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It's quiet now. I hear the washer
from the next apartment.  Even my
birds

are quiet.

It's when I think of you that the
spinning axis of the planet
requires my attention. The
door that alarmed last year
still screams.  You turned
away from me.  I heard the

slam of your heart, the ram
at the end of your life.  I left

without a kiss.  I live without
your steel.

I turn to where your son
shines and I am guilty

of loving you

still.


Caroline Shank
~
March 2024
HP Poet: Caroline Shank
Age: 77
Country: USA


Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, Caroline. Please tell us about your background?

Caroline Shank: "I am 77 and I live in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. When I worked for Barnes and Nobel for ten years, customers asked me frequently for suggestions. I believe 'The Alexandria Quartet' by Lawrence Durrell is a serious contender for best prose fiction which has been written. Also 'The English Patient' by Michael Ondaatje is such a teaching tool on how to write the greatest novel ever written. I digress."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Caroline Shank: "I have been writing poetry since the adolescent striving of the very lonely. I am not sure how long I have been posting to Hello Poetry. At least 3 years, or maybe 5?"


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Caroline Shank: "The unusual image will send me running for pen and paper. Usually what inspires the senses: a wind, an odor or perfume. I still remember my love affair with Chloe perfume. And! English Leather! Those were the days. Great sadness or anger will send me to my laptop but those poems do not usually survive."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Caroline Shank: "Poetry means that I have a place in a wonderful place. Once in awhile."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Caroline Shank: "My favorite poet's are: T. S. Eliot, Rainer Maria Rilke (the Stephen Mitchell translations), E. E. Cummings. I am a fan of Sara Teasdale's, her From the Sea is amazing. I save Shakespeare for the best nuggets ever. Anna Peters, her “I Am Not a Gentle Person” is a tour'd if ever. I love the poetry that is a much needed relief from The Civil War. Especially Lorena. I guess that's a song. Only one poem of Ezra Pound's, The Metro. It is a graduate course in image exploration."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Caroline Shank: "I used to be a huge consumer of books. I read all the time. I find that at my age I can't keep reading without finding something else to do."


Carlo C. Gomez: “We wish to thank you for giving us this opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet, Caroline! We are honored to add you to this series!”

Caroline Shank: "Thank you, Carlo! I am very grateful for all the encouragement you have given me."



Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Caroline a little bit better. I surely did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #14 in April!

~
Marshal Gebbie Mar 2024
Knife edged, this twisted world
Where men sit on their hands,
Despite the carnage, sanctified
Despite where outrage lands.
Blinkered to the massacre
Oblivious to death
Ukraine and in Gaza
Via Satan's filthy breath,
Carnage bleeds, unsated
Innocents now die
Dismembered in the rubble
Where little children cry.

We in distant nations
Sit remote and quite detached,
Unhindered by the distance
Untouched, unattached.
We wring our hands in anguish 
What more can we do?
This smothered insignificance
A sad defense for you.
Whilst the Ogre in the Kremlin
And the Mullahs in Iran
Dispatch their lethal warfare
Eviscerating man.

Ego and the Caliphate
Combine to force the hand
With nuclear threat to NATO
In the ultimate demand.
China on the sideline,
Poised to hit Taiwan,
Awaiting the confusion
To join the battle song.
Extermination Israel
Taking Saudi's oil rich wells
And a settling of the score
In sending Infidels to Hell.

Here we sit in our seclusion
With a blue sky overhead,
Not a thought that our tomorrows
Possibilities....may be dead?
Not a thought that our inaction
At this point of time entails
The destruction of the order
Here on Earth, that now prevails?
Have you bitten hard the bullet,
Have you clenched your teeth in rage?
Have you stamped your foot in anger
To decide to turn the page?

Have you weighed the dreaded consequence
Of just blithely carrying on....
Or will you gather up your skirts
To Sing Our Planet's Battle Song?

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
9th March 2024
.
  Mar 2024 Marshal Gebbie
Joe Cole
You know I've had my life
And seen things I hope you younger writers never see
78 summers have past me by
And in a few more years it will be my time to die
But I have no regrets about the life I lead
And the things I did
A few years ago I posted here
And encouraged young writers from far and near
Many daily poems then we had
And as I read my heart was glad because I'd played my part
To see my rose buds grow
But now I'm just a crippled wreck
My hands the result of a broken neck
You know in our late teenage years we were bullet proof
Gave no thought to our later years
But life catches up with all of us
Aching bones and sagging flesh
When just climbing stairs leaves you out of breath
But no matter what the age we are
The pen we use is for ever young
And so I say to all of you
Continue to write in the way you do
Be you now that tender rose or an acorn on a gnarled old oak
Take up the pen and the ink will flow
And from your words a rose will grow

J F COLE. Simply simple poetry
Marshal Gebbie Mar 2024
Ah! Sweet moments,
Those often tiny vignettes of time,
Captured landscapes,
Life quilled upon passing seasons.
Gifts and treasures collected
Tucked into memory's
Dusty corners...
Filling the Soul's bookshelf.

But sometimes
There comes a moment,
Unnoticed and slipping quietly,
Into its' own silence.
It will have no tomorrows
No memory to ease the emptiness
Of regret...or words
To paint upon our bare
and introverted canvass.

Which avenue travelled
Rests with the toss of the coin,
For the realm in which we dwell
Is determined, primarily,
By chance.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
3rd March 2024
I don’t need a big miracle
A little one will do.
I don’t need my feet
To feel like feet again
That would be asking a lot.
I can still deal with
My failing right eye
And what’s going on in my throat.
It’s really a simple thing that I need
I just want to sit down and **** -
Every animal does it…
No thinking or planning involved.
But nature’s denied me
That every day deed
And that is the miracle I need.
ljm
A brief bout of constipation cured by levity..
I thought Snake Oil Salesmen were a relic
of the past, standing up on a stage dispensing
blatant lies and bogus even dangerous cures
for our exaggerated imagined illness and or
personal fears.

I thought we ran all of them out of town,
suitably tarred and feathered, riding on
a splintered hitching post rail.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry. Step right up folks!
In this little bottle, I hold in my hand, is a
magic elixir of my own imagination and
invention, that is absolutely-unconditionally
guaranteed to heel what ails you and Make
America Great Again, all I ask for this be all,
cure all, is one small vote cast for me, crowning
me King of all there is, and your money to get
me there."

For the weak of mind and of poor judgement
his bombastic lies and falsehoods are irresistible
even dangerous, yet still they reach deep into
their pockets to buy what he is selling.

Now where did we put that rail?
Decency and intelligence should
rule the day, not stupidity and
meanness of heart. Run that orange
charlatan out of town, or better yet
lock him up and throw away the key.
A repost of a few short years ago and
another election that somehow, he won,
please let us NOT make that mistake again!
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