Cracked sienna and burnt umber bark
on trees fuzzy with blue green lichen,
like the stark, leafless, winter clothes,
of Highgate’s denizens.

Hazel branches stripped bare by squirrels
a foodless frosty park,
it’s Victorian bowling green surrounded
by golden paths and benches is
wild, broken, neglected
grass and concrete.

Exposed on the grass
a hungry squirrel gnaws her nut
sees danger and runs up a tree.
A dog barks and tries to climb,
loses interest,
and sniffs the inner city's air.

The park whimpers deprivation.

She doesn't do landscapes,
she does landfills.
No ocean liners on the sea,
only shipwrecks on the bottom.

She states: Jesus was the best Riddler.

Listen,
poems read
differently
when you're close to the poet

Listen,
run your hands
across my pages
caress the dents
feel the depth in some
and the lightness in others

Listen,
come closer
place your ear
on my papers
listen to the waltz
my pencils do
with every
stride, every curve

I can't speak
for the moment next
my heart I'll follow
nothing will I expect

may it be bright sunshine
or the ceaseless rain
whether the day is welcome
or harsh-- the grain

I'll sift from the chaff
in hope and faith I'll remain-
wonder and grace will lift the spirit
love and kindness will heal every pain-

if you're sad and bereft
I'll offer you my ready hand
heaven is in what we jointly create
as we in humanity commonly stand

I have a lot of stories but you are the truth

Faces in the dark.
All the same now

I rode the years with paper wings
The songs changed but the men didnt

I was along a dark path. Looked for the light

Strangers even after I should have stopped the wrestling

There Was only this
today
a perplex of pain and
searching.

You are my Knight of
Shining

The days of pain are
behind the trail of
memories.

You are my wind
and my salvation.

I Honor you.


Caroline Shank
December 10, 2024

_

She says I...
should treat her like a masterpiece of art,
And I’d be a fool to not get the fuller picture;

I might linger by her side, yet my position
remains a mystery, akin to a Khaled feature.

She hides behind her smile;
that’s a kaleidoscope of emotions—perceptual,
asymmetrical, mixed signals with her eyes –
okay, I think I got the picture; “she is a living
Mona Lisa;” yet, she remains to me,
an enigma.