Charlie F. Kane Poems

The last of the romantics,
Last of a dying breed.
A rose held in a tight grip-
A present for the thought
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I cannot lift up my head and sing
For I fear the lyrics that would come out.
I must keep the songs to myself,
Ones that only I am to hear.
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I want to be a Superman,
But I’m just a weed,
With string-bean arms
And a xylophone rib-cage,
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This moment, this feeling,
I feel like King of the Mountain,
Looks like there is a ship on the horizon,
Saved from my isle of loneliness.
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1- What Was It Like?
What was it was it like,
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Her name I forget, although sometimes I remember,
And the words come back to me,
As I begin to form the syllables with my mouth.
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I didn’t mean to hurt you.
I never did treat you bad,
And I’m sorry that it made you so sad.
I just tried to stay true to myself,
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(Inspired by the painting 'Summertime' by Edward Hopper)

Heat bleeds from pavement,
A nervous foot dangles
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You say that you want someone
To help you find yourself
Someone to take you from the darkness
And to lead you into light
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You make me want to change myself,
You make me want to be the better man.
You make me want to change my ways
To have the courage to start again
...