Wilted Dreams

Hating roses is
a passion fate,
a habit like
throwing out
chocolate without cherries

You were a healer
nursed the saved
rose above the battle
fire for awhile,
soothed the singed,

I look for the
squiggle code on the chocolate:
it tells me which to save
which pure chocolate must go

For good luck
I gave you a rose
and a promise
for hot chocolate

Roses are red
I’ve heard, but
haven’t seen them
hold your ghostly fire

I wrap all red cherries
in chocolate squiggles
never to giggle again,
to love roses wilted

Если я убегу от печали (Russian)

Если я убегу от печали,
вверх по горе к синему и к тебе,
ты поцелуешь мое мужество и поможешь нам
прогуляться вниз другую сторону, где
река играет наше странствие песню?

Давайте сделаем день всплеска
переполнен извилистой любовью.
If I run away from sadness,
up the mountain to the blue and to you
you will kiss my courage and help us
stroll down the other side where
the river plays our wandering song?

Let’s make a splash day
overflowing with twisting love.

The Flavors of Sore

Ice cream is usually a good bribe:
you can have all the ice cream you want.
However —

Conditions a sore point
jarring —

if you get your tonsils
taken out for a walk
to a jar, then
unlimited Ice Cream.

Bargains can be surprising.

Anesthesia doesn’t smell like
any flavor of Ice Cream, has
high pitch buzzing, disturbing
lights not like stars, voices
like dreams: there’s
a lot of bleeding…

waking in bed with no Ice Cream,
a bed pan to vomit blood into, and
it has no cherry flavor.

Ice cream is not always a good bribe
with a throat so sore it hurts to eat it.

Some fish dishes will ameliorate, however
if it comes from a jar: carp
whitefish, and pike.

These slippery things don’t come in cherry
or vanilla, or chocolate, but with
onions and bread crumbs, these

Gefilte fish in a jar packed with gel
swim down the throat without pain.

Wonder why it’s not said:
you can have all the gefilte fish you want
if you have your tonsils taken out for a swim.

Butterflies Can Surf

Butterflies Can Surf (for new collection)
    by Douglas Gilbert

Distinctly I remember
waiting for the show
at the little creek
where blossoms fall on
floating ice cream sticks

I remembered how butterflies landed on
these flowers on stick boards to
surf over the mini-rapids.

I have learned many
creeky things for you in dreams
and I know that

when sorrow
goes surfing on your tears
I will wipe it out

Flying with a Sail

Flying with a Sail (for possible new collection)
    by Douglas Gilbert

Let some enchanted song sing
to a jib in fickle calm seas and
dare a Londonderry aire to blow.

Soon there will be a friend who
hums in the wake of your breath, and
blows on you with a flying note of love.

The dear lady comes with perfume
on board the sailing ship and
your sailing heart tacks in the wind.

Parched Lines

Parched Lines (for new collection)
    by Douglas Gilbert

I fall between two last rain drops with a cold
nose bleeding between the red lines of a desert;
it’s difficult to read between the lines
while thought hungry, but

I will feed a fever a task
from the tip of my tongue
to the stomach of the unconscious,
and try to hitch a ride in a dream.

I will hitch a dream limbo limo
powered by an insight that
will sneeze the ride forward.

I will try the ethereal soup
with a soupçon of magic
and inhale the fumes
between the last twin drops

and cherish the remains
of the tear-drop brew in
a cauldron of forgotten lines.