Fifteen years going on sixteen,
well recall many pinprick
moments of our combinatory
existentialism

But an early moment reappeared,
in a period of contemplation as I
this morn, wove my way thru Manhattan
city streets, during my diurnal walk of
composition, a tradition Walt Whitman
passed on to me, in Leaves of Grass, so
over my Manhattan journey~obstacle course,
now a three times weekly endeavor, of
a two and one quarter miles duration,
this came unto me

Very early on, in our ro~dance
we attended some cocktail/
business function, properly attired,
a first for us, and thus a tad exciting,
and in the elevation machine at the
Waldorf Astoria Tower sky bounding,
she stun gunned me with the simplest
of positories…

How shall you introduce me?.

this nimble tounge, so rarely at a loss,
gave an intuitive and simple answer:
You are my girl friend, no pretense,
I proffered and she thoughtfully
replied,

While an absolute truth,
perhaps since I am a Nana,
over twice,
and you, a Grandfather
over thrice,
perhaps something less
juvenile is in order?

Mmm, perhaps you are right, then
let me suggest boldly to name you
as my lover, none other and let
their mouths fall agape so full
of their crackered
canapés?

She paused a moment on our ascent,
replying,

Undoubtedly true and such
a good lover are you, but the touch of ******
in many an impoverished mind, gives it a
tangy hint of the unseemly tho, b u t
if that’s your preference, lover will it be,
but perhaps wordsmith, you keep on trying?

Ah I knew a rejection letter when I got one,
so cruising higher, proffered a ‘my best friend?’
but her glance clearly indicated that suggestion,
wholly unworthy of my skilled verbosity and
more appropriate to a dodgy dog, if such I did
possess

The elevators of NYC, are sure and swift in
elevating its population, and a growling
desperado emotive was taking me hostage,
I had what is now a “3S look,” an abbreviation
for when I wear my Simply Stupefied Smile

Perhaps I may suggest that should the need
arise for you to introduce me in a phrase accurate
and simple, that might suffice?

Smilingly weakly, I, poet, awaited what surely
was to be an obvious solution to my wordy
and worldly failure,

Please introduce me as
Your Biggest Fan
and I shall, dear one,
if asked,
will offer you up as my
Only Love Poet

And to this day, when introduction~making,
I feel the sweet smile of an invisible and
silent kick in my humbled and egotistical
****

~
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!

~

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
.

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