Golem Bird



Free Spirit Fungus                         Her Name Was Shakespeare

This poem is self-explanatory, I think

Requiem for the Polar Bear

From ice to ice he swims,

the great strong bear,

white-hot, a living ember

in the cold Arctic Sea.

Ancient and unrivaled,

most powerful,

the very pinnacle of living things

in a frozen land.

What does he feel when searching,

the ice, where is the ice?

Here last year, or maybe years before,

does he remember?

Instinct drives him

forward through the water,

the big heart slowly cools.

He slips beneath the waves.

I wonder, does he panic

like I would,

or does he tire and fall asleep

dreaming seals and ice, not knowing,

as all the Arctic slowly melts away?



Sleeper   by TL Carosella

This one cat sleeps

all stretched out
belly up, exposed.
Paws skyward,
Complete and utter bliss
in black and caramel fur
as soft as cotton fluff
or downy chick.
His head lolls to the side,
it looks unhinged.
We joke "He could be dead".
He cracks one eye,

and rolls.

We are dismissed.

This is possibly my favorite poem.

 I collect a lot feathers on my walks...

Golem Bird

            by TL Carosella


My hand is sweating

The grip must be just right

Too tight, they crumple

Too loose, they float away

Perfect remnants of

Earth’s lovely, fragile flyers


The ones I found today

Are grey and white

A mockingbird I think

Dinner for a hawk, I hope

And not some more ignoble fate


I put them in a box

With soft striped browns of hawks,

The blues of jays,

The iridescent green of magpies,

And coal black of the crows.


They mingle in my cupboard

First one hundred

Then one thousand

How many does it take

To make a golem bird?


A bird to fly so high

No car can strike it,

No pellet gun can reach it,

No windowed skyscraper

Can swat it from the sky?


My golem bird will fly,

And trees will cheer it upward,

And clouds will lift it skyward,

And winds will bear it onward,

Until both Man and God take notice,

And remember to have mercy

On all the things that fly.


This is a song I wrote in sympathy with people who are struggling in their everyday lives. Not everything is autobiographical.

Stretched            by TLC11/6/2008


Either morning comes too early,

or sleep, it comes too late.

I’m stretched way too thin.

I’ve got too much on my plate.

Like my paycheck every month,

like my patience every time.

How did things get so tough?

My whole life is on the line.


Waking up,

every day,

list of things to do stuck in my head

I don’t sleep late,


got a family and a schedule

and a job that I just dread…


 Looking back in time,

back to when I was so young,

I had the expectation,

that my life would be more fun.

Now I find I was mistaken,

and it makes me sad to say,

my heart and soul are aching,

did I somehow lose my way?


 I worry bout my parents,

but I’m feeling old myself.

If you don’t have lots of money,

better pray you keep your health.

Some days I’m doing alright,

some days I feel the pain.

Let me dream about the good life,

let me hope that mine can change.


 Want to wake up in the morning,

in a better frame of mind.

See the beauty of the garden,

find a world that’s grown more kind.

I’d like time for love and friendship,

time to seek a little grace.

My life should be a good trip,

take me to a better place.


Waking up,

every day,

list of things to do stuck in my head.

I don’t sleep late,


got a family and a schedule

and a job that I just dread…


Another song


by TL Carosella  11/13/2008


Early morning airport,

waiting for a plane.

Watching people walkin ‘round,

and staring.

See them sitting close together,

leaning in to talk,

strikes me no two couples

are the same.


Man and woman hugging,

a tender sweet goodbye.

Over shoulder glances,

walk away.

They’ll still have each other,

even when they’re far apart.

Smiling, they don’t feel

the need to cry.


Something in our makeup,

in our genes, way down inside,

like a fish that must

swim with the tide.

Everybody finds someone

to hold them through the night.

That’s the way it is,

and its alright.


A guy you might think homely,

a girl you might think plain,

It’s not their faces holding

them together.

What they see in one another,

no one else can say,

there’s inner beauty present,

just the same.


What I’m seeing makes me feel

that when I’m old and gray,

the one I love will still be mine,

and waiting.

We’ll be sitting close together,

leaning in to talk,

happy just to share another day.




Observed on a Walk in the Park

Free Spirit Fungus        By TL Carosella

In the no man’s land between

the pavement and the lawn,

amidst the gravel and the remnants

of the weeds and grass

killed by herbicidal mandate,

uneven spots of dirty white appear.

Not decomposing paper,

or guano, or spilled paint,

but a fungus eking out a living

in a place where nothing ought to grow.

Go, fungus, go!

Grow, fungus, grow!

For your existential efforts, I salute you. 



Gone but not forgotten

Her Name was Shakespeare                  By TL Carosella Jan 5, 2014

I had a little shadow that went in and out with me.

And what could be the use of her was more than I could see.

A little white and orange cat,

With such a loud meow,

She’d pester me and follow me until I threw her out.

But after ten and seven years

She finally passed away.

That little white and orange cat,

I miss her to this day.