~
In the mist of late night solitude,
                 from a mislaid plateau,
                 with a suitcase full of sparks

She observes constellations
        reflected as little needy eyes,
                        peering down at her

They could be midnight directives,
       postcards from distant nebula
                            suspended in gaffa

       "Ne t'enfuis pas..." She exhales

Still she wonders:

        will her children grow to love
          their perfect machines more
                                    than they love
                  their imperfect mother?
~

in whispered words
you sing along with
the song of my heart

unconcerned with tune
or harmony
a simple chorus
in unison

the reverb swells
as the presence
multiplies
you and i and love;
with Spirit
adding contrabass
more felt than heard

To your privilege,
And
My dismay,
I'm a pro player,
In the game of
Self-blame.

We become part of nature,
part of sunflowers & leafy stature.
By the running brook, quiet creek,
Like snowflakes on jagged peaks.

By sunny beaches, which the horizon reaches,
In wispy woods & pristine beeches.
Below the dark, cold depths of the ocean,
Which moon tides draw in motion.

Tis where my soul would go,
For solitude, no friend, no foe.

The aroma of those Lilacs,
will be green...
Its buds...
Your buds...
Among the white dress
they move;
your eyes...
Dead summer cherries...
Among your ears
So they have voice;
your eyes...
And your hands,
 A moment;
suspended
in time....
And how burning they will be this year
the whiteness of your hands,
In the absence of
white orange blossoms
in the garden
In the absence....

A Ghost In Time

      It was a perfect end to a day
The night sky was well defined
There was magic in the air
All the planets were aligned

A young couple fell in love
To be together forever more
They walked barefoot beneath
The moon along the ocean’s shore

Unfortunately it wasn’t meant to be, tragedy
Re wrote what was written in the stars
She was taken away from him
Leaving him with permanent scars

She was a victim of collateral damage
Innocently being in the wrong space and time
When shots rang out in a gang drive by
In an act of a senseless crime

He’s an old man now and thoughts of her
Have disappeared into a fog of memories
The love they shared has all but been
Forgotten, locked in a vault of treasuries

She still haunts him in his dreams
He feels her presence and love so sublime
His broken heart to be forever captured
By A Ghost In time

Written By: Charles Kean
Copyright ©️ 02/10/2023
All rights reserved

Bard of my reading, no less
the trail to my heart's desire.
Singing in the crevices of
memory I love you.

Ode to the bark and green
you awaken the song.
Sing to me in the spaces
between rhyme and
desire.

I wait to hold the source
of song, the poem of
you driven to the page
to lap the signs of
tomorrow like evanescent
cotton when spilled in
the wind of your
imagination.

Tomorrow the nascent verse
will spill like water on flowers.
Grow to the top dear Poet,
ride the board of memories

which sing in the lines of
your experience.

Teach me, Sweet Jesus, to
Sing.

Caroline Shank
1.15.2023