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My world is whispering
PRAYERS
For every lost soul
I could not
TOUCH,
Because I was
SO
Lost myself.
Why the thought of an impending death
Stubbornly clings to me from time to time
As icicles hanging from the trees
Sending chills up through every neuron
I hear their empty rattle in my head
As rabid dogs barking at nothing
Though Shelley was full of praise
And hailed Death and Sleep as brothers
To me it is not so and will never be

Not that I am afraid to die
Nor my absence will shake the Earth out of its orbit
But it makes my thoughts break into fragments
And I find it hard to piece them together

Even if I die, my children will live as before
My husband might seek another partner
Or might pass to a new celibate state
They will never be benighted or tempest tossed
And eventually my memory shall fade
Fade away without a trace from all hearts

As I walk through the winding road
And the closer I come to the terminal
From where there is no more treading
And as time pulls the blind on my life
When the curtain falls finally and my play ends
I don’t want to leave this stage
Nor want to lose my hold
Of those hands I love and care
There are gifts still to be opened
And newer avenues to be explored

Oh, I am in love with this world
To be more true, with narcissistic ardor
I am in love with myself
I know how dangerous it is to be addicted to love

So Death, carry me in my sleep, if you must
Or sweep me away by an inundating tide
Unawares into the ocean of Eternity
Like a feather blown away by the winds!
(Inspired by the Poem- Do Not Go into that Goodnight by Dylan Thomas)
This long life has been
informed by love.  We shared
each other Oh! for so
short a time.

Like fruit we hung onto
the sweet drops of new
nectar's night.
We peeled each other
to the pink skin of sighs.

It was a delicate scent
when blown into the
stars quiet Space.  We
sped into the walls of
destiny and crashed
in the pulp of sorrow.

But I miss you in this
orchard of dessicated
memories.

I am rawed by the thought
of you.

Caroline Shank
 Apr 29 Heike Borgard
Elbee
the moon is a sickle
the sky a pastel palette
i slowly awake as dawn
gives a yawn
and a sleepy greeting

pillow soft, and warm
fragments of a dream
flicker in my mind
as I try to cling on to their meaning,

i can hear a distant sound
strangely familiar, a
subtle disturbance
becoming ever more present,
pressING
STRESSing
alarm! clock! rrrrringing

dr     a     g         g      i       ng
me out of the dream i was living in

and i am once again
born
unto
this new day
are you awake?
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