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True Ancients

Kathleen Pronovost

Steel blue water
Marked like the inside of a pomegranate
A holy breeze
Under a blue sky with a few lost clouds
Now the heat rises on my back
I see that the water now has a friendly
Smooth ripple
From the dock I peer down
Ancient stones scattered among the underwater plants
Stone, I wonder how long you have been just sitting there
Again now hidden
Under a pomegranate ripple

Dinner Out

Soft silk
chiffons bare legs crossed,
pressed white linen
hangs cornered over,
hiding black heels
vacated.

Candle flickers in soft sigh
as silver rimmed plates
are masterfully set
at right angles.

Aroma gently tantalizes,
stroking attentive faces
into anticipation.

Delicate amber curls
of carrot crafted into art,
tulle blushing beet batons.
Layered succulent slices linger,
drizzled cranberry port reduction
sweetens breast
of roasted duck.

Wild rice pilaf
infused with woodland morels
softly mound the landscape.

Deep burgundy Merlot
swirls in crystal goblets,
clinking to a toast...

and a fork is lifted.

© Krow Fischer, All rights reserved

White on White

A tacit moon gazes downward,

Streaming a sliver of silver light:

White on White,

To brighten a black covered earth,

Drowsy, in dusk shades of night.

A cloud, half round,

Moves from the shadowy chill,

And Into the sweep,

Of the white warm beam.

Cumulonimbus awakes!

He rolls to towering height,

Roaring out anvil lightning,

He prepares to strike,

The Earth, with his ill humour.

The moon looks on.

Cumulonimbus pauses,

He raises his woolly head.

He peers upward, and into

The graceful expression of the moon.

I like it here, he said.

The morning paper arrives,

Along with Golden Assam,

Dry toast, and ginger marmalade.

On the front page, the headline reads:

“Severe thunderstorm abates,

Sunny skies overhead.”

Bonnie Foster©

September, 2011.

Carnival

By Krow Fischer

It’s all just a carnival, everyone come
life is a blast if you wanna have fun.
Admission entries are welcome to play
‘cause it’s all just a game if you know what they say.
Find your best cu-pie at two bucks a throw
or win the big prize with your ducks in a row.
Head to the grand stand and bow out the clown
where songs sung by nightingales echo through town.
Pay on display for snake oil and charm,
What’s there to loose now, just what’s the harm?

Some like the highs and the lows and the thrill
roller coaster rockers they go for the kill.
Some play the merry-go-round, round they go
where their figments stop well does anyone know?
Those bumper car calluses fade pretty quick,
when you’re in for the ride and your skins really thick.
There’s dashers and dancers and kids on the make
they say you can have and yet still eat the cake.
You were born in the stands of the best show in town
so don’t be discouraged just go the next round..

Sign up right here but don’t take it to heart
I see from that view, that it’s not very smart.
Shown from the side of the carneys who know
it just breaks even, long after the show.
You can’t live your life in a one night town fair
it’s not what it seems, so just best be aware.
Behind all the skill is a gamer at hand,
and when pack up’s all over you might understand
not to buy the illusion that life’s not for keeps
trust take it within where you’ll find quantum leaps.

They sell sheer adrenaline, sugar and fat
and you give your last dollar to experience that.
When it’s all over bright flashing lights out
the loud and the long and the hucksters last shout
are all hauled away down the I-81
the silence is empty when all’s said and done.
Life seems the duller, apple not so sweet
as the caramelized offering candy floss treat.
Pockets are empty but memories grin
as they pay for the boredom that soon settles in.

Life lost lack luster and eyes that can’t see
discern discrepancy just be and be.
Eden is waiting beyond the next veil
that lifts from your eyes when the fantasies fail.
We all are the players the proof’s in the play
unless we wake up and get life underway.
Claim the excitement and follow your star
that comes from unfolding as just who you are.
This earth keeps on spinning you know deep inside
we’re all co-pilots, not just along for the ride.

Mermaid

You drop your stone in the still surface of my soul,
just to see what patterns the ripples make.
Are you searching for buried treasure, or unmarked shoal,
or reef made through coral time keeping,
for your sake?
Mapping out what lies beneath the calm.
as if my rhythms would surface to show all
that moves and grows deeply in my waters, like balm
for the many spirits, fearing themselves lost, who call
echoing across conductivity’s resonance.
I dance.
That’s really all I do, no mystery,
nor clues left lurking in past history,
for you to pry loose and float embarrassingly to the surface.
I am part mermaid.
I breathe water in my dreams.
I can visit the underworld any time or place
easier for me than flying, it seems.
I have charted my waters, my fragile underneaths
dancing to the play of sunlight across my rippling need,
knowing the slipstream pathways that the moon bequeaths
I trust fully where they lead.

Krow Fischer

Sweet & Sour

I guess I'm doing all right

All alone in the city

I saw you both last night

I hope that you are happy

So this is the way of love

The way you want it to be

I hear you're doing all right

Sweet and sour memory

But you could have said good-bye

Instead of just leaving

And here's the funny part

You left me here believing

We had something happening

Seems it happened just for me

I hear you're doing all right

Sweet and sour memory

Every night with you

Brought a rodeo of moonbeams

Dancing on the lovers in the dark

Living every day with sun and flowers

Good things filled my empty, hungry heart

I guess I'm doing all right

Still alone, still lonely

With the innocence of all fools

You were my one and only

I'll try to keep remembering

The way it used to be

I hear you're doing all right

Sweet and sour memory

The idea for this poem/song came

from a box of Chinese food

Born For Trouble

I've got the look of a man that's born for trouble

And trouble seems to be my way of life

I've got the marks to show the way that I've been living

Too many miles, too many drinks, too many women

I've been run out of everywhere, but I'm still showing

I've been put through every way, but I'm still going

And I've been idolized, criticized, victimized, and then some

Too many miles, too many drinks, too many women

You think I'm walking down the road to my damnation

And the seeds I've sown are all that I can reap

As long as I can find another day to borrow

Then I'll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow

I've been thrown out of every bar across this nation

Still I'm drinking overtime, without vacation

I’ve been analyzed, cut down to size, scandalized

And then some

Too many miles, too many drinks, too many women

Clarity

Only a flash in time forward,
The united vision of entwined souls.
Begins, the eternal quest for

understanding

Burnt deeply into forgotten memories.
One soul haunted, yearning to love,
The other with an anguished

need for loves acceptance

The forgotten memories

revived in the fateful embrace
Eyes lock, searching for more
While entwined souls dance
to the graceful song of destiny

Lee Arden Lewis

Looked So Deeply

When I laid you down in love
The world all went away
We shared a breath of conscience
As well as paradise that day

And when you did surrender
We then became as one
You answered to my soul
Something special had begun

Though I was screaming out I love you
The sound it did not flow
So gently you did say it
When you whispered that ‘I know’

I wanted this forever
Our union to last
And only then I asked myself
Did I know you from my past?

And so much has been hidden
The past is shrouded mist
There were few things that I remembered
Except for when we kissed

It felt like years of passion
Held back by passing time
How could it have took so long
To realize you were mine

Ah, then was not the moment
So glad we seized it now
Thanks be for a second chance
And to meet again somehow

For this time needs no reason
And I note with no surprise
I have never looked so deeply
Into a woman’s eyes

Paul Llewellen
London UK via Costa Rica

If I Could Wish Upon A Star

Jeanette Arsenault

If I could wish upon a star

I would go to where you are

If I could have my dreams come true

I would find my way to you

If I could wish upon a star

If I could soar up to the sky

I’d spread my wings & I would fly

I’d glide upon a summer’s breeze

I would do just as I please

If I could soar up to the sky

Oh my true love

Sent from up above

My soul has been set free

Since I’ve found what was missing in me

If I could find my way to earth

Back to the homeland of my birth

Then I could touch both earth and sky

I’d never have to say goodbye

If I could find my way to earth

If I could have both earth & sky

I could love you till I die

Oh how I would feel complete

My life would be ever sweet

If I could touch both earth & sky

The Fishermen

On Eastern Lake Ontario

There's a breed of men,the records show

They earn a living from these waters

In howling winds, in fog or haze

In freezing cold, or pleasant days

The harvesting of fish is all that matters

Hey boys! Start that lifter humming

Hey boys! I'll bet we'll get a ton

Hey boys! Keep those fish a'coming

The nets rise from the water, one by one

While the waiting Seagulls cry out

"Throw me some!"

In tug or punt they ply their trade

With a hidden truth they can't evade

The lake is one mean master, do not trust it

It'll ease your mind, It'll cleanse your soul

It'll test your skill, and it will know

If you have got the strength to keep up with it

Hey boys! Have you ever rode white horses?

Hey boys! Did you ever bite the wind?

Hey boys! Have you ever see waves dancing?

The lake is not the place for timid men

It'll suck you down and spit you up again

The corks they fly, the leads they click

Fish boxes spin, the pickers pick

The tail off man calls out for a tie-on

The nets descend on sandy shoals

On hidden bars, and mud-filled holes

No one knows for sure

Just where the fish are hiding

Hey boys! There's whitefish on the south shore

Hey boys! There's perch deep in the bay

Hey boys! The eels are really biting

Grab the gear before they get away

For who can tell how long the fish will stay

From Long Point, Bear Point, Honeycomb Bar

There's a thousand sets, and none's too far

The fish may drive

But the fishermen will find them

With trap net, hoop net, gill net, seine

Against the odds, they still remain

Even though they feel their way of life is dying

Hey boys! To-day we had a good lift

Hey boys! So we didn't net a ton

Hey boys! Let's look on the bright side

The nets were clean, and we saw a little sun

And to-morrow we can make another run

I worked as a commercial fisherman for several years.

This poem sort of describes the day by day routine most

fishermen adhere to.

The Sound of Haiti

The sound was deafening

The day the earth caved in

Mothers crying for their children

As all the walls gave in

Everything they had was gone

How could they even carry on

Everywhere they turned around

They heard a thunderous sound

CHORUS

It was the sound, it was the sound

The sound of the earth shaking

The sound of hearts breaking

That even shook the heavens

It was the sound, it was the sound

The sound of souls aching

And the sound of hell awaking

It was the sound…..

So they lifted their voice

& they sang

Hymns that filled up the night skies

On every corner it rang

Until sunrise

And the sound was deafening

On every city street

Mothers singing to their children

With a sound so sweet

Everything they had was gone

But they k they could go on

Everywhere they turned around

They heard a joyous sound

CHORUS

It was the sound, it was the sound

It was the sound of people praising

A sound that was amazing

That even shook the heavens

It was the sound, it was the sound

Of hallelujah raising

A sound that was bemazing

It was the sound,,,,,

REPEAT CHORUS

And the sound was deafening…

The Heart Knows When To Bleed

The heart knows when to love forever

The heart knows when to hate

The heart knows when to be happy

The heart knows when to break

The heart knows every situation

Your every wanting need

But most of all, the worst of all

The heart knows when to bleed

The heart feels every teardrop

And every winning smile

A heartbeat is less than a second

A heartache can take a while

A jealous heart keeps wondering

A trusting heart is free

But most of all, the worst of all

The heart knows when to bleed

The heart can be forgiving

The heart can lock up tight

The heart can love a stranger

The brave heart knows what is right

A warm heart is ever loving

A cold heart best take heed

But most of all, the worst of all

The heart knows when to bleed

The heart has empty feelings

The heart can over-flow

You can lie, and cheat, act stupid

The heart will always know

The veteran of many broken hearts

I know, I feel, I see

But most of all, the worst of all

The heart knows when to bleed

WAITING FOR THE SUN TO GO DOWN

You sparkled like diamonds

In the light from the moon

You trembled as we waltzed

To a werewolf's eerie tune

Everyone loved us at the

"Green Vampires Ball"

I had to leave you

At the first rooster's call

Hungry bloodlust feeling

Can't shake this

Hungry bloodlust feeling

I'm really hating this

Lying in my coffin waiting

Waiting

For the sun to go down

To-night will be our night

Immortality, my gift to you

A deep bite on your sweet neck

Hey, I'm a vampire

That's what I do

Your blood it was racing

It rose to full tide in your veins

Your eyes were like twin stars

Then that spear of daylight came

Your soft neck was

Oh so inviting

I wanted to taste you

Oh so madly

But we ran out of time

Ah, but to-night you'll be mine

I'm just waiting

for the sun to go down

THE OVERSIGHTER

I was slapped with a label by fellow poets

Maybe I had too much to say

They called me an "Oversight" and they were sorry

For omiting my poem from a book they had published

In celebration of "International Woman's Day"

Now I know that I'm not the right gender

But don't all men have a feminine side?

The truth may lie in the fact....I was an intruder

And couldn't possibly understand their strife

Then to-day I was reading a local paper

My eyes caught a notice from the Quarter Moon

Thanking all the talent that had participated this season

My name wasn't there, another "Oversight" I'm sure

So I say, "Please excuse my intrusion"

Just call me the invisible man

You know....it's kind of cool to be an "Oversighter"

To stand insignificant and guiltless

and write about them

SUMMER

Summer comes and Summer goes

We dig and plant, row on row

Flowers sprout and flowers grow

Summer comes and Summer goes

We weed and feed and plead

And water every day a need

Summer comes and Summer goes

Forever watchful as they show

Endless beauty row on row

Summer comes and Summer goes

Turning cold with skies of gray

Flowers fade by end of day

Summer comes and summer goes

Summer comes and Summer goes

Ground grows hard with sleet and snow

Puts to sleep the land we sow

Summer comes and summer goes

by.....Barb Hobson

You Just Destroyed My Day

I just woke up

And already you're complaining

Another day is starting out all wrong

I don't know why

But still I keep on hoping

Some fine morning

I'm going to hear a different song

Well okay dear

So I didn't mail your letter

And I refused to let your

Mother come to stay

And then last night

I may have had one drink too many

But thanks a lot hon

You just destroyed my day

Now that I'm up

I think I'll have a nice hot cup of coffee

A cup of coffee

Will be so much warmer dear than you

What's that again?

You have a few more names to call me

Why don’t you save them for to-morrow

For to-day the fussing is through

So long to you babe

'cause I have to leave for work now

What no good-bye?

Oh, you have nothing more to say

Don't be concerned girl

If the door slams as I'm leaving

I feel so great now

You just destroyed my day

I think that every married couple

Has had at least one of these days

The True ancients

Steel blue water

Marked like the inside of a pomegranate

A holy breeze

Under a blue sky with a few lost clouds

Now the heat rises on my back

I see that the water now has a friendly

Smooth ripple

From the dock I peer down

Ancient stones scattered among the underwater plants

Stone, I wonder how long you have been just sitting there

Again now hidden

Under a pomegranate ripple

Kathlean Pronovost

“The True Ancients might make you wonder about

how long your souls journey through life has been...after all,

I do feel that we are destined to come back...but are you as old as a rock?”

CELIBATE

Running through my mind

of something real

The days so long into a journey after this

looking out the window

with no expectations

Just one day rolling into the next

with no effect

Nothing affecting

Company for the dust bunnies

The day before I met you again

I was not running anywhere

I was not even counting on breakfast

Just chopping the day down

with books and work

One tree after another

With more than one disturbing look

at the paper cutter

Timber goes the pile of words

like crumpled leaves under my bed

Keeping company with the dust bunnies

beneath me

Kathlean Pronovost

The Battle

Daily I go forth

To do battle with the lake

Armed with a fish-pick and nets

My trusty steed

Is a small punt and motor

My allies are knowledge

Strong arms, strong back

The veteran of

A thousand encounters

That I've survived

But never won

To put bread upon the table

This conflict must go on

For there's billions of fish

Within it's waters

And it fights

To keep it that way

And I am but

An unneeded Interloper

Who raids, retreats

Then returns every day

So I'm not angry

When it calls up the east wind

And it screams the song

Every fisherman dreads

It's the sound of moss and weeds

And tree trunks rolling

That can leave your nets in shreds

And I don't mind

When it calls up it's white horses

And they give you

The ride of your life

For it's real

Not a game you are playing

If you can't take it

Best stay home, find a wife

For it's no lover

It's more like a hater

And you had better

Respect it's ways

And if you're lucky

Some days you'll be rewarded

When the fish come rolling in

Like clumps of grapes

And for a while you may feel

It's all been worth it

Persistence pays off

Now and then

But tomorrow may be

A different story

When it's back

To the battle again

This poem describes the struggle

To make ends meet

Encountered by commercial fishermen

Everybody Wants To Go To Heaven

Everybody wants to go to heaven

But nobody wants to die

Everybody wants to see Jesus

We'll all meet him by and by

And what are you going to tell him

When you can't blame the other guy?

Everybody wants to go to heaven

And we'll all get there if we try

For there's a little bit of God in everybody

Everybody that you see

From the deep down darkest sinner

To the likes of you and me

So raise your arms shout "Hallelujah"

I'm telling you if you haven't heard

There's a little bit of God in everybody

Everybody spread the word

Everybody's worrying about to-morrow

But forgetting about Judgment Day

Everybody's going to meet their maker

And what are you going to say

It won't do no good to start pleading

It won't do no good to cry

Everybody wants to go to heaven

We'll all get there if we try

I wrote this poem for a minister friend of mine

I think I was trying to prove that I wasn't

The sinner he presumed me to be

He liked the poem, but said, he couldn't use it

Too Baptist, or something like that

The Final Moment

You can tell when it begins

When there's nothing

You can say or do to stop it

It's like a coldness in her eyes

A stillness in her voice

Like the silence of a feather

When you drop it

And the shiver that you feel

As you try to hold her close

These are all tell tale signs

Of the torment

And when that sadness, settles in

Then you know you have reached

The final moment

It's the moment of hard truth

Each lover has to face

When love has ended

And no matter how you try

You can't stop that clock in time

Not once that final second

Has descended

No, there's nothing you can do

To go back when love was new

And you're slowly

Realizing the torment

And the regrets, they begin

For you know you have reached

The final moment

And I'm just going through

The final moment

Of a love I thought would last

Till time was done

Yes I'm just going through

The final moment

And the tears for losing her

Have just begun

The idea for this poem

Came from a football game

It was near the end of the game

When the announcer said

"We're down to the final moment"

That remark stuck in my head

March 6, 2010

Five days a week, I pass the house,

One of those sweet little high pitched

A-frames, built from concrete block,

Corner windows, a covered porch

Trimmed in white.

This is her house,

This is where she sat,

Did she die of natural causes?

No one is clear.

I think of her often,

We never met.

I saw the smoke, later the flames.

The fire trucks already there.

I asked the woman in the café

Did the call come from inside the house?

No, she said, it was the neighbour;

He telephoned for help.

The windows and doors to the house

Are shut, nailed with plywood sheets.

On the chained link fence, a sign reads

Keep Out!

In spite of this, the house

Looks somewhat the same,

Excepting when daylight,

Appears through the hole in the roof,

Exposing the charred wooden beams.

How did the fire start? No one is certain.

The paper reads “cause unknown”.

Where are her next of kin, I ask.

The woman in the café shrugs.

The house will come down.

There is no one else.

I search the online obituaries

From Canada and the U.S.

But, nowhere can I find

The name of the woman

Who died inside the burning house.

Danielle! In memory of you,

Peace, Salut!

OBAMA

You call him a great man

I call you all fools

You believe his reteric

As he wants you to do

So buy up his snake-oil

And keep asking for more

He won't care if you all die

In unwinable wars

For he's riding the ultimate ego high

The most powerful man in the world

But power needs new fuel to keep running

Follow the leader - tag along

He'll find new ways to manipulate you

You poor pathetic dorks

Until the day of "Realization"

Sorry - too late

Soft - Soled Shoes

She crept up behind me

Wearing soft-soled shoes

Lord, I didn't have a chance

To get away

Her dark eyes were flashing

As she grabbed me in her arms

I thought, this has got

To be my lucky day

So I didn't even struggle

As she led me to her room

All night we loved

And laughed away the time

When we sat down to breakfast

It was oysters on the half-shell

And ginseng tea

To stimulate the mind

Soft-soled shoes

some women like to wear them

Soft-soled shoes

some wear them all the time

Soft-soled shoes

They're great for man hunting

Watch out for those women

Wearing soft-soled shoes

A prisoner to her passion

She just wouldn't let me go

Though weak

I tried to run a time or two

But she would always catch me

With her soft-soled shoes

Saying, "Come back honey

I'm not through with you"

One evening she was sleeping

And I opened up my eyes

Escape was lying

Right there on the floor

I reached out gently

For those soft-soled shoes

Slipped them on

And made a bee-line

Through the door

“Sometimes in my life I've bitten off

More than I can chew. This is but one example”

The Wrong Side Of The Rainbow

I skipped a life and floated

In a dark blue milky void

Suddenly I was pulled back into

A rebirth I tried to avoid

I came into this crazy world screaming

Evicted from the comforts

Of my sweet, mother's womb

Slapped around just enough

To keep me screaming

And living with the hell fire

In a mind exploding tomb

You could say that I was born

On the wrong side of the rainbow

And on the wrong side of the rainbow

You've got to color up your dreams

And do all your mountain climbing

While the summer sun is shining

And all the time keep smiling

So no one hears your screams

Each morning of my life

I wake up screaming

Seeing through a demon's eyes

A soul that I once sold

It's hard to realize

I've just been dreaming

Chasing magic notions

That I'll find that pot of gold

I wrote this poem after reading

Helter-Skelter. Need I say more.

NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS

It happens between Christmas and the new year

A feeling of guilt that slowly shifts into high gear,

Until You feel compelled to pick up paper and pen

And make some New Year's resolutions

Losing weight, quit smoking, exercise more, etc.

Is a futile effort, and for a few weeks you are guiltless

So I don't even bother writing them down

Here's my top New Years resolutions that

I feel confident I can keep

I'm going to feel the love of Valentine's Day

I vow to see another birthday

I'm going to sing "Danny Boy" on St. Patrick's Day

I'll watch March come in like a lion, or maybe out like a lamb

I'll listen to birds as they sing their happy songs

I'll enjoy the first warm day of Spring

And watch as buds become leaves

I'll enjoy the fresh smell of lilacs, lily of the valley,

and all those other wonderful flower fragrances

I'll horn trip to Pt. Petre as often as I can

And visit friends as often as I can

I'll languish at the cottage until I'm sure I've mellowed out

I'll bathe in the warm summer sun and get a tan

I'll write new songs, finish writing old ones, start new ones

I'll enjoy each season's harvest

I'll feel the nip of autumn and watch

as the leaves turn red and gold

I'll be thankful this Thanksgiving

I'll enjoy handing out treats on Halloween

I'll watch geese as they wing their way south

And listen to their honking songs

I'll enjoy winter's first snowfall

Christmas will be the best one ever

I'll celebrate 2011 and make these same

New Year's resolutions

IT'S ANOTHER COUNTY CHRISTMAS

It's that time of year again

Snowflakes are falling outside

The fireplace burns brightly

Everyone is full of joy tonight

It's another county Christmas

that special time we've known

since we were young

It's another county Christmas

Merry Christmas everyone

The Christmas tree is standing tall

All draped in it's holiday dress

The stockings hang along the wall

Waiting for Santa to do the rest

The children's eyes grow heavy

Dreaming of the presents he will bring

It's another county Christmas

You can hear a church bell ring

Mama's busy in the kitchen

Baking mince tarts and pumpkin pies

Papa’s fixing up the turkey

You can hear him softly humming "Silent Night"

Grandma's reading from the bible

The story of a manger and a son

It's another county Christmas

Merry Christmas everyone,

No Dogs Allowed

Well there ain't no dogs

Allowed to hang around

In your towns, or in your cities

For the residents there

Don't like it much

'cause their grass

Is green and pretty

They get all shook up

When they see that you're a dog

Why they turn all weird and skitty

You sure don't want

To be a dog on the loose

In a town, or in a city

So you finally found

What you're digging for

Then you find that they don't dig it

'cause you're running around town

With your puppy-dog eyes

And trying to "Mr. Big" it

They start pulling your tail

Come election time

You just know they're gon'na rig it

When you finally find

What you're digging for

You may find that you don't dig it

So you get a little bread

Off of the welfare line

'cause the government reluctantly gives it

Take what you get

Don't give them no lip

And make sure you don't abuse it

A couple weeks later

You're scratching at the Food Bank

Hang in there dog, don't lose it

And then they tag you

With a name like "The Cronic Poor"

Even though you didn't choose it

Take a ''D'' and an ''O''

And a ''G'' my friends

Do you know what you're spelling?

Well dog is the word, dog is your life

And a dog house is your dwelling

Where it all started

Where it'll all end

There ain't no way of telling

But I swear it's true

Right here, right now

It ain’t dog dirt

that you're smelling

So you howl at the moon

Just for something to do

To try to get attention

Everyone hears you

But it's only other stray dogs

That understands your situation

'cause you're just a dog, a mangy cur

To low to even mention

There's no dogs allowed

Get out of town

And know when

You've been beaten

I wrote this about a friend of mine

He's still out there

Searching for bones

And trying to get by

Nightfliers

The door to the shala slides shut.

Incense ash and fire glow float up,

And out and in between that slip,

Of time where in and out space meet.

Beneath the wooden terraced walk,

Brown leaves lift; fall on stone.

Slatted light between the cracks.

Casts down on crackling brush,

Things forgotten, left over pots.

The seasonal equinox sweeps,

Up; the arc of time shifts to

Announce the coming frost.

The scent of cut cedar burns bright,

From the window of a nearby house,

Gray curls from a high mounted flue;

Send sparks skyward.

It is the time of the Beaver moon;

Pond mists rise in ghostly form,

Shaping the stately spruce,

Enshrouding the gentle pine.

No orb, no silvery beam tonight,

Shines fixed to light the way,

For travelers on foot,

Hurrying to be home,

Overhead a sound pierces the quiet,

High above a mass of moving,

Rolling tumbling cloud,

A cry resounds,

Repeats, answers,

Resounds again.

It is the call of the Nighfliers,

As they move in V formation,

To over winter,

On southern nesting ground.

Three, nine thousand feet,

High, they soar!

Along Earth’s magnetic field.

From way up there,

We are to them,

But small in matter,

After all.

Lonely Neon People

Oh can't you hear the crying

Of the lonely neon people?

They populate your cities every day

They're reaching out for someone

Hey! does no one have the time

To listen to a hope or dream

Maybe lost in yesterday?

I've seen them on the subways

The lonely neon people

Their solitude is etched within their frowns

I tried to say "Hello" once

But the silent soul kept walking

As if she couldn't hear me calling

Through her own small world of sounds

The hopelessness and sorrow

Of the lonely neon people

They try so hard to stay

Indifferent till the end

I seen a young attractive maiden

Hide her fascinating face

Behind a book that showed her

How to meet a friend

I've seen them on the sidewalks

The lonely neon people

They all wander off to somewhere

But I don't mind

For I know if I keep searching

There has got to be a someone

And unlike the neon people

A friend, someday I'll find

I read in the Toronto Star that the

Number one illness in Toronto is

Lonliness. Had to write about it

Nightpeople

Well I don't know

Where the night people go

When it comes to closing time

And I don't care

That they want another song

Maybe I'll give them one of mine

Another town

Another one night stand

Another sweet woman

To keep me warm

She's sleeping now

Can't remember her name

Maybe it's just as well

No I don't know

Where the night people go

Seems they all just fade away

By tomorrow night

They'll all reappear

Friends and lovers, yesterdays

For I can't take

Another broken heart

Haven't got a tear left to cry

Don't want to ride this trail

Of broken dreams no more

Just give me the reins

And let me fly

Daisy Cole & I were discussing people

You meet while travelling

You see them that one time

Then they're gone from your life

The Ballad of Gray Owl

He was silent as a shadow

He was eager as the wind

We thought he was an Indian

And in his heart he may have been

When the night is cold and bitter

And the raging blizzards howl

I think of Archie Belaney

The man they called Gray Owl

He descended on the north land

Like a great bird from the sky

When the freeze up had just started

And the Northern Lights were high

While the screaming furies warned him

That he shouldn't linger there

He thumbed his nose to the harsh wind

And shook his raven braided hair

He learned secrets from the wild land

That few white man ever knew

Raised a cabin, set his traps

Built his own birch bark canoe

He would portage to his trap line

He would travel through the night

And take his catch of beaver

By the winter sun's cold light

He was friend to all the Indians

And they treated him as their own

Still he hunted down the beaver

In great numbers still unknown

Then his savage heart grew lonely

And he took to him a wife

She found a pair of orphaned beaver pups

And that day changed his life

That something he'd been searching for

But never seemed to find

Made him hang up all his traps

And leave the wanderlust behind

She loved him and encouraged him

Along his new found way

And he promised her that he would

Make it all come right, some day

He traveled to his native land

To help the beaver's cause

He begged the Great White Chief

To press for new and better laws

And the beaver made a comeback

With his wise and helping hand

To become a thing to cherish

The true symbol of our land

I wrote this after reading his biography

To Win a Near-by Soul

To win a near-by soul

To lose the one that you love most

Wishing that it would just go away

Where for art you for now

Consolidate a new beginning

In the face of trouble

You will see that your soul

Your soul is magic and a-chronological

To hope again a new beginning

Consolidated

A-chronological

Hard won for today

Begin in hope I have you now

Win, win for me

Bring on the new soul

Ballast out now

By Kathlean Pronovost

Wars Of The Mind

In the mist stands a man
An Empty Twisted Shell
His life has been harsh
A nightmare straight from hell
He is a seasoned veteran
In many a war
In cold dark places
No one dares to explore

Savagely stealing time
Wars of the mind
Controling your personality
You've been left behind

David Benson

Swan

What capricious God's design

Is swan?

Elegant, pure, devine

Destined to spend it's time

Arse in air

Head in slime

by Doug Forrest

The Shetland Islands

Calling Me

by .... Jerry Foster

The other night I couldn't get to sleep

For like an old familiar melody

Floating with the fresh new world of spring

Came a sweet song from the the county, calling me

I've been lost in this city much too long

I've always known of where I want to be

My heart is right, my way of life is wrong

The lure of the county, keeps calling me

I can almost hear the sounds

And see the friends that I've been missing

The county has the answers that I need

Come and live the life, your hungry soul desires

That sweet song from the county's, calling me

The night wind still whispers through the trees

And it tempts me with the things I can't quite see

It knows I long to answer to the call

For the lure of the county, keeps calling me

Come on home to the county now,

Everything is waiting

Come and feel the freedom that you seek

It's stronger now, the yearning, want-to, feeling

That sweet song from the county, keeps calling me

You can leave the county

But the county never leaves you

Love and Loss

The pleasure a simple touch can say
How can it be forgotten?
The passion that takes your breath away
How can it be forgotten?
A kiss from his lips that makes you quiver
How can it be forgotten?
Your bodies so near that it makes you shiver
How can it be forgotten?
The warmth of his breath that makes you sigh
How can it be forgotten?
The intensity that makes you cries
How can it be forgotten?
The pain of loss when you don't know why
Can never be forgotten

Kathryn Ann Johnson

ANGELS

A song for Elijah Cole

J. Arsenault c. 2008

CHORUS:

There are angels upon this earth

Angels who are sent to us at birth

They are born to show us love

They're a gift from above (REPEAT)

They are heaven-sent

They are heaven-lent

They are miracles to behold

They are dear to us

Forever near to us

To bring us joy untold

CHORUS

There are angels

All around us
Angels

Who surround us
Who hold our hearts in their hands
When we just don't understand

CHORUS

“I wrote it for Elijah Cole, the 16 year old who played the choking game and lost his life on December 11, 2008.I promised his mother that wherever I can, I would help raise awareness of the dangers teenagers are putting themselves in by playing this sometimes fatal game.In effect, it is not a game.”

Tendergreen

By Jerry Foster

Watching as our world turns tendergreen

And the snow slowly melts, from the meadow

A robin cries

"Cheer up, my friend, it's spring"

And the world comes alive

And the days grow warmer

Seems a Crocus pops up blooming

You hear a bull frog croak a tune

The bitter thoughts of winter fades away

Watching as our world turns tendergreen

Enjoying our world of tendergreen

Country mornings, country evenings

Country living, has everything

Country mornings, country evenings

Hearts remaining, tendergreen

Watching as our world turns tendergreen

And we stroll hand in hand, as two lovers

You came to me

When the world was tendergreen

After all these years

I feel that we're still lovers

Summer's the time for growing

Autumn has the harvest moon

Winter's cold and dreary, or so it seems

Watching as our world turns tendergreen

Enjoying our world of tendergreen

While planting my garden I noticed the bean seeds

were called "Tendergreen." What a wonderful word.

Had to use it in a poem.

Newton Lovelock

The Scientific Experiment The Science of your now
Wow to the pendulum that has swung The apex of the minute outcomes
From Newton’s light To the minuteness of your ponding
From a prism Your parts per trillion counter

Fallen, from the trees GAIA, goddess of the earth
Apples Pagan Title
Thudding to the ground Over your holistic theory
One by one Knocking down one tube at a time

Contemplate, Meditate Contemplate, Meditate
Pull your self up Pull yourself up
In spite of gravity In spite of the ‘Revenge of GAIA’
To the heavenly bodies To the earthly Miracle

Born on Christmas Day Finding on Christmas Day
How could you know Electrical Gears
That from the Nature of Reality Promising
You could see that it had a behaviour That you will find out how it works

So absent mindedly So on you go
You who ponder Independent Scientist
While Calculus grabs you Prove on, our cyclical past
Proving ever after To GAIA surviving us

K.P.

Reflections

A damp rainy night, a cold lonely bed
To be without you for long, I must be out of my head
The rain drums out a beat, on my window pane
Reflections of an empty room are driving me insane

Reflections of an empty room
Reflections of an empty bed
Reflections of our time alone
And all the words we said
Reflections.

David Benson, Angus ON

A HAPPENSTANCE
by Jerry Foster

I danced with gypsies by the caves of Granada,
Drank their sweet wine, as guitars, and ,
Felt indescribable bliss, which seized my vulnerability,
And hurled me, spinning, leaping, around the bonfire of life,
Then I wandered down into a valley of shadows,
and bathed in a midnight pool,
Laid my body down, on a carpet of soft, green moss,
Slept the peaceful sleep of an innocent wayfarer,
Fluid dreams of wonderment, with past lives revisited,

Waking at dawn I climbed out of the shadows,
And gazed at my lover's dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes,
A final kiss, a long embrace, a knowing look, and she had left me,
I stood and listened to songbirds as they greeted the day,
Refreshed but alone, I continued on my journey,
Searching for something, more illusive than a grain of sand ,
But I will know it, when I find it, of this I am certain,
Even the olive trees seemed to smile,

Coming home
(My mother, myself)

We meet more often now
along the pathway
plodding heavily through snowdrifts
on the way to school, uphill, the bells a-ringing
wearing still that red wool frock
made for Christmas pageant
sewn-into it the morning
no time for button-holes
snow-pants stuffed under skirts
boots buckled tight.

The smell of yeast invades
the kitchen, elbows deep in dough
kneading thoughts together
eyes aglow, the oven?s heat
radiating round a wreath
of bread, dressed in red
cherries, nuts and icing
sliced thickly, butter-slathered, rich with love.
Those flashy, rainbow birthday cakes
rise up full blown from memory
treasured coins wrapped in waxed paper
lighting candles, wishing.

We meet more often now
in fields of dandelion songs
where my grand-children romp
and lullabies rain down the night
to echo all the day
where, too, a riff of gypsy music
violined to tears ---
play, fiddle, play ---
sways, dances down the years.

We pause before the mirror
and see the lines form much the same ---
eyes deep-set, green-grey, tiring.
Your voice startles from my throat
a turn of phrase and hand to mouth, a laugh escaping.

Like a coming home
across the genealogy of time,
your life is mine
and mine is yours, extended, flowing
in continuum.

Vivien Masseau Taylor

THE PROPHECY
by Jerry

The forests, the waters, the earth, and the sky,
Were all here when I was born, they'll be here when I die,
The ancients foretell it, our future is soon,
Man's greed will fulfill it, this prophecy of doom,

When the winds of war, blow from land to land,
And no nation will listen, then the whole world is damned,
Then the horsemen will ride, in a crimson tide,
Till there's no one to turn to, no where to hide,

When all the world has gone insane,
And no one wants to stop the rain,
When mighty mushrooms fill the sky,
There'll be no one left to say good-bye to,
No one left to say good-bye,

Chinese Dragons breathing fire,
U.S. Eagle takes to wing,
Russia's Great Bear is growling fiercely,
Even India's Tiger has left it's lair,
What chance has a poor White Dove of surviving?

And the forests will burn, till their ashes are cold,
And the waters will boil, and be covered with mold,
And the earth will be seared, till there's nothing but sand,
And the black sky will hide, the last traces of man,

The forests, the waters, the earth and the sky,
Were all here when I was born,
One way or another, they'll be here when I die,

THE BLUE GUITAR
by Jerry

He waits all alone in a back corner bar,
A wrinkled old man with a blue guitar,
He will pick you a tune, if you can pay the price,
Of feeling way down, and then some,
For when he plays the blue guitar, he plays it lonesome,

His fingers caress the bright and silver strings,
As if they are some kind of living things,
He searches the room for another lost fool,
His eyes fall on me, he's found one,
He starts to pick the blue guitar, I feel the tears come,

For the song he plays tells of wasted years,
Filled with empty dreams, full of haunting fears,
He glares at me with those all knowing eyes,
He has captured my mind, and I can't take it,
For the blue guitar rings true, I want to break it,

And just when I think his song will almost end,
He reaches way down through my soul again,
And drains whatever there is left of me,
Till I can't feel a thing but heartache,
Then he sets down the blue guitar, but not for my sake,

For he understands the inner thoughts of man,
And he knows that soon I will be back again,
I have heard his tune, and I have paid the price,
Of feeling way down, and then some,
And he will pick the blue guitar, and play it lonesome,

lonesome, lonesome

Red Wing Blackbird

Ahead,
The road bends,
It pulls my gaze,
From the soot covered, black topped
Map of asphalt tract,
Towards a natural space - wetland.

I see tall marshland grasses,
With papery tapers unfurled.
Stand at attention in water, dark and amber.
Deep roots descend below the surface, concealed.
Up top, leafy bracts extend in play, a greeting,
To the gently passing late summer wind.

The steel machine slows. The engine makes idle.
The wheels stop with a turn of the key.
Driving lights cool, diminish to black,
I hear the sound of an involuntary sigh,
And know that the sound I hear is mine.

Alone in thought, and in fact,
I step into the wider view.
Of panoramic sky and light,
As dawn, nature’s eternal rite
Sends her palatial hue across a wide and open sky.

This journey is a laboured thing.
A promise made, spoken with intent.
Far removed, it’s magnitude,
Clings, fills me with regret.
The road ahead is as far as the one behind.

This space is kind to eyes made weary,
By expectation, and a long night’s drive,
Through towns lit by the glare
Of yellow, unrelenting passing lights,
Casting shadows upon the walls of those who dream.

Atop a slender stalk of grass,
A bird stands, singing his morning song –,
“Oak-a-tree”. A flash of wing I see.
It is his red badge of courage,
And in his singular call, “chek, cheer”,
I find, once again, the place of my inner resolve.

© Bonnie Foster, November, 2008

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