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.

A CAUTIONARY TALE

Sitting in our isolation location
Discussing the current situation
Day 25 and we’re doing alright
Haven’t even had a good fight.
At the moment I am getting quite lazy
But my daily poem stops me going crazy
I am here with the love of my life
So, we will get along without too much strife.
But what if this goes on vey much longer?
I hope we will keep getting stronger
We’ve got food aplenty and also booze
We do exercise and we also snooze.
 
By day 164 the days will go slowly
And tolerance levels might be poorly
The going might get pretty rough.
For some people it will be very tough
I hear from a neighbour through a friend of a friend
About one poor soul who had a nasty end.
 
For on day 362 it came to pass
That a hole was dug deep in the grass
She stuffed her mate in up to his ass
Which I think was pretty crass.
She covered all his bones
Under a big pile of stones.
And surrendered without any emotion
To her a time of enforced isolation
It really is terribly, terribly sad
How the poor thing went completely mad.

A personal note:

While this poem is written light-heartedly, it is not meant to make light of mental illness. I worry that a legacy of the COVID-19 crisis may be an increase in cases of anxiety and mental illness. For that reason I am donating (as a start) the amount that I would have spent on yoga classes, to a charity that provides support for community-based mental health services. I have chosen to support The United Way

Karin

TRAVELOGUE WITH WORDS AND PICTURES

 WHERE ARE WE?

Cape Spear

Perched on the edge of the world
 

Table Bay, Cape Town

The city below us unfurled

Hiking a beautiful trail

Skerwink Trail, Newfoundland

Croatia

Waiting for wind to set sail

Soaring over ancient lands

West bank, Luxor, Egypt

Wadi Rum. Jordan

Over acres of desert sands

Machu Pichu, Peru

Looking from a dizzying height

Cinque Terre, Italy

It truly is an awesome sight

The Pyrenees, Spain

Riding roads that give me shivers

Plitvitce National Park, Croatia

Seeing waterfalls and rivers

Lake Scugog, Ontario, Canada

 Paddling our way home

 Until it's time again to roam

Rome, Italy

TO JACKIE

 To my beautiful daughter Jackie, on her birthday. 

Jackie, at 18 months \

You are
    Like the sun that brightens every day
    bringing warmth and comfort on the way.
You are
    Like the moon travelling through the night
    guiding with its gentle light
You are;
    Like the stars that twinkle in the sky
    sparkling brightly way up high
You are
    Like raindrops falling gently down
    helping fragrant flowers bloom
You
    bring fun, good food and laughter
    as a mother, sister, wife and daughter
I see
     how wise you have become
     in your journeys around the sun.
 
And as you start one more circle
I wish you joy and love eternal.

WHILE WE ARE APART

Today I cannot be with you
           Cannot touch your face
           Cannot hold you tight.
Today we must stay apart
               Must keep our distance
               Must hold our patience.

 But today I can think of you
               Can hear you voice
               Can see your face.
And today I can send my love
               Can wish you well
               Can say your name.

And while we must be apart
I hold a place deep in my heart
Until we can be together
Our hearts are closely linked forever.

INTO THE ABYSS

In the '80s I did a poetry workshop with the late poet Gwendolyn MacEwen. She was brilliant and intense. So much so that I didn't write poetry for a long time for fear that I would sink

Out of confusion comes a light
further on the road ahead
than I had thought to travel.
A guiding light, or a warning
sight of you inspires me 
to venture on the untrodden path.
Ahead, the black abyss beckons
with uncertain promise.
My body, willing to accede, stops,
distorts, teeters on the brink
Held back by doubting mind,
resisting the awful unknown.
Fear and bias tear the joy apart
if truth could be obscured.
But your ray still shines
across the deep abyss.
And knowing you have travelled there, 
I will surely follow.

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

 

There is a stillness in the air today
As if the world could hold its breath
And pause for quiet contemplation.
Like the calm before a storm.
 
Tomorrow there will be lashing wind
Dark clouds to hide the sun
Pelting rain and branches flying
Damage and unforeseen destruction.
A time to hunker down and wait
To stay inside ‘till all is clear.
 
For the storm will surely pass
And rays of sun will warm the earth
Fresh air will blow the clouds away.
The earth will flourish, flowers bloom
The bees and the butterflies
Will settle down on bursting buds
And crops will fill the farmer’s fields.
And birds will fill the air with song
 
And slowly things will right themselves
Although not quite the same.
And there will be time to pause
To stop, consider and give thanks
Count blessings. And mourn too.
And we’ll shake our heads and wonder often
How did that storm approach so fast?
How did we miss the warning signs?
 
There is a stillness in the air today
Like the calm before a storm.

ARRRGH! THE HOUSE SHRANK

 

Wasn't gone for long, just to get some essentials.
Costco line was quite long, carts snaking outside
Proper social distance apart, of course.
Few people inside, the store was so spacious.
Shelves mostly well stocked, ‘cept for TP of course.
Driving home empty roads seem unusually wide.
But while I was gone, THE HOUSE SHRANK.
Two week’s worth of supplies, the bags fill the hall.
No place to walk. Ouch, that’s Lego underfoot.
And there’s such a lot, even under the couch.
No room for the food; did the fridge shrink?
Where’s my favourite chair; I’m sure I left it there.
Aha, its part of a fort of pillows and sheets.
And who’s been on my computer playing solitaire?
Oops. That might have been me.
Help! My brain shrank!
What to do? What to do?
Breathe in and breathe out.
Tearing my hair…
No stop that, the salon is closed
The dentist too, so no grinding of teeth.
Stamping my feet, I let out a yell… ARRRGH!!!
The kids follow suit. They stamp their feet too
And soon there’s a rhythm, a good solid beat.
We troop outside to the front of the house
Stamping and clapping and singing too.
Some neighbours applaud and add to the noise
With clanging of pots and improvised drums.
Amidst laughter and giggles, we all call together
“Stay safe and stay home. We’re in this together.”
I find space in the fridge for all the fresh food
The rest of the groceries can be piled and wait
We eat lunch in the fort and looking around
I see that the house has adjusted; its just the right size.

HAIKU 3

 

THE OONISTS

 

Today is April 1, so you know what that means…no, not April Fool’s Day.

Today is the start of Poetry Month. But instead of a poem, I am subjecting you to a badly written rallying song, which I wrote collaboratively when I was 15. But first, a rambling intro.

I spent 10½ years at a strict, all-girls, Catholic boarding school. That means long periods of isolation from families and the outside world. On the last day of school, I felt as if I had been given a reprieve from a life sentence. But my friends and I huddled together and cried. Because now we had to face reality; choosing our career path; earning a living – yikes; socializing with boys – double yikes. Worst of all, we were moving on and away from the close comfort of each other. Lifelong friends, closer than sisters. Friends are what made the strict regulations of boarding school bearable.

As part of our survival strategy, four of us formed a group – not quite a gang – and called ourselves the Oonsists. Later one more person was inducted into the group. We wasted almost a roll of TP on a scroll for her investiture. (Note: Boarding school TP is very tough, you could easily use it to make face masks.)

And now, if you are still reading, here is our rallying cry. It is meant to be intoned, with a ponderous beat and a slight cadence at the end. It’s best chanted while marching aimlessly around a room. Try it.

WE ARE THE OONISTS  FOUR  FAITHFUL TRUE AND STRONG.
WE STAND FOREVER MORE, WITH LAUGHTER AND A SONG.
OUR MOTTO IS BE FAITHFUL. WE’LL BACK IT TO THE LAST.
BRAVE, BOLD, BELLIGERENT; WE’RE THOROUGH, TRUE AND FAST.

Oonisities to  all.