Gingerbread Man Guards

Eucalyptus, pine and succulent wreaths on gates,

fancy up the chain link stairs to my cabin.

Rains did their best to melt down grosgrain ribbons.

Bobcat tore under the side to try at one of the sultans;

but ginger bread men act as soldiers in the kitchen.

Grandfather's elaborate trains in the basement 

sold off boxes before we made it to the souq.

Did the Shiite militia keep the tracks?

A tunnel appeared to barrel bomb cars.

It's somewhere in rubble now.

Missing days of believers at home.

Mailing letters to Santa, 

tucked under comforter prayers.

This too is passage.

Entropy wears on cells.

.

Noble fir stands tall with

whole ornaments from

calamity of puppies of the past

knocking over trees.

Missing that dog's tail.

A cross guards 

over her in the meadow.

Mother always says, 

"I'm doing my best!"

With and exclamation point, yes.

This too is passage.

Holding heart with cheers.

 Days before Christmas.

Copyright Caroline Gerardo 12/19/2016

Garden Loved Sestina

Garden Loved Winter Fruit

                    Sestina 

Day Linda writes zero degrees without attention.

His awful silence saws her spine as sinewy knife.

Despite prayers / absolution, superstitions grow.

Dig trenches for olive tree wind break in garden.

Does future Ouija press oil to help blisters heal?

"Do time in her wrinkles," says the cruel mirror.

Daybreak french braid tresses without mirror.

Sections combine, hold steady pays attention.

Sing over under olly olly return sunshine heal.

Sound echos pain, rubber band clangs a knife.

Sage drys, aloe bubbles, salves in the garden.

Seeds of forget me not's barb sanguine grow.

Scorpion grass hitch - hikes on souls to grow.

Don't turn your jaw look upon a winter mirror.

Damn ghosts steal prism light in zen garden.

Done recall the man's text detailing attention.

Dead memory on dry hands balances a knife.

Dregs starved, mud evaporates, tears to heal.

Nights crack because grief therapy can't heal.

Tendril connection bind, cease mind to grow.

Terror think to escape the love of your knife.

Teach Linda to sway joy angle for the mirror

Talk kind, become: don't care girl; attention.

Taste chocolate tomatoes warm in our garden.

Bury your discarded fire ashes in the garden.

Broken urine combines with nitrogen to heal.

Behold: circumnutation coils for attention.

Bold Coral Bells Passion Vine starts to grow.

Become Artesian well of citric acid in mirror.

Marigold pyretherum cores bugs with a knife.

They tell you its time to put down the knife..

They irrigate, pour chloramine on the garden.

To be you, ball gown gorgeous in that mirror.

Think about the steps the feet dance to heal.

Those corns, old blisters from work grow.

Touch her  heart  with  listening attention.

Knife cuts out nonsense  about attention.

Garden winter fruit cures, satin time to grow.

Mirror mercury glass water logged to heal.

Caroline Gerardo

copyright December 2, 2016

Dedicated to Elaine, Lainey, Lucy, Carolyn, Kait,
Maggie all wonderful Poets

Why

be kind life is short

Why

Why 

Americans open potty mouth 
Elections bring out worst 

unfriend them on Facebook, but

eat their homemade cookies;

but curse their mother-

 your freedom words online

let loose your filter. 

Century wood stove flings

burning shit on their name.

Why?

Car cut you off Nürburgring?

Hail horn, pull out a 22 bought

from rude Cabela's clerk.

You said "go fuck hell."

Okay, your grammar faults,

ask for a case for the gun 

because you're entitled.
Clerk goes home hungry from his
minimum wage job.

Why?

Dog on internet snuggles a baby, 

makes tears come out; but a child 
flooded, homeless, kidnapped, 
orphaned by bombs...

skepticism stops you from typing, 
"What do you need?
Give 50 cents to corrupt Red Cross.

Why ?

Dog has a heart.

Your core has love let it out,

empathy grows aching,

no-one taught chase 
a ball with 'fever love:

clean water, education, safe.

You know answers

 ready to show,

not cop out, say, "I'm

voting and reading words," 
because every step

 we Must ask:

WHY?

Family Jewels

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vulture Family Tree

 

They mate for life.

family

Mother went up for atrial stenosis surgery

UCLA sent her home

Some emergency...

Vultures soar on thermals with their kin

I see my tree moving away

After building a dynasty

abandoned

orphaned

Plucked to DNA thin.

Then Healed by time.

PTSD soldier resting on a limb.

Surrounded by almond blossoms with heady fragrance.

Perfumers’ choose frankincense, the notes sing a familiar song.

Grandma’s cologne causes sleeplessness.

I miss the girlies.

In their growth.

In their journeys.

I love them as my own

Barberries, pomegranate seeds and

chunky ruby beads repair a broken spirit.

My brother witnessed his heart on a table.

The anesthesiologist gave him remedy.

A pump kept him going.

A California condor elegy?

Find a breeding program for positivity.

 

 





Our Lady of Guadalupe Jewelry

Vulture photograph from my trip to Africa

Share Your Heart

 



Heart Snowman at Harvard Business School



Carson and Nori at Harvard Business School

Carson in front of old Stock Exchange Ticker

 

Mixed emotions of a weary  and joyful traveler.

Early November I made travel plans to take my youngest on the “college tour.” I booked flight arrangements as cheaply and efficiently as a miserly C. P A. for Boston, New York, Minneapolis, Austin and D. C. (We can drive to San Francisco)  Each stop, like a book tour,  arranged around my son's winter and spring holidays. Little did I know in November that I would overlap my chemotherapy appointments.

I am sticking to the schedule. Having a next stop gives me a light ahead. When I’m running, I make a goal on the horizon and bargain with myself to keep going until that certain tree. Breathe, do the work, and soon I find myself there. The body forgets the pain. The mind achieves the goal. The willow bends it branches behind me in inspiration.

The highlight of our journey, thus far, was seeing my sister teaching her class at Harvard Business School on Valentine’s Day. It may not be your usual expectation of romantic endearment. I was proud of her and joyful that my seventeen year old could get a picture in his mind of that tree on the horizon. What we demonstrate is more important than what we say. My greatest accomplishment is my children. 

Show  your heart today ~ snow geese guide each other well ~ fly in the first rung.

 

 

 

Unsent Letter

You + Me Aspen Tree

   I wanted to tell you a list of things. Call this a love letter of sorts. I can't send it but I can write it as flash fiction, not poetry. This is a casual note you might find in your pocket.

   The tests are back on the roof tiles. There is no lead, my design plan for rain gutters to gather enough water for a garden, sun shower and the whole budget is less than $2100 in materials. Adding water that is previously untapped and free feels independent, that is how I would describe it to you in a bouncing up and down Charlie Brown Christmas dance.

   I keep you in my prayers now when rain showers seem to cross my path. This incredible rainbow popped this afternoon. I asked Him to make you my Superman, the strong man who leads.

   Four of the poems and paintings I made for you of your ranch are complete. They are missing the magic. The images give a glimpse of the wonder.

   I regret one thing, not writing our initials in a tree. I needed your permission to make that leap.

   The aspens whispered to me. Remember I asked your ancestors connected to sing a little and let go a few golden leaves, they cooperated so merrily. They saw my dangerous heart. It gives everything and loves forever. Though this is problematic, with no way to turn it off when attacked. I learned to stay apart from those who cause harm, not to stop caring.

   The Doctor said my arrhythmia is worse than last time I was tested. You didn’t ask how the results of the EKG, stress tests, and blood work came out.

   The final draft of the paper book of The Lucky Boy is done, even have the ISPN number just waiting on the cover blurbs for the back. I am hopeful for the future.

   I’m writing for Nanowrimo, and you would make that funny face not recalling what it is- write a whole novel in the month of November. Today I made it to 14201 words since the first. This is makes me feel strong and I wanted to share all with you. But you are gone. Not a far as my father now dead twelve years, I still talk to him in my dreams. I need a tape recorder for my brain when sleeping to remember what he tells me.

                  Today I feel filled with grace and joy sending you this hug to share.

Love,

C. G.
copyright 2011 all rights reserved we prosecute
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0064FOCZO

Heart Attack Takes 55 Year Old Husband

"Mon coeur ne vous quitta jamais une seconde,

et je suis, et serai jusque dans l'autre monde,

celui qui vous aima, sans mesure..."

Cyrano wears a plastic nose.

Headband hides the rubber band.

Abs of steel and a clogged heart.

Look sideways upon his dressing gown,

Ripple the waves of the river wash the sand.