Everyone's New Year' Wish - A BRIGHTER TOMORROW

 

There’s a glimmer of light on the road ahead.

a welcome ray of hope,

Signs pointing in the right direction

      but still a long way to go.

The journey is slow and tedious

with pitfalls along the way

Have patience my friends,

      we’ll get there in the end.

A PANDEMIC RANT & MOOD SWINGS

Frightened, frustrated
Trying to stay calm
I thought I was adjusted
But it’s so hard to tell.
 
Exasperated, exhausted
This is taking so long
I want to do something
to oust this terrible spell.
 
Puzzled, perplexed
At how life has changed
I hoped it would be over
And we’d be healthy and well.
 
Unpredictable, unsettling
Life's out of balance.
I thought this was limbo
But maybe it’s hell.
 

Symbol of our times

 

IF ONLY

If I were a painter
    I would create a masterpiece
    with bold strokes and vibrant colours
If I were a dancer
    I would dance a fiery tango or
    do grand jetes across a public plaza
If I were a musician
     I would play a triumphant fanfare
     or sing a rousing hymn of praise
If I were a composer
     I would craft a symphony with
     rising crescendo of drums and cymbals
If I could write a poem to capture this moment
     I would use words of joy and lyrical phrases
     so pure they'd conjure tears and laughter.
If only,
     if only I knew how.
     if only this moment was now.

 

 

 

COUNTING BLESSINGS - A Walk in the Woods

 

Snow-sculpted cedars
The forest decorated
like icing on a festive cake.
Walking in a winter wonderland

THE END?

Seething at the core,
brewing under pressure
Suppressed.
Fierce energy building
like a volcano ready to blow
the world awaits extinction.

   Climate change?
   Political upheaval?
   COVID uncertainty?
   Take your pick.
   If I knew the answer,
   It wouldn’t be
 

 

 

THE END

 

Every Block Tells a Story

 

Every block tells a story
of passing glory, of new beliefs;
a changing of the guard.
One pharaoh dies, another rises.
 
Fallen columns, buried statues
names replaced, faces changed,
plundered tombs, secret caches;
mark the passage of the times.
 
Carvings in the stone,
writing on the walls,
clues of life and afterlife
buried by desert sand.
 
Every block has a story,
Every column has a tale.
A legacy once written, 
forgotten but not erased.

ON REMEMBRANCE DAY

Dedicated
to all those families mourning their loved ones, who for whatever reason, departed unexpectedly.

ANTICIPATION - Waiting for US election results

 

LIMBO

 

KINDNESS

 

COUNTING BLESSINGS SERIES - A Birthday Hike

 

YOU’VE GOTTA LIKE A BIRTHDAY HIKE

where maple, oak, pine and more
spread a carpet on the forest floor,
paths through golden arch of trees,
the gentle whispering of a breeze,
fresh fall fragrance in the air,
a woodpecker tapping over there.
That is where we have been
In a perfect Canadian scene.
A glorious gift I’d like to share.
Wishing you could all be there.

 

SEASONS' SCENES; SEEN FROM MY WINDOW - Version 2

 

From my window I have a panoramic view of

changing seasons marked by earth's orbit around the sun.
On balmy days puffy cloud formations sail by with ever-changing shapes.
On bright blue days my world is bathed in warmth and brilliant light.
But when the wind line marches steadily across the lake,
stirring the placid water with choppy waves
I watch storm clouds move with frightening speed.
stirring the usually placid water into choppy waves.
I brace when storm clouds slam raindrops against the windows,
and thunder booms as zigzag streaks lighten the night sky.
I can track the seasons by where the sun sets,
painting the sky with a spectacle of shapes and colours.
 
And now, the trees transform the landscape
with leaves of gold and glorious shades of red.
Birds regroup to start their journey south.
Geese in V-formations will soon depart with honking sounds.
When the lake turns white, iced over, shore to shore,
it is a vast space we can explore with skates and snowshoes.
A time of rest, hibernation and finally rejuvenation.
When the snow melts, spring buds will open
The geese will return, nest and raise their young.
Another year, another season. The cycle starts again.
Changing seasons marked by earth's orbit around the sun.
 

SEASONS' SCENES; SEEN FROM MY WINDOW - Version 1

From my window,

changing elements appear magnified.

Frosty mornings, mist rising from the lake,

gusting wind, bulbous clouds, blazing sun,

pelting rain, lightening streaks,

The icy white of winter days.

Glorious sunsets, brilliant moonlight.

Marking seasons, marking moods.

Marking time.

 

COUNTING BLESSINGS SERIES # 3

 

WORDS

 

COUNTING BLESSINGS SERIES - # 2

 

Today we planned to fly to Rome
The start of a month-long adventure;
With dreams of riding twisty roads over misty Tuscan hills
Tramping through historic towns,
Checking out stunning, scenic vistas,
Boarding ferries to Corsica, Sardinia, Sicily,
Winding our way along coastal roads,
Lingering on mountain tops
Hiking the Path of the Gods,
Scoping out ancient ruins,
Taking time to chill at sunny beaches,
Sipping wine from every region made from luscious sun kissed grapes
Savouring succulent fruits and seafood, fresh from the sea.
All these plans and more are put on hold for now.
Instead today, counting our blessings,
We drink wine from Sicily with damn tasty take out pasta,
Toasting future adventures.
Knowing that our dreams will wait and 
what we have now, is pretty awesome too.

COUNTING BLESSING SERIES # 1

 

 

Today I took the kayak
on a mirror clear lake into the marsh
where water lilies bloom
and dragonflies hover,
where blackbirds balance
delicately on tall reeds,
lifting wings to display ruby red underbellies,
the color of my kayak.

Below, submerged logs lurk,
like dinosaur bones beneath the still water
and waving weeds swirl green tendrils towards the light.

The calm embraces me, immerses ne
in an oasis of peace.

Walk strong.

 

For Ruth Mary Engel

 Special poem for a special lady on a special (90^th) birthday.

Ruth Mary
I see you on your deck in calm contemplation,
the river, flowing calmly, wide as a lake,
a cliff-drop below you.

Close your eyes. 
Feel the breeze.
Hear the call of the loon.

Let Engeland embrace you.

Without turning your head you sense all of its parts.
Unerringly you trace the path to the Green Cottage 
on its perch overlooking Snake Rock and the new bunkie.

Smell the fragrance of pine.Touch the texture of rock

You know every contour of the steps
passed the laundry, to the beach.
Your toes touch the rock
where you start your daily swim
the water smooth as silk,
refreshing you, body and soul.
Close by is the Hex, whose every corner
you know so well.
There's the trailer and a small climb to the Mouse House.

You smell the crackling fire in a firepit, 
or perhaps one of Dwight's special, roaring brush fires.
You know every rock that gives the landscape its personality.

You hear,
family chatter
the sound of laughter
the splash of swimmers
the chug of an ancient motor;
the delicious sound of silence.

You remember
moments shared,
moments of solitude
moments to cherish.

Engeland, your spiritual home 
embraces you, and you are blessed.

FOR DIGBY

Admiral Digby, Sept. 2008 - May 2020.
He will be sorely missed by his sister Nellie and his humans.

A faithful companion to the end.
It's hard to say good bye my friend.
Clinging for comfort to thoughts
of better days and happy years.
Moments to treasure and make me smile
through threatening tears.
 
It's okay to go when the time is right.
And I know it is for you tonight.
Sleep well my friend and journey
safely, through the long night.

SO CLOSE AND YET SO FAR

Have you noticed how the world has become
        both smaller and bigger at the same time?
London, Ontario has receded as far away
        as London, England.
A coffee shop meeting with a close friend is as distant
        as a visit with a friend in Vancouver.
A monthly networking event is reduced
        to 20 headshots in Zoom distorted by spotty Wi-Fi
An international conference with scholars from around the world
        remotely, on phone, tablet or computer monitor
        academically useful but distantly impersonal.
Yet, I can tour an ancient tomb
        digitally from the comfort of my couch
Or take my time to explore
        gallery exhibitions in distant cities.
With the magic of street view
        I can walk down any street in the mapped world.
        or zoom by satellite over mountains, lakes,
        exotic destinations or my own neighbourhood.
Without leaving my house, I can
        browse catalogues of any store,
        order slippers or motorcycle parts for delivery
        by Canada Post, to my front door.
Restaurants and bars are out of reach,
        but delicious new recipes flood my inbox
I have the time to bake bread
        and experiment with Moroccan chick pea stew.
I miss browsing in the local library,
        but I can download new releases to read at leisure.
Meanwhile, living in close quarters
        far, far away up in the sky
Astronauts orbit the beautiful blue planet,
        knowing that ironically, they are safer up there
        in the International Space Station
        than anywhere on earth.
And we on earth, isolated in the comfort of our own homes
        living our lives remotely
        stare longingly at the sky.
So close and yet so far.

MEMORIES OF CAPE TOWN

If I close my eyes,

I can almost hear the steady roar of rolling surf
and smell the salty tang of spray and feel its gentle sting
when I walk in Sea Point along the sea wall on a gusty day.
I can still hear the clickety clack, clickety clack of the train
on its slow route through St James Station to Simonstown.
I imagine fishing trawlers plowing through choppy seas
to unload their daily catch at Kalk Bay harbour.
 
I sense Table Mountain standing guard, the town nestled at its feet,
a white table cloth of clouds unfolding down its sides,
until the wind changes direction, lifting the veil,
revealing the power of the mountain and its attendants.
If I rode the cable car to the top, I would see the bay,
ships snug at harbour, homes, beaches and lonely Robben Island.
 
I relish for a moment, the feel of sand between my toes
as I stroll along the water’s edge of Clifton beach,
sun beating on my back, toes tingling from the Atlantic Ocean chill.
Or better still, the rough play in warm breakers at Muizenberg,
leaping waves or diving through the heavy ocean swells.
 
In my mind I still feel the power of my horse
as I gallop along the shore of Bloubergstrand
or trot quietly amongst the vineyards in Constantia.
I loiter for a moment at the gates of Springfield Convent
to kindle memories of school days and school friends.
Then on to UCT, taking the hard way, walking up Stanley Hill,
across the rugby fields to picture-perfect ivy clad walls of my Alma Mater.
Here I rest on Jammie steps, seeing distant mountains capped with snow.
 
At end of day, detouring along the glorious drive of Chapman’s Peak,
I sit on pure white sand, a glass of Pinotage in hand,
to savour once more, the glory of a sunset at Llandudno Beach.
 
Cape Town, no longer my home, but forever in my heart.

 

SUR-REALITY

 

VIEW FROM THE PILLION - SLOVENIA

 

From my seat, behind the rider

I have a panoramic view.
A landscape rich with fields, neat farms;
trees brimming with red ripening apples,
like Christmas ornaments.
 
Tiny chapels and tall crucifixes
stand guard along the route.
Like a motion picture, the scenery flows by
along the road with sweeping curves.
 
Powering smoothly up a mountain pass
to views of vineyards, carved into hills,
stepping down the sides of valleys;
grapes ready for the picking.
 
Past hamlets with flowerboxes
spilling over with geraniums,
fields dotted with orange pumpkins,
corn bursting with yellow kernels.
 
The blue sky, kissed by the sun,
sprinkled with rain, makes the perfect green.
That’s the colour of the hills and valleys.
That is the green of Slovenia.
 
Leaning into the corners,
I breathe in fresh country smells;
cut grass, manure, chicken coops
and fragrant forest aromas.
And I am refreshed.

First prize winner for the Ladies Biker Poetry Contest in the Toronto International Spring Motorcycle Show, 2023

TODAY INSTEAD OF WRITING A POEM

I baked bread. Yes, I know I said
I’d write a poem a day, but let me just say
That’s getting tough to do. I hope that’s okay with you.
 
This bread is really easy-peasy, lemon squeezy.
No yeast or sourdough in here. The star of the bread is beer.
You might think that’s a waste but it has a really great taste.

Light at the end of the tunnel

RAINBOW TUNNEL MURAL

Original mural by Bc Johnson, 1972 - Restored by Mural Routes, 2013

What mysteries does the rainbow hide?

What stories does it share?

What happens if you go inside

for those who travel there?

A portal to epic fantasies,

born of love, crafted with care,

this rainbow has memories.

A memorial to one who died.

A message of hope and caring.

And when you step inside

There’s space for dreams and sharing

amidst stories painted bright.

And when you travel further

the tunnel takes you to the light.

IS THIS THE TRUTH?

I dreamt once,
long ago,
of warmth and loving,
of gentleness and understanding
and truth.
 
And from the mist
of warmth
I awoke and felt the glow of loving
of gentleness and understanding.
And yet I couldn’t tell; where was the truth?
 
I dreamt again, many times
Faces changed
but not the warmth.
I dreamt and hoped
that dreams were true.
 
And then you.

You asked nothing only offered
warmth and loving
gentleness and understanding
Now I can tell,
this is the truth.

Featured in Mythos Poetry Society Love Letter weekly prompt

THE SPEED OF CHANGE

It started out such a lovely day

Sunny skies, puffy white clouds,

people going about their daily business

to work, to play, to school.

And then without warning,
everything changed.
Quietly, without any fanfare
the world blotted out
by a blanket of falling snow
the horizon suddenly hidden.

Did we miss the forecast?
“Sunny skies, light clouds,
whited out by sudden squalls.
It’s messy out there. Stay home.”

Did we miss the forecast

when the world shifted gears?

“Life as you know it is cancelled
schools closed; stores boarded up.
Don’t stockpile. Work from home.
Wear a mask, cough into your sleeve.
Wash your hands. Stay home.”

The forecast seems quite gloomy,
the future lost from sight
behind shifting, blanketing fog.

But the speed of change is constant
nothing ever stays the same.
Tomorrow will bring something new.
Tomorrow may bring rainbows into view.

HAIKU 4

Pink moon glows on the water

lighting up the night

and briefly the world is calm 

SOMEWHERE TO REST A WHILE

 

I am Hatshepsut, ruler of the two lands.
Foremost of Noblewoman, I am King.
Standing on a terrace of my temple,
I can see far across the kingdom
where desert meets fertile green
and beyond that to the mighty river
that snakes throughout the land.
A bond that ties our mighty nation;
gifting us with life and transportation.
 
While I rule, there is peace and joy.
My balanced life ensures the water will be high,
flooding fields, so crops can grow and cattle graze
while fish jump high into open nets.
 
I have built this temple, in the sacred mountain
Not far from where my tomb is dug;
a special place, where I can rest awhile.
For time will come when I must take
the journey through the Underworld,
past gates and demons, to my eternal fate.
Painted spells and incantations 

will safely guide my way.
And you will bring me gifts of food 

and say my name aloud
For while my name is spoken, 

I will never die.
My memory will live on forever, 

and I will never die.

IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD

A stranger appeared one day this fall

Rather ugly and quite tall.
Standing near the road in the wood
He moved to the neighbourhood.
He sure could use some grooming
But with winter looming
We thought it best to let him stay
Since he doesn’t block the way.
 
His species is quite a mystery
In some parts he’s called Yeti
But here, Sasquatch is his name
Although Big Foot is the same.
I am not sure what’s the reason
He dresses up for every season.
But I know today he wants to say,
Have a very, happy Easter Day.

A BIG HUG

 

Such a simple thing, a hug
Arms wrapped around, so snug
A moment to closely share
A quiet way to show you care
It also means, you’re near;
Right beside me; here.
Moments we took for granted
Now so badly wanted.
A virtual hug is not the same
But right now, at this time
It’s all that we can do
So, I’m sending a big one to you.

DREAMING OF A BRAND NEW DAY

 

Rosy morning, slowly colouring clear blue sky,
where eagles soar over rippling rivers,
calm lakes and marshy bays
where lilies open their blooms,
kissed yellow by the sun.
 
Dewy droplets shining on green grass
Bees buzzing where dandelions grow
Monarchs landing on milkweed leaves.
The breeze moving air, so fresh,
the earth rejoices to be reborn
on this glorious brand-new day.
 
Waiting for a brand-new day
when people laugh and dance together
and feast in gathered groups
When missing friends are reunited
and lost ones properly mourned.
 
Dreaming of a brand-new day

Wishing it could be today.