Invocation to Sekhmet - Lady of Pestilence

Gracious lady, your power is well known
bringing fear and carnage to the world.
But your goodwill spreads enchantment
protecting us from suffering and plague.
 
May you be soothed by the music of the harp and the flute,
be calmed by the fragrance of the incense we burn.
Drink and be fulfilled by this tasty red beer
Gorge on these meats and the succulent fruit.
 
You, who can summon pestilence, can cast it aside.
Hear the whispers of the people imploring your kindness
Please, we beg you, end the curse that’s infecting the land.
 
When it is gone, we’ll dance in the streets.
We’ll drink and eat and laugh with joy.
And we’ll keep your offering table
Piled high with your favourite treats.
 
Each year we will gather to celebrate together
the beer and the wine will flow in the streets
when we honour your name and remember your kindness.
See you next year at the Festival of Drunkenness.

One Year Later

One year ago, today I gave myself a personal challenge to write a poem a day during COVID 19 isolation. I optimistically assumed that everything would be back to normal in a month or so. After 36 poems, I stopped the daily regime and wrote when the spirit moved me. It’s been 365 days of our new order. To date, I have written 63 poems.

I had a dream of empty streets, a lifeless, listless scene.

Shuttered storefronts, windows dark and blind.

People sparsely scattered, skirting skittishly around;

Eyes alert, behind muffling masks, smiles blanked. 

What happened to the urban bustle, the hustle of daily life?

This seems to be a foreign land with everyone a stranger

distant from one another, no interactions or cheerful greetings;

a mournful quiet; a deep sadness settling down. 

What is this world, so far from what I’ve known?

Is this vision real or a scary made up movie scene?

If I pinch myself, will I wake up 

to see airplanes flying and people dancing

to hear sounds of laughter and music in the streets?

No. Don’t answer me. I know the truth. 

But just for now, let's pretend that reality is a dream

because we can wake from dreams, 

and someday soon we will.

Mmmmmmmmmm?

 Lately

my muse has been muted;

muffled by masks and mixed messages.

But in a mournful moment, I can still make muffins.

(Say that 10 times fast. It's even better with a mouthful of muffin.)

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.

 

 

 

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

 

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 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.

 

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