LyricSmiths
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-
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-
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-
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!
Copyright Bonnie Foster
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-
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 -
He'll find new ways to manipulate you
You poor pathetic dorks
Until the day of "Realization"
Sorry -
Soft -
She crept up behind me
Wearing soft-
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-
And ginseng tea
To stimulate the mind
Soft-
some women like to wear them
Soft-
some wear them all the time
Soft-
They're great for man hunting
Watch out for those women
Wearing soft-
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-
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-
Slipped them on
And made a bee-
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-
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-
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.
Bonnie Foster ©2009
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-
To win a near-
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-
To hope again a new beginning
Consolidated
A-
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-
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-
They are heaven-
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-
wearing still that red wool frock
new made for Christmas pageant
sewn-
no time for button-
snow-
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-
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-
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-
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-
No one left to say good-
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 -
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-
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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