Sparrow Sings for Michael Jackson

House Bird for Michael

All the jumbled stories about his life aside,

 remember this sleep never ends

The story, the Doctor,

made me think of you, not a bad song.

It is a nasal sparrow tsip whispering in the brush.

A ghost lives in the canyon.

I tried to capture his song

but like Michael it

is threading a recording
through a telescope.

You might not care about

the sparrows facing extinction,
but it makes us sorrowful as

mist creeping over a protective glass.

It is coming soon.

I protect the nest.

It is only a house sparrow you think.

We miss the songs

I Want You Back,

 Never Can Say Goodbye,

And I’ll be There

A sparrow can understand

Twit twack calls,

Or a human if they care

Caroline Gerardo Copyright 2011

Butterfly for a Dark Day

Put this in your underwear drawer.

Fold it up and make copy hidden with your tax return

next year and the year after place it in the prior year’s

to be read again.

For when you have a dark day.

This earth is a marvel.

Wake early before the sun trembles upon the horizon with hope.

You never know what she might drag with her.

It could be weather that blows from the north.

Count on her sense of humor to catch you.

Monarch butterflies come and munch upon the passiflora,

you recall the coral passion vines that grow rampant upon the tree fort.

The fruit is sweetest when slightly shriveled

on the days when the sun showed no kindness

she beat you with poverty, loss of love and cancer.

That wasn’t my worst day,

terrifying thought that you might give up hope, is fear.

Always tomorrow the tin man gets a heart,

you win publishers clearing house and they find a cure.

For today something miniscule

one butterfly lands near your core.

Say you are loved you have known great love you will have it again.

Open your hands when it comes,

risk everything not to pick off the magic on the wings.

My heart will be clapping saying Bravo.

Caroline Gerardo copyright © 2011

Ocean Inspiration Poem

Ocean Inspiration Poem

You

I know you my sons.

You can be anything.

You are able to fix everything but death.

All you need is a roadmap and hands.

Your fingers are strong, toss the Rubbermaid lid opener,

feel the struggle with my lungs when the waves overcome,

turn on the gas when you are tired,  find the kick,

Only mac n cheese the electricity is shut off.

You require a plan.

Two feet walk across the ocean.

Follow the sunset west, or the pelicans if you must.

"Get up," I say "Don’t die on me Mom."

"God I hate a quitter."

You can be anything.

copyright ©10/10/2011 Caroline Gerardo

 



Thanksgiving Mourning Wing Sounds Poem

It is Thanksgiving in Canada,

there is an opposite season in the world.

October sunflowers return on the hillside in random rows.

Seedlings from my colossal variegated propped up blooms.

A cherry tomato gone wild is more elegant than Monsanto’s.

I was honest last Thanksgiving,
but he holds his own version story.

How long will the healing process take?

How should I know?

My life has an egg timer, there are three mouths to feed.

After years of caring, the heart does not want

 to let loose the guide rope so easy.

A hot air balloon unattached to the basket

mid-air mid-life wanting to stay connected.

Missing the sound of the girlies wings.

Pruning of my hybrid teas does not change

ramblings of climbers & stray hummingbirds.
I am happy in my soul.

I stopped filling the feeders,

 I gave up the trail with old haunts,

until my fingers bleed at the cuticles,

but still that sprout gets into my dreams.

CM Punk Poem

CM PUNK

SXE

WWE stands for:

Warrior who wakes every day.

Get back up lift the weight of the world

Give the jumping hammerlock not paper flower excuses

folded over in accordion tissue by some pink couture
taffy singing a siren song.

Get back up, lift the weight of the world.

Sisyphus unafraid of the locker room’s smell,

dripping with joint pain he doesn’t take crap pills,

runs his hill straightedge full speed.

Face crowds who cheer for blood.

Easy when the money rolls in

 the body springboards off a clothesline.

Sail off the platform into burning stars,

a brown spider web, a foxhole,
a day in and day night grind.

Jump back the world needs a hero.