Thursday, 7 December 2017

Pavillion of Pines

I bow as I enter 
The hushed cathedral 
Lush leaves arching 
Amid the pavilion of pines

A collage of ferns, fronds and fungi
Greets me in the gallery,
My feet treading lightly 
Upon the forest floor 

I hear the cadence of raindrops,
Cascading in the distance, 
See dew dangling 
By a spider’s 
Artistry de jour 

I am captivated 
By colour, shade and shadow,
Drawn further in 
By birdsong 
Of whippoorwills and warblers
Wafting through 
The scent of cedar boughs

I pause 
And ponder
This sacred sanctuary 
Where I kneel down 
To lift up 
A fallen leaf,
Weather beaten and torn
And rise 
With refreshment 
Filling my spirit, 
Feeding my soul

I leave this place of grace
Silently transformed
---
December 7, 2017

Saturday, 11 November 2017

The Vault of the Sky

In the vast vault 
And chamber of sky,
Venus sparkles,
Upon black velvet, bright;
Galaxies on the horizon
Are veiled and sealed;
With a special lens
These valuable gems 
Are revealed;
Glowing orbs 
And radiant rings twinkle
With diadem's delight - 
The universe, a rich vista
Of jewels in the night
---
November 11, 2017

Wednesday, 8 November 2017

Manitchewan, Saskbertoba

Rust coloured trains
Snake alongside 
The Trans-Canada Highway
Through fields of summer
Or flat lands of snow
Past slow-moving tractors
And elevators
That go nowhere at all

Between static 

On the car radio,
The twang of country music
Crops up,
Heat billows in
Past the bug-splattered screen,
The scent of a disturbed skunk
In the distance

The living sky flashes

With echoes from our genesis,
The boom and crackle
Of God's voice in our receptors

There is wildness here

In the land of cattle and combines
Where the wind whips,
Corrals into tornadoes
That reap destruction,
Tips cows on a whim
But the people are friendly -
They'd give you the plaid 
Off their brown, leathery backs
---
November 8, 2017

Sunday, 5 November 2017

No Poets Allowed

No poets allowed
The morning classified read
Well, that just made me fume,
Go red in the head

No wordsmiths like Wordsworth?
And decent blokes like Blake?
Like lots of the news these days,
Maybe it's fake

Is it legal to say
To Shakespeare's crowd
"No stanzas! No quatrains!
No sonneting allowed!"?

"You're not welcome here
With your quill and your pen
Thank you kindly, but please
Don't come back here again"

What about people
Who might dabble in haiku?
"No, none of them, too!"

How dare they discriminate
Against the versifying masses
Oh, wait a minute
Where did I put my glasses?
---
November 3, 2017   

The Plastic Ocean

I tell you there is a beach on Oahu
with blue and green sand;
you say, "Cool, I want to go there"
then you change your plans
when I tell you
it's because of all the 
plastic in the Pacific;
you are utterly repelled
but I wonder if you are compelled
to stop buying what 'they' sell
styrofoam, disposable cups, 
straws, plastic tampons, 
tally it up
crush it, flush it, brush it aside
we live in a disposable world
of generational genocide;
save your plastic Raybans 
for your grandsons and granddaughters;
their future's so glaring
they'll be walking on water
---
October 27, 2017    

Friday, 27 October 2017

Bouffant

My house was on the avenue
The neighbours lived down the road
My hair was in a bouffant
Theirs in pigtails and bows
 
We had bureaus in the boudoirs
Filled with negligees and camisoles
They folded PJs and undershirts
Into dressers, or onto chairs, let them fall
 
At dinner, we sipped on Merlot
In the salon, we perched upon divans
They lounged about on couches after supper,
Ate pizza with their hands
 
We were chichi before it was chic
And bewitching and beguiling
They were down to earth
And always seemed to be smiling
---
October 25, 2017

Wednesday, 25 October 2017

The Sailboat

The sail
The white
The blue
The water
The sparkle
The shine
The waves
The wind
The air
The birds
The song
The stars
The moon
The pull
The draw
The breath
The laughter
The smile
The peace
The calm                             
---
October 25, 2017