When you're sad or upset
And the world seems to be against you
Think of yourself first
Remember that you are better than you think you are

If you are down and reeling in the pain
And nobody seems to care
Think of those who do
Remember you mean much more to them than you do to you

I want to live right up to when I die
and through, beyond the finish line.
Not with a gasp and an ugly stumble,
but run straight on, strong and triumphal.

I want to live right up to when I die
with au revoir and not goodbye.
I want to live with real expectation
and run on into the new creation.

A dark little girl,
Everyday,
She's a creep,
Wednesday is not just the middle of the week,
She's a daughter,
A dancer,
Sometimes,
She's disgusted,
Her smile is secret,
Her shine is rusted,
If she likes you,
You are in luck,
She'll save you from the "Goo Goo Muck",
And if you dislike her....
That's okay!
"Deep down inside she like it that way".
Oh Wednesday,
Who knows what tomorrow may bring,
Perhaps...a black rose,
"Thank you, Thing....

Colorblind, you see in mournful grey
You speak of all you rue,
Commiserating, I try to say
For you I’d paint the skies blue.

You think yourself invisible
But you are heard, you are seen
Know your fears are divisible
Try and let the grass be green

Quiet your incessant mind
Erase everything they said
Think of all your ties that bind
And don’t let your blood run so red

I beckoned Death here once more;
just to see what keeps me
tethered between the chords
and all these feelings galore,
Downpour into metaphors
I’ll forevermore lovestorm

Feel me from within
(Touch you)
Touch you once in your soul
(What’s in your soul?)
Love is life in your eyes
(Your eyes)
My demise

Trapped in this disenchantment
a distant place I’m imagining
actual happiness -
projecting from somewhere worlds away
Through the gossamer
Ascendant realms shimmer distantly

Receive…
The sequences I’m transmitting
I just want to feel whole my god

Here I dwell in a parallel
Of my own Heaven and Hell
In the mirror I cast the spell
Reflected back at at myself

Time stayed behind and
the fire lit evenings warmed
the cold room in which my
heart tattooed to you. Your

touch was never so warm
as the early days of parks
and coffee shops.  The ends
of Summers and we raked our
leaves, painted walls and
there was never enough

coffee.

I am touch without your
feeling without

your warmth.

hollow without

your

voice that said

me to

you.


Caroline Shank
10.5.2023

it must have been light
that invented my mind
the light terrorizing my eyes so
that I walk obsessed by beauty
I am trapped inside the circles of time
they grow and revolve in my tissues
it must have been love like a pocket of darkness
like the gravity that is so simple
that we can't understand

why do the most talented poets
**** themselves:
Anne Sexton,
Sylvia Plath,
Dylan Thomas

it's better
to be a sheltered poet
and follow the Robert Bly formulas
a few weeks on the New York Times
best sellers list
then the college circuit
and come up with something

controversial

like

Iron John

but not, too
controversial

there is far less peril
as a minor poet
stick with J. Lohr Los Osos Vino
and ***

make the poems personal,
ruthless honesty

a plus

occasionally

something from the heart
something like a watercolor
in the rain
beautiful for a few brief
and fleeting moments

always the wolf
no subject matter
forbidden

and if perchance
you are jailed by the pen
don't **** yourself
too soon

linger in the darkness
step inside the Bell Jar
and write