My heart is no longer soft and red but has become cold and dead
It was trampled like the blades of grass and just as without water
It did not last ,It became dry, withered and died.

No longer did the sun shine down upon it covered with
Dark heavy clouds - that’s all that was around , and yet
One blade of grass stood as tall as can be waiting for
The sunshine to set it free.
Yet there was something that I never knew - could
The clouds disappear and let the sun shine through ?

Could that blade of grass regenerate life to all the rest
And is it strong enough to pass the test.
Unlike the rest of the field that had turned brown
This one blade stood it s ground.
Will it survive ? Who is to say !
It may come back another day.
© L . RAMS 090120

Last night,
when I closed my eyes,
I saw the moon
so full and so bright.
I fell asleep smiling.

Some women belong to the Spring.
They're meant to bloom,
but they were never yours to keep.

She walked by on the beach one day at the end of one sweet summer
and found a golden rose tucked safely between the shore and the rocks
She was a messenger of God and so she listened deeply when He said
" its all about fair trade my child, its all about fair trade"  
She tucked it in her pocket and was about to go back home
when suddenly she heard the sound of a seagull's cry.
There upon the beach a loner sat, with a despondent, brokenhearted sigh
She handed her the golden rose without a word, then passed her by
Five silver Angels watched, then fanned the mounting tide  
and turned the shore to shreds of light they raised her off the floor  
" its all about fair trade" she heard them say  
as she found another rose in the sand, and this one, was a lovely
shade of rose*
She tucked it behind her ear then gave Him thanks for one more year  
"No regrets my Lord, no second thoughts, "    
At her age you see, she had finally understood the art of letting go.
So taking one last look behind she just smiled, then moved along.

On the day I come unglued
And finally slip away
I hope the sky is freshly blue
Without a wisp of gray.

At the moment when my concert ends
And the final note is sung
I  hope I am with caring friends
And no black crepe’s been hung.

I want to simply disappear
To mingle with the wind.
I hope I sense when time is near
To bring things to an end

I’d hate to leave in gloom and rain
And hate it more in snow.
I do not want to cause more pain
Because It’s stormy when I go.
                                        ljm

With strength, perseverance and faith
Dark tunnels become paths of light.



Shell ✨🐚

May all the sonnets in the world compiled in beauty
lend themselves to your sweet eyes of gold
may every line of of penmanship speak to you of me
showing you that ardor, still untold

and when the moon comes out to serenade you darling
send me kisses from your balcony
and when the moonlight bathes the feather's of a starling
tinted dark as heaven's ebony,  

bring me all your charms and play your castanets my love
rend each doubt and join me over there
where every wingeth bird soars up like a turtle dove  
and plays you music oh so fair

may every sonnet ever written call you out by name,
may every poem ever uttered be your sweet proclaim.

It comes from talking too fast.
Words from thought spill through
me.  I am unadorned with
punctuation.  I write in long
lines of ideas switching from
one to another like trestles.

Some thoughts get stuck or are
trapped under wheels. They rub
me clumsily.

I speak only English in a stomach
churning speed.  To tell you how
beautiful you are takes pages and
curls of rushing lines.

I am a jumble of ideas out loud.
A scorch of syllables.  I digress
of course.  I am a stumble of
sounds, a cataract of meanings.

Listen to the scrape of pen, the
words enlighten,emerge, into
conversation.


Caroline Shank
6.8.2023