Encased within a gilded cage
With clipped wings as if I could-

-and have no doubt I surely would
take flight as once I surely did, to soar the skies, to taste the winds, to ****** my wings and let the breeze-
-take charge as I let go my fears and let my instincts lead my route.

Above below and through the clouds, I sore to heights so high that man below appear as ants and city lights serve to remind of man whose whims I must abide where I a canary caught in their grasp.

There was a time when I was free to dream of soaring upon crests of wind

And then that time came crashing down within a moment when man set his eyes

That moment when my guards were down

The very moment I lost the freedom I had had

And clipped, my wings, so I would never know the joy of freedom flying to and fro'

If only that was what they had in store perhaps their would remain a glimmer of hope

Alas it wasn't meant to be
I was a sacrifice to what man considered his

To live at all expenses lest within a mine beneath the ground the noxious fumes would dispatch man, their life no more, they all would die

And so it's i within a gilded cage whose mankinds fatal line of defense

And so I'm lowered in my cage
To serve as warning for all those men

Who treat me kind as kind can be
'For they know when I stop to breath they might be next lest they escape

And so now stripped of taking flight
I serve as signal, my death their sign that noxious fumes are deadly know and all they need as proof is I

'For in my cage I'm meant to die which signifies a lethal strike

I am the canary down the mine
My freedom gone all that I have
Is to pray that my death is quick for all my freedom no longer exists.

Janice's gran said
don't let the canary
fly out the window.

I won't
Janice said.

Gran made sure
all windows and doors
were shut.

Ok you can let
the bird out now
her gran said.

I stood watching
as Janice opened
the birdcage
put her hand in
the yellow canary
jumped onto her
small finger.

She brought
the bird out
on her finger
we watched as it
fluttered its wings
and chirped loudly.

Janice lifted
her finger
level with her eyes
and spoke to it.

I said nothing
but stood there
watching.

Her gran had only
let me in
if I promised not
to teach the bird
bad language
I promised.

Who's a pretty boy then
Janice said.

The bird held its head
to one side
chirped
but said no words.

He spoke that time
when I was alone with him
and told him
a few words
and he said them
almost straight away.

I wondered if
he remembered me
and would
repeat them today.

The dead canaries
are still screeching
as the wolves claw at the door.

They told me that dead
birds mean new
beginnings but all I see
are shattered
hopes.

I looked the corpse
in the eye and
I swore that
I could see the shape
of tomorrow in smoke
and razor teeth
reflected in glassy beads.

I paid the hag
in gold coin,
and then the witch
took the rotted
thing away,
still shouting.

The dead canaries
are forever screaming
as the wolves break down the door.

Old Jim

"I'm grateful for the company

....sit down and I'll make tea"

"It's not often people visit

but, with the cat, us two make three"

He's hiding somewhere here

He's always there abouts

I just have to watch the doorway

I don't want him to get out

We listen to the radio

Can't afford to have TV

It's really not a loss though

Since I now can barely see

Time it takes it toll on you

A little more each day

I wish there was a little pill out there

That helped keep time at bay"

"There's the kettle, whistling"

I'll be back with our fresh brew

The cat won't drink it with me

So I'm only making two

I looked around the little room

All the drapes were closed up tight

It was sunny out and midday

But inside, it looked like night

There was one light in the corner

More for guests than Uncle Jim

HIs life was based on order

This room just wasn't him

"Here's the brew my boy" he said

"As he came back and sat with me

I watched him...two steps forward

One left,  then forward three"

He put the cups down gently

Didn't spill a single drop

He'd memorized his pathway

He knew exactly where to stop

"I've got biscuits, if you'd like"

"Some Hob Nobs from back home"

"I break them out for company

"They're too good for me alone"

I said that I would get them

and I exited my chair

He said they're up on top

But I'd never reach them there"

He came and got a grab stick

He poked and grabbed them from the shelf

He said "This things a lifesend"

"I'd never get them by myself"

We sat and talked for hours

Talked of sports and music too

He said that with his failing eyesight

There's really not much he could do

"It's saved me money someways"

"And cost  more in others though"

"But now that I'm not driving"

"I no longer shovel snow"

Jim, worked hard for forty years

He was a foreman in the mine

He'd been working round the coal for years

In fact since he was nine

He used to run small errands

From the office to the men

He lied about his age though

Jim told them he was ten

He'd retired back five years ago

When it got hard to breathe

"It was all I ever knew boy"

"I didn't want to leave"

Tons and Tons of coal dust

Must have filtered through his lungs

He was  dying slowly daily,

It started showing on his tongue

Small spots appeared which spread real quick

He started treatment right away

He knew the doctor would relieve him

Of his job, reduce his pay

"you know boy, there's a tale they tell"

"of birds down in the mine"

"when the birds fall off the perch stone dead

"Then we men have little time"

"We have to get out quickly

"For the bird has shown our fate

"But think a bit, the gas got him...

"So for us ...it was too late"

"We didn't really watch the bird

"We listened for his song

"For when his voice was laboured"

We knew it wasn't long"

"Dead birds...they meant dead miners"

At this my body jolted

"It;s like shutting up the old barn door"

"Even though the horse has bolted"

I finished up and said to Jim

I had to catch my bus

Jim said, "ok young man, be on your way"

" Now, it's just the two of us"

"You'll be back soon, I hope" he said

I said , "I sure will try"

"I like our little visits"

As he sat there and he sighed

"Just me and Tilly now" he said

As he saw me to the door

Stay safe my boy and oh....

He said "There's one thing more

"when you get on home...please phone me"

"It will make this old heart sing"

"Just phone me up and when you do...

"Let it go for just three rings"

I said I would, "but why three rings"

I asked, not four or five

"Three rings" he said's our signal

"In the mine....that you're alive"

I left and headed homeward

But first I'd stop of at the mall

Then I went home right directly

And I then gave Old  Jim his  call.

It's amazing how you can talk nonstop
Take a ******* breath already

There was a canary in my rib cage.
Golden, splendorous feathers
crested from its chest and wings.
It sang, "I'll soar! I'll soar!"

T'would often fly away
to enjoy the fair weather,
enjoying the warmth the sun brings.
Something lovely to adore.

Though, on one fine day,
it flew too close to the Nether--
home to such horrid things.
For my canary, what lay in store?

Under black skies, its golden rays
found hellions at the end of their tethers.
Amongst them, came a crow, beckoning,
"Canary--come here, I implore!"

So, my canary flew its way,
eager to see thing thing never
before seen, so welcoming!
Another bird, it had never seen before!

"Hello, friend--how are you today?"
Asked my canary, to the maligned member.
*"I won't lie. I'm a tad unhinged.
Won't you show me your home's door?"

"Yes! From this place we'll stray!
I hope its traces you won't remember.
Let this Hell no longer infringe!"*
Ti my rib cage went to scour.

They found its cage before late,
but when the crow saw such splendor,
it made shedding its persona a cinch.
My canary was pecked to death before an hour.

So now, there's a crow in my rib cage.
The Hell in its soul makes me tremble,
its tactless talons make me flinch,
and my canary it devours.

Poets are word canaries
prepared to die in dark, airless places.
Poets are sharp sirens
alert, alarmed and warning of the firestorm.

Poets can read
tree bark calligraphy of knots and scars.
Poets decipher codes
and shrewd puzzles, bold and enigmatic.

Poets ignore the talk of Angels
their prophecies and broken promises
Poets turn over Tarot cards
lay out rune stones, fearless of the future.

Poets steer clear
of treasure, jewels and golden ingots.
Poets climb ladders
and stairways cut in rock and stone.

Poets can see beyond
apple blossom, lilac blooms and dead lilies.
Poets find the past
in patterns of stars and the orbit of comets.

Poets lick salt
relishing the wounds and tears.
Poets throw life-belts
wreaths onto empty oceans.

Poets split existence
into life and death with nothing between.
Poets sift ashes
and sand for the rough edges of infinity.

She had a dressing table,
Aveeno cream,
And a big blusher brush.

There was nothing sad about the scissors
But they sat there open on the dressing table,
And they looked sad.

Two canaries flew freely about the room,

So we joined awkwardly in the darkness
Under the sad eyes of scissors
And the colour yellow.