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I rise from where I slept
Morning breakfast’s prepped
Lighthearted conversation
Not too heavy or in-depth
Coffee and a biscuit
Or a scone to set the tone
Maybe, a spot of tea
To put our minds at ease
And discuss the coming day
How to do it, and in what way
I remember that time
in dark naked 13th hole
sand trap near our crime
will you still love my soul?
My mind always shivers.
Just believe in our Fate
I dream us in cold rivers.
It will never be too late.
 Mar 2024 Chuck Kean
Jena T
The older I get,
The more the years pass.
A year,
Feels like a long Wednesday.
 Mar 2024 Chuck Kean
Anais Vionet
There’s no substitute for life.

I find myself,
seduced by yearnings.

I’m flourishing here,
contemplating sin.

I’ve nothing to do
when I’ve nothing but time.

I’m reusing solitudes -
they’ve become ragged.

What’s the answer then?
Should I seal my girly heart,
engage in uncaring kisses
like it’s ‘casual friday’ -
connive brief excitements
- just to feel a pulse?
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Connive: to be secretly sympathetic to something wrong or unacceptable
My Father died at 63
I’m now 75
I remember the day
I turned 63
Thinking I would finally know
What he knew
Be able to feel what he felt
See what he saw
And to be who he was
But I wasn’t a decorated
World War 2 Marine
The last of his platoon
To survive
The Solomon Islands the graveyard
Of most of his friends
He died on a Thursday
But we were estranged
‘Another woman who was not my Mom’
Looking back I wonder
What could I have changed
What words would I have used
To say to him …

(To Edward F. Behm U.S.M.C.: March, 2024)
 Mar 2024 Chuck Kean
Stu Harley
He has risen, from death's cold grasp released,
A dawn of hope, where darkness ceased.
Upon the horizon, where light anew,
Breaks the night, in hues so true.

From the tomb, where once he lay,
He has risen on this glorious day.
A miracle woven in the sacred text,
A story of love, complex, yet reflexive.

The stone rolled away, an empty grave,
He has risen, almighty to save.
In the hearts of the faithful, a joyous song,
A testament of where they belong.

In gardens of prayer, where whispers rise,
He has risen, beyond the skies.
A beacon of faith, of love divine,
In His resurrection, a holy sign.

Through trials and tribulations, we find our way,
He has risen, to guide the fray.
In His footsteps, a path we seek,
A strength in moments, when we are weak.

He has risen, let the earth proclaim,
In every whisper of His name.
A promise of eternal life, a sacred gift,
In His rising, our spirits lift.

So let the bells of Easter ring,
He has risen, let the choirs sing.
A celebration of life, of the victory won,
In His resurrection, a new day begins.
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