Category Archives: Poetry

For my friends who are parents

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lynch

Ding Dong! The kid’s at school!

Oh, so cool that it’s a rule.

Ding Dong! The little shit’s in school.

Wake up, tiny fool.

Rub your eyes, finish your gruel.

Wake up, you snarky brat, there’s school.

Summer’s done, it’s time to go,

Grab your books before it snows,

Move your ass before the school bell tolls.

Ding Dong! And hidey-ho,

Sing it high, sing it low.

Let’em know, the little shit’s in school!

(Image is property of owner and is used here without permission because I’m old school.)

Flowers

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So much symbolism wrapped up in something so temporal

So much symbolism wrapped up in something so temporal

I didn’t bring you flowers today.

I know I usually do on Thursdays,

But that’s just it, the problem,

I usually do on Thursdays.

Flowers have become rote;

Like the sunrise and sunset.

Assumed, ignored, a fact,

Something we take as a given.

And not just by you, you see,

But by me, the florist, the neighbour.

If you don’t get flowers today,

It’s not that I love you any less,

That you have become less important,

But that you are too important for trivia.

Flowers should be special—are special—

Like each and every sunrise and sunset.

They should be adored and admired

Like I adore and admire you every day.

Flowers should make people stop

And smile, and breathe, and think.

Every flower should be a memory

Burned into our brains, triggering

Love, joy, serenity, excitement, bliss.

I didn’t bring you flowers today.

I know I usually do on Thursdays,

But not today.

Today, I brought you feathers.

Traveller

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Image

Cloud shadows slink among verdant hills

As winged scorpions speckle the air.

The modest murmur of breeze and wave

Is punctuated by staccato calls

Of feathered sentries, alarumed

By movements both broad and subtle.

A sudden stillness hijacks all,

Water rent astride by bow and oar.

A lone traveller, immune to life,

Slices the water in a multihued dugout;

Eye set on the horizon, oblivious

To anguished muscles and sinews,

Passing through the natural world

And yet so much a part of it.

Eddies left behind are enveloped

Quickly by unseen currents;

And all that was before

Is as it was again; peaceful, silent.

Image

Forgotten tribute

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Railway 4

A nation born

On the backs

Of men not welcome.

Forgotten thanks

Never remiss,

Never too late.

Humble peace for your

Nation-building sacrifices

[Dedicated to the sacrifices of the Chinese population within Canada as they helped build the railway system that connected the country shore to shore, as commemorated in an art instillation in downtown Toronto]

Building a trestle, the basis of a bridge perhaps

Building a trestle, the basis of a bridge perhaps

A lone man stands in the line of fire should that rope fray

A lone man stands in the line of fire should that rope fray

His safety harness, a lone hand

His safety harness, a lone hand

Rainy night

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Background lights reflect off watery pavement

Watery applause

filters through my window;

an atmospheric

stream of consciousness,

rafting my mind

to memories thought lost,

of friends, of love,

of pain, of loss.

Flushing rivulets

clear out the old

to make space for

sunnier days ahead.

Heavy rains make for sodden cycling

Heavy rains make for sodden cycling

Rain drops in such profusion that ripples annihilate ripples

Rain drops in such profusion that ripples annihilate ripples