There’s no mural I could paint  
No poem to compose
Not a sinner nor a saint
Who could ever truly show

The depths of my devotion
The desires of my heart
The extent of my emotion  
How my love for you is art

For love and art are tethered
Birthed from pain and hope  
Both beautiful, worn and weathered
A brilliant kaleidoscope

You are my tangerine,
Brimming bitter-sour
Across the wretched, dusty room.

And you brought me
An orange touch of sun
Glitter glowing on my skin.

To wake wide in the morning,
Curtain dances with fresh air
Into my smoker's lungs.

Even to my deathbed remains
The scene of you that will
Leave me between the walls

Of longing and regret.
And to my morning sunlight,
I will never become better.

I say to you, my tangerine,
You are my very will to live,
And to die, if I cannot save you.

Repentance is more than a one time event

It is beyond all of the words that you have spent

It begins at one time , matures and continues to grow

Repentance is a process
that has a beginning
without an ending to go

We met in coincidences—
Once in angst staring at the moon
Twice in silence glaring at the sun
Thrice under colored skies pretending not to watch.

Each time,
the universe held its breath.
Each time,
we let go too soon.

There were years between our names.
Other hands. Other homes.
Hearts that tried to forget
what never really left.

But I’ve learned—
what isn’t meant for you
will fight to leave.
And what is
will find its way back,
no map,
no warning,
just a pull.

So even if we part again,
even if time forgets our faces—
I’ll know:

'You are the return.
You are the thing that stays.'
Indefinitely


Erennwrites

Everlasting Butterflies

    There’s a story of love in my
Poetry I’ll try to summarize
It happens to be all of the Cliches
The weak knees and Butterflies

Love at first sight, I know it’s corny
But I tell you no lies
It’s like a fairy tail complete with
Unicorns, Rainbows and those Butterflies

When it’s true love, it’s hard to explain
Every time I look into her eyes
I get so lost and I’m speechless and
You guessed it those Butterflies

There’s Nothing even the best poets
Could write any words of surprise
Because love is a feeling deep inside
Perfectly described as Butterflies

The fluttering of the wings inside the
Stomach cannot be explained otherwise
You know you’re falling as you get dizzy
And weak in the knees and those Butterflies

It’s a feeling so strong that nothing
Can destroy and it never dies
Married for forty one years, yes still
Those Everlasting Butterflies

Written By:Charles Kean
04/13/2025
Tomorrow April 14th is our Anniversary
I love you more today than ever before
Happy Anniversary baby
Thank God for Everlasting Butterflies
🦋❤️🦋❤️🦋❤️🦋❤️🦋❤️🦋❤️🦋❤️🦋

When his brother came under attack :
First he did nothing
Secondly he rejoiced in his distress
Third he took advantage of his vulnerable state
Fourth he joined in the violence against him

One reaps what he sews
One gathers in return what he has given
He heaps destruction like ashes upon his head
As he is standing he is as good as dead

There's spring and there's summer, there's all that's in between
no listless skies of anodyne; now nature flaunts and preens

What beauty fills the hungry eye 'neath a sky of blue, serene
verdant vales soaked in sun, awash in palettes of green

There are pastels that awaken and deep shades that passion brews
created hues that trickle...sprinkled with 'chartreuse'

There's the green of 'asparagus' and that of 'artichokes'
Of 'forest', 'ferns' , of 'moss', a brush of different strokes

Fragrant plants of 'mint', then 'myrtle' and 'green tea'
'Emerald', 'jade' or 'harlequin' and 'malachites' that be

Off creamy shells, just 'pistachio', 'green apples', then of 'pines'
It lies too in 'sap' and 'teal', in 'avocados' and tangy 'lime'

There's green of the 'mantis', in 'jungle', 'hunters' and 'shamrock'
The lithe 'parakeet' fluttering and the lazy sanguine 'croc'

In blessed 'basil', ' pickle', in 'pear', 'olives' in 'bottle green'
'Gourds' and 'peas' that farmers grow in cultivars pristine

'Tis there in 'aqua' and 'seaweed', in the ripple of 'sea green' waves
In 'turtles', 'sea foam', 'anemone' and a 'tropical glistening lake'

From 'laurel green' to an 'army green' , in 'sage' ( a shade of grey )
The color of 'grass' , the murky 'swamp' , hues in array

There's 'neon' and an 'Indian green', a 'Persian' one to mystify
A 'midnight green' to bright 'fluorescent', oh, for green rainbows in the eye

Death winks at the
lilies that smile in
the rain.
He takes her.
The last ***** trick.

Watered drinks and
syphilis doesn't do the
patrons any good.
Too much grief for
placebos and madness.
Relief must come.
***** and fantasy just
bring sickness, and
licking frogs is
out of the question.

Pipe dreams ease the pain
if you smoke them slowly.
Watch the blue ghost curl
into the feeling fan.

This saloon is home for the
iceman.
So, buy me another drink,
and we can think about
doing it all
tomorrow.
Isn't that right, Mr. O'Neil?