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unchained spirit

simple beauty

a flower

(as it was meant to be)
I wish you could see
How big my tear looked from my vantage
Feel how big it felt falling
From the corner of my eye
Down my face
My mouth
My
Chin
My blanket
Only one tear?
That's all
I had the strength for
Dont worry. Just trying to be a little dramatic. I love a good cry
I am fickle.  Let's face it.
I dated a lot of guys. I was
the girl in the red sweater.
Me and my saddle shoes.
I only wore Buster Brown
socks.

Look at me now. I am awash
In pink and sometimes yellow.
I don't like red and I don't like you!

Yesterday when we got married.
No 50 years ago.  Was it really
that long?  We pledged to love
Forever.  Now Forever is a
painful scar.  You were never
remotely interesting.

"so how did you like the play
Mrs. Lincoln?"

You say I can move on but
there is no place to go behind
the purple curtain.

Is this poem finished?
It would seem

that it is.  I will take

my bows, shed the
years and put the
memories in the

cardboard shoebox with
the painted scenery,

(please forgive the
Feminine endings.)

close the door and
see

my next adventure
coming for me.

I get pills

in the night.

I am in
San Francisco

to see Ginsberg.

I dream of
poetry and sand,
swimming
naked in cold clear
water…

and I sing in
my
sleep.


Caroline Shank
This poem is not about my husband who died in May. It may be a way to escape from all the nightmare of watching Parkinsons demolish a fine man and by c
 Aug 2022 Chuck Kean
David R
i looked into the future
and saw a broken race
hobbling bent as neuter['d]
longing for coup-de-grace,

the learned high academies
of philosophy 'n of culture
said hope caused neuroses,
disease as brackish water

it was crude 'n barbaric,
had no place in wisdom,
good for tribes o' primitive
understanding in closed system

and in the name of science,
they threw out all of faith,
'n in utter compliance,
themselves they did scathe

with faith and hope gone
was no point in bearing offspring:
"we need much less to spawn
for to stop populace exploding"

"and families are archaic,
smacking of Hebraic,
just loosen all the morals;
that'll lessen all the quarrels"

they said that a conscience
increased recidivism
that higher moral sense
was backward Darwinism

so generations arose
who had no sense or inkling
of a higher purpose
of divinity's twinkling

then i woke from the nightmare
and sighed big sigh of relief
it all was just a night-scare
all make-believe

it wasn't true
and never could be
people would ne'er eschew
faith, hope, and family
BLT's Merriam-Webster Word of The Day Challenge
#brackish recidivism
Walking in the room
Captivating
My attention
Without my permission
A moment
Is the moon tired? she looks so pale
Within her misty veil:
She scales the sky from east to west,
And takes no rest.

Before the coming of the night
The moon shows papery white;
Before the dawning of the day
She fades away.
Brown and furry
Caterpillar in a hurry,
Take your walk
To the shady leaf, or stalk,
Or what not,
Which may be the chosen spot.
No toad spy you,
Hovering bird of prey pass by you;
Spin and die,
To live again a butterfly.
Pour your tears in my eyes
and I will weep for you.
Wrap your despair in a red box
with a satin bow and gift it to
me at Christmas to bear alone.
Shove your sobs down my throat
and I gasp for better times.
I find it kind of our last hope.
~
Black as coal.
Moth or myth?
It helps with the lights out.
And travels by thought.

Cleopatra enters Rome,
Dropping names,
Reciting pagan poetry,
Knocking on forbidden doors.

Nicole sees shadows
Of her former self
Staring back at her,
Rock paper scissors,
The color of three.

Give and take after take
On the burning soil
Of a blurred crusade.

Typewriters
And other assorted weapons
Form white lies and alibis,
Calibrating the dusted variations
Of a caught-on-camera obscura,
It is a dark waltz,
Some small hope still,

Yet there's a comma after still.

~
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