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Showing posts with label passion vines. Show all posts
Showing posts with label passion vines. Show all posts

Friday, December 2, 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



Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Doves Nest





Ginny and Fred return to the gazebo. They prefer the confines of passion vines.

“Jack in the Beanstalk plant.” My son calls it.

Bells of flowers cling up under the hat of the structure. A loose nest of sweet peas and weeds hides their offspring. Mourning doves are dutiful parents. They take turns waiting.

Fred goes missing a week. She continues the duties. The eggs hatch any day. Still she calls to him, praying a cat didn’t nab him or my neighbors didn’t shoot him.

Raising children alone is rare for mourning doves. Piles of millet and safflower seeds sprinkled on the feeding platform near the nest. It’s a make shift feeder. Predators can’t easily enter. Ginny’s slender body hops down for a drink of water and snack. Back to the nest, feed the infants pigeon milk.

Spring turns to summer. Children begin to fly. The nest falls to the ground.  Ginny calls. We fill the feeder. Ginny and I wait.

Caroline Gerardo
"Dove's Nest"
2015 Poem copyrights reserved







Photographs of the passion vine in the gazebo
A mating pair have returned year after year.
Look what Google did with my images they made one
photograph of my several. The google gods are genuis

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