Tag Archives: poetry

Sky Talk

Study the language

What is the first line

When did your understanding begin

How many questions have you asked

Why not

Who are you now

Who were you before

What is the one purpose to which you aspire

The sky delivers notes on a messenger bird

Check your pockets

You may imagine you need a translator

You need only be still

Be

What is the message

What does a sky know anyway

More than I

More than you

A dimensional traveller

A seer

A curator of acts

A promulgator of fate

A harbinger

A collage of beauty and debris

A curtain of velvet and chain

A theatre of death metal and symphony

A canvas for reverence and horror

A chameleon of change and stasis

A prophet of mysterium tremendum

Whose eyes witness this same sky

What message do you send

When you believe no one sees

But the eyes of your intention

What is your métier

Today is the matter

Tomorrow you may know better

Forever soars with tireless wings

White Horse

What are the chances one sweet Sunday

you’re snowshoeing in sun just passing

a girl guide troupe with raised open palms

enchanting Whiskey Jacks to alight

Coastal Range holding their mystic line

Salish Sea shimmers like raindrop diamonds

And you’re hoping these picks hold steady

Save your neck from the icy risk at the rim

You stall as you feel its presence

Silent watcher eyes your stumble through

White stallion in camouflage in plain view

There Is No Paper

In the corner of the room, a desk

On the corner of the desk, a microwave

On top of the microwave, a coffee pot

There is a lamp

There is a chair

There is a drawer and I slide it open

There are specks of something, marks of age

There is no paper

There is no need now for it I suppose

People shout their words in their own minds

Tap their concerns by rapid thumb code

Release complaints into social media clouds

Fold their lists into threads of like thinkers

Yet a pencil in hand scratches a road map

A fine point pen follows a river of story

A fury may be transformed to understanding

Fire and rant invited to reason, new passage

Some hold steady the significance of tools

Language and words yearn for expression

Without keys our luggage becomes burden

Or too much a mystery to be discovered

Tunnels of discovery dark and foreboding

We invest in explosives ensuring no passage

Opening the Cage

Someone stirs Poet

imagining her a steamy soup made from river water

He only need stir and wait stir and wait

Boiling sends germs skyward

or so Someone has come to believe

Chains without locks unsteady his focus

but the jingling is comforting, a burden endured willingly for the prize

Red-winged blackbird alights in the hemlock’s shade

his song urging shuffling, then a reluctant stumble of a dance step

Oh distraction! Someone sways in reverie

disturbing the balance of malcontent

Poet escapes while Someone shakes a wooden spoon

that is not a spoon but a rattle with a song

Someone lifts a heavy head of grey anger

resisting the fragility of whispering clouds

Not yet has awareness opened wide enough

to notice Poet has taken the chains

Not yet Someone notices new lightness

Possibility in steps

Ditch Blossoms

One day a week when the sun shines around here I go wandering the hills and streets without warning signs

I hum an old country tune I’m not sure the name of

I might close one eye as I’m stepping to alter my view

Sometimes I walk backwards to see what I’ve left behind

There’s a book stand stuffed with romance I rearrange to make it easier for browsers to choose

Snowdrops grow wild in green ditches

Out

A face is pressed against a window watching

sun’s slow slumber falling behind low hills

A face is thin lines etched into vapour caught

between distance and moments of deep winter freeze

Your face invisible

recording passing scenes

You are a passenger

This is a speeding vessel

You are not aimless but

I am only part time a driver

My attention wavers from

this winding road our wheels move along

That lake looks lonesome

like a wanderer dreaming of home.