When conversations grow darker than night skies cold. And the tree leaves on the breeze fail to whisper the truth. What happens then, after Summer, so far away from the Springtime of youth? I don't know, but ergo Autumn. And with this quote end. Just as the rocks below look up to the sky above. Marylan spoke my mind in synonym that day, and so I'm through with love.

The air feels like poppy seeds
ominous and warm
clouds heavy with yellow-green thunderstorms waiting to drop.

True love is a woman's color-
haven't you ever wondered why all God's angels are men?
Boys with wings that come and go and go and go
Ephemeral, fleeting

Yet mother earth continues to turn,
hiding her children in the folds of her skirt
a dance as old as time
older than the sun

And a weather girl laughs up at the sky
twirls in the image of her mother
pulls up the flowers

True love is not red
the sun is red

it is brown like the earth
like women
and it belongs to them more than it ever belonged to Gabriel.

so when you dissolve into a thousand poems you can never write trying to look for the way out, let go. even the moon melts parts of itself, and your skin, it is made from the cracks constellations have between its stars. and when december starts to breathe the last of its sadness — and how it lingers on your skin: a glass so breakable, let go; wilted flowers no longer flinch at a lightning's touch; you are made from the same matter — all cold lips and an ether of sighs. let go, darling. all this, because you are not just a girl. you are a storm without a calm.

I’ve had that dream of school
When you forget your classes
When you forgot to go to PE and
Don’t graduate
When you can’t wake up
Because your dreaming inside
Another dream and you scream
Having a baby and it’s not real
And feel sad and relieved
The one where I get shot and
Felt the bullet
The one about the plane
Crashing and burning
Right in front of me
And I feel the heat from the fireball
The one where someone’s
Chasing me and I jump
Out of bed to hide, to my poor husbands fright “what is wrong?”
The ones where I’m having
An asthma attack and I can’t breath
The vivid one about concentration camp and I am hiding children from the ovens
And they still don’t make it
And it’s in black and white and
Woke up angry and depressed

The extra strange rest of them I can’t and won’t share

Relieved in real life these aren’t real
I’ve always wanted to share my dreams and frightmares
Sorry in advance for any bad dreams

A Whisper In The Wind

Sitting on my deck as night begins to fall
Thinking of a time I thought would never end
And in a sense it still exist
For now it’s a whisper in the wind

A monsters attack in the middle of the night
A child in fear unable to defend
Without warning it sometimes returns
For now it’s a whisper in the wind

A beautiful girl, young loves first kiss
Time separated, love letters I didn’t send
Hope she can still read them
As they are now a whisper in the wind

The sounds of us as children at play
And the promise of a forever friend
Though long ago it’s not forgotten
But now it’s just a whisper in the wind

A mother’s love, and watching her die
Her last breath, her soul ascend
She’s still with me, her love is a comfort
Now as a whisper in the wind

Time has flown so quickly
And it’s hard for me to comprehend
All the faces and voices still echo as
Everything still lives as a whisper in the wind

Written By:Charles Kean
Copyright © 02/07/2020
All rights reserved

I should talk about you Ma,
but what is there to say?
You lived like an illusion
inside of a nightmare.

You were born to be a
queen.  You said so
so often I wanted to run
away forever and never
again hear you prattle.

I wanted to love you but
failed.  You were brave
in your illness.  You wore
your psychosis like a
badge.  The crest of
madness suited you.

When you died they laid
you out like royalty.
Finally you composed
the scenery for us,
your subjects.

Michael was unmoved
while I cried.  Daddy was
a wreck washed up on
a lonely island.  His raison
d'etre gone forever.

My tears were a shock.
The last two minutes you
took from me.

I have never returned to
your lonely palace

underground.


Caroline Torpey Shank