A Year of Poems

take note

2012-02-17T10:51:00.000-06:00

upright alert head
of cat at window eyeing
bright new snow cover

after a restless night; or red-rimmed random thoughts

2012-02-16T09:42:00.000-06:00

red-rimmed eyes look back at me in the mirror

lying awake
and then getting up to do iTunes task on the computer
at 3 in the morning

back in bed
fitful dreams about larry’s book
with plasticized yellow cover
and the red-highlighted passage mocking martin
laughing in the school gym

lying on blue flannel and
finally getting up and putting on
lester young bopping way too fast for my red-rimmed ears
but reminding me of the spirit of living in joy
like my cat chasing a golf tee around the house
in bursts of sinew stiff energy

but now the jazz has slowed to a blues
walking along singing the red-rimmed world
and the cat is stretched out in utter relaxation as I
gaze at the painted rock that anchors the plant filled stand
cactus and aloe
blue stars and green leaves with sparkles
and a red-rimmed circle mirroring me
and my teary eyes

thinking of Syrian children executed in hospitals
whitney in a bathtub
four men trapped in burning trailer
famililess father
and a deadly fire in Honduran prison
kids car surfing
hanging on to the top of the van as it swerves across
winter road
body flying off
and the permanent red-rimmed eyes of the
parents

for the world (water poem VII)

2012-02-15T11:31:00.000-06:00

the world needs

in Syria so full of blood
in Palestine so full of shouting
in Greece so full of burning
in Egypt so full of the tug of power
in America so full of furious flickering
in Africa so full of empty stomachs
in cities near and far so full of empty-eyed children
in China
in Burma
in Russia
in India
in Mexico
in Central America
in Iraq
in Afghanistan
in Europe
in South America
in shrinking forests
in the melting north
in corrupt halls of power
what am I missing? a lot
in my ignorance

needed
needing
needs
a cool
refreshing
healing
peace-bringing glass of
pure
unreserved
undeserved
grace

locked (to j.)

2012-02-14T11:13:00.000-06:00

some evenings we bundle up and
take a walk
side by side on the frozen streets
of this little windswept winter town

stars prick out the blackness
on the darker corners
and we look and
see orion
and ursa major
and other unknown collections of distant suns

and I imagine they are there just for us
lighting our joined journey
through a windy and cold world
where we
lean on the other for
strength
------- truth
-------------- assurance
-------------------------love

like a pair of suns locked in each other’s orbit
seen from below as one bright star in the chilled heavens

we will walk together
until our boots crunch the driveway snow
and we are home

Dad - my morning memories

2012-02-13T10:43:00.000-06:00

I see him standing at the bottom of the stairs in our Gretna house
white shirt and tie calling impatiently for me to come down to breakfast
bill guest speaking importantly from the radio in the kitchen and then I
come down sleepy-eyed the only one left in the house all others off at
university or working sitting down to toast and chokecherry jam and
coffee but first he reads the calendar devotional thick index fingers
rolling up the thin paper as he reads in German of course then a prayer
and the radio goes back on cbc news marking the day with an event or
two from the middle east I may ask a question and he knows the answer
but it is usually a wordless meal before we rush into the brown dodge and
we drive the tree-lined streets to the school where he is the principal and
I am in awkward grade 9 in class he was a different person animatedly
telling stories about Martin Luther or John A. and making history come
alive me not questioning the disconnect between the taciturn father and
brilliant teacher just accepting the unspoken love that flowed between our
distant but intertwined spirits

Leonard Cohen (a tribute)

2012-02-12T09:04:00.000-06:00

a cold draft wafts through the house as I think of you
sitting in your isolated retreat
scraps of paper strewn
verses penned by the insistant muse that keeps you going

you lived in Greece for a while
in some white-washed home
arches for doorways
with blue table
I saw pictures in a songbook
and I learned all your songs
trying to pick the guitar just like you
singing Suzanne with my cousin having no idea what it meant
but loving the language of tea and oranges

your hair was black then
your voice versatile subtle
and you wrote of love for Marianne and Suzanne
but it was more than that
because it held me in trance
the love was spiritual
Suzanne was also a church
church of body----mind------heart-----soul

and you kept going
intertwined hearts making a star of David
your ultimate symbol
and yet you also struggled with the coldness in the house
a cold and broken halleluiah
------- worth singing but fraught with middle age

and then came the mountaintop
the time for introspection
for holiness as
hair became grey
topped by a hat
and voice dropped to the depths
the basis of everything

and you showed yourself
on stage
vulnerable
praying
flying above all the others in your depth

and always like a chilled house you
presenced my life
dis/comforting like a famous
blue
raincoat

Mendelssohn

2012-02-11T11:00:00.000-06:00

you run out to greet him
forgetting your coat in the
snow crunching cold

“I’ve been waiting for you,” you say
his frosty sideburns quiver as he smiles
and heads to the warmth of the house
rubbing hands together as he sits and waits for his tea

That’s a beautiful flower he says as he notices
the amaryllis on the table
I love flowers looking closely
the extraordinary colours and shapes

sipping, he notices your photo albums
may I look he says

you hand him a few
they are family shots of your kids mostly

he examines each carefully
noticing eager faces in the pictures
the obvious love in the eyes
the natural smiles
the busy atmosphere

treasure this
he says
such harmonic loving beauty

and you nod in the warmth of
your status so described

winter loosens grip

2012-02-10T10:53:00.000-06:00

white undulations still dominate landscape
in the sub-zero prairie outdoors
but little semi-tones of change
whisper that winter is withering away for another year

sun staying longer in early evening
ahh dusk
rising earlier
bright morning
and rice flakes of warmth peel on a clear blue day

the ides of February approaches
with foolish fantastic thoughts of
roses bought
wrapped
and delivered to worthy waiting arms
followed by kisses

red lips meeting in anticipation

of spring!

Lynette's hugs

2012-02-09T11:29:00.000-06:00

they started in her toes
crunching in a ball
-------she loved finding lint between those pudgy toes
and moved up those ferociously strong legs
scissoring my waist
-------legs that could bend any which way
-------and became pistons with skates leaping and twirling
-------in phrased figures
her body glued to mine in unflinching love
-------small but filled with giggles and sweet sweet summer
and then the arms around the neck vice-like
that wouldn’t let go as if love was an endurance contest
-------with perfect hands that can do anything they want

finally head buried in neck
fine hair tickling
thought forgotten in this wild explosion of pure affection

treatments (water poem VI)

2012-02-08T10:11:00.000-06:00

like thousands of others
I have this device under my skin
right under my collarbone
connected to my vein fanning out to entire body

for eight months
I’ve gone to have a needle stuck into the
round valve
through the skin

and bags of water turned into chemical
have dripped their shaded liquid
through my veins
to every part of my fragile flesh

and now it’s over
done
finished
vessels empty

for now

water of renewal has been poured

the device stays though
-------just in case

Elegy (Blair Green 1978 - 1998)

2012-02-07T11:00:00.001-06:00

forever the golden boy
the sun’s glow framing
blonde hair and
shining face
walking from barn to house

soft voice
polite
capable
patient
unforgettably kind

a life cut so short
so much potent portent
unrealised

and yet there he stands facing us
golden
leaning on railing
with that challenge on his chiselled countenance

remember me
remember others
remember

Berlioz

2012-02-06T10:05:00.000-06:00

(dedicated to R. Krahn)

he walks slowly so you meet him
on the driveway
you say, “you were my first -
kinda like the first time you really notice a girl”

he just scowls
his shock of wild long hair and sideburns
long hooked nose
giving him that insane wildness

we enter the house and he sits waiting for
his glass of red

small talk in quiet tones escalates into
near shouting
as he downs his wine
(which you fill again and again)

he passions about integration
boxes don’t suit him well
he gesticulates a large circle
almost singing his words

EVERYTHING can fit into the circle
he says
and if not
make the circle larger

exclusion hurts his wild head

never forget to think of everything
otherwise you truly are not
living or growing

and you understand why he was your first

four days of hoar frost

2012-02-05T09:19:00.002-06:00

white crystals clinging
branches heavy with beauty
a midwinter gift

cancer fog

2012-02-04T12:27:00.000-06:00

descending like dust from a demolition
and hanging in the psyche
covering
liming limbs with piano cadence crystals
limiting sight to
only what is directly ahead or behind

we continue
almost blind

to stop is to invite disaster
to go back is just a fantasy
and so we move forward cautiously
inching our way towards
future fate

the soft white winter counterpoint
providing measure by measure of hope

Benny (Goodman)

2012-02-03T13:05:00.000-06:00

with hair parted on the side and slicked back
wire rims framing intense eyes
he stays in the driver’s seat and motions for you to join him in his
immaculate black cadillac

he wants to drive where it’s all happening
so you direct him through the city places and
he talks about how people are so mesmerizing
some just lazing around all day
and others can’t stop moving/doing
he says the trick is to get things done
but feel like the guy relaxing on his front steps

it’s all in the attitude…
and in the practice
and a smile finally breaks out

and it’s only then that you notice the cat
lounging in the back seat
and you begin to get the hang of it

februum (Water Poem V)

2012-02-02T10:49:00.001-06:00

I can see you now

you’ve just had that shot of vodka and
sat in sweating sauna at 97 degrees
inhaling pine scent poured over red hot rocks
even breathing hurts

in mid-air leaping off the dock
about to hit cold black lake water
so refreshing and soul cleansing

but before the splash
I imagine this fleeting thought ripples
why this ritual right now?
is it pure fun or something deeper?
pure depth?

and you climb out to make it
a third time – all things three
it seems

these thoughts on a hoar frost
day - the first of February
black branches whitened
into crystal miracle

Amaryllis II

2012-02-01T12:15:00.000-06:00

Oh thou surprisingly pink crown of petals
on thick green carriage makes my wounded
heart drown in delight and wonder at thy courage
to bloom on mundane kitchen table in winter’s
monochromatic middle tiny veins of green and
white intermingle on petals pointed and bunched
like a riddle you were supposed to be red – vivid,
bold or so the accompanying papers said but you
defied the genetic code and decided to emerge pink
instead and so my submerged heart emerges to
celebrate the wonder of counter surges

our love

2012-01-31T10:19:00.002-06:00

this is how it works
my cold chest to her warm back
arm round waist – hold hands

Papa Haydn

2012-01-30T10:01:00.000-06:00

he is a bit stooped
as he walks up your snowy walk
using his cane
white beard starting to form icicles

“reminds me of the Alps”
he says
as he enters your warm house
unwraps tartan scarf removes woolen coat

he is old by now
but you wouldn’t be able to tell looking
into aqua blue eyes
clear and shining

very polite and proper
he sits and drinks some coffee
with his cake
china tinkling with a slight shake of hand

he wants to know about the structure of your house
how it was built
dimentions
special features
and he smiles as you tell him of
bay windows and the three season sunroom

in fact
the smile never leaves his face
as he points his wizened finger towards the window
and says again
“reminds me of the alps”
and you smile back
thinking alpine thoughts on the wintry prairie

Crete (Water Poem IV)

2012-01-29T17:07:00.000-06:00

I remember that picture
the day I lost my wallet in the sea

but at that moment
standing knee deep in the astonishingly warm salty waves
sand covering feet
arms spread wide
body bent backward
eyes up to the ancient blue sky of Crete
I feel the double warmth of sun on face
and water on legs
and the strands of wire-like
worry around heart
release

this sea
so full of recorded history
myth and memory
is just/still blue water rolling up on shore

and I am one man/speck in the
panoply of the ages

but still
as I lie back and let the waves rock me like driftwood
the sky a greek quilt
sun scorching and sea bath warm
I create a healing
sacred
memory
to last a lifetime

writing it down (part II)

2012-01-28T10:34:00.000-06:00

sun stabs/invades little room
in the middle of the hall second floor
patients waking up noisily say it is Saturday

but here time is lost in the sea of grief
waiting for the next breath
our vigil continues

Mom goes home to clean up
he seems more still----peaceful
talk turns to funeral plans

we take our turns going home
Winnipeg world seems too normal
in our static lives

question hangs in air
is nothing more to be done?
now it is just the waiting and solemn leave-taking

I go home for Saturday night
bed too comfortable
for this jagged time

early Sunday drive back
through snow and tears
others can take a break

nothing changes in the room
can he be weaker?
fighting for every breath

hymns play in background
mom and I on either side of bed
fatigue and sadness bear her up

it seems he asks for water a last time
we brush his lips with the sponge
Lieber Vater hoch im himmel rings through small speakers

breathing slows down long pauses
we both stand and wait
as he breathes out his last

I look to see my mother
alone-----now-----bereft
his spirit gone

leaving body cold

writing it down (Part I)

2012-01-27T10:53:00.000-06:00

friday evening ringing telephone:
“dad’s not well
this could be it”

stomach stops normal function
driving winter highway in silence
the heater so loud we turn it down
this is not the usual weekend visit
------- reading--------crossword--------supper

the room is different
dad is not tilted in his usual chair
---------bed in center
thatch of white hair against pillow
breathing so loud
so horrible
mom is lost in this tiny space
nothing to do

cousins gather
chatter forces normalcy
but the vigil has begun

what else to do but sing
hymns travel down donwood hallways
young voices carry older tears along the wavering melodies

arrangements made for night
mom stays and we take turns
cramping into chairs
distracted minds rest against metal
rattled breathing continues even after pauses
it could be any time
but each time the next breath forces into lungs

life force – a fearful thing

new cat

2012-01-26T09:50:00.001-06:00

play
pounce
leap

scamper
chase your tail
paw the pencil
------under piano

rub against leg
purr for a hand
stretch out and sleep

where did you come from?
waiting at our door in snowy starvation
thinking: here’s a home for me

now here
playing hunter
in our hardwood/carpet forest

we watch and smile
at life so sung

chemotherapy III

2012-01-25T11:08:00.002-06:00

I’m going eight rounds with this bruiser

he hits you in the legs
the gut
the hands
the feet
the head
the mouth
the teeth

what do I do?
do I fight back?

I sit there and take it
rope-a-dope

until he’s done his worst
and then I’ll struggle up off the mat
first on all fours
then stand up
one leg at a time
wipe the blood off my knuckles

then

kick away the tubes and bags
and stride into street
still standing
stronger

Hagar (Water Poem III)

2012-01-24T10:18:00.000-06:00

stone most of her life
a cup of clear water
held in her own hands
there… there…
mother words from someone who couldn’t mother

this before her death

servant Hagar
cast out into desert
with just a skin of water
separates her thirsting boy---------from her
and
turns away
not a mother

a well appears and
turns everything around
another nation born

even the stubborn non-mother
receives water

and drinks the elixir of grace

I fill my cats’ water dishes
there… there…

time

2012-01-23T10:11:00.000-06:00

for most
it seems an ever-growing box to fill with
randomness
whatever comes along
a visit here
an affair there
a trip maybe
marriage family friends
jobs or career
a pastiche of things that happen
to them
--------dreams are for later

For some
it seems to keep shrinking
and it gets filled
frantically
a last dream trip
make relationships count
leave something lasting behind
quit the mundane and fulfill a dream
help people

For all
it is finite
definite
just don’t know how big
every day an opportunity
to fill with meaning
with something lasting
to appreciate a moment
a kiss
----a sound
---------a snowflake
--------------a gift
to try to love
everyone
always

amaryllis

2012-01-22T06:55:00.000-06:00

there’s something serendipitous about a plant
growing straight up in the middle of winter
sitting in its snow white pot on the kitchen table
while the deathly cold grips everything outside

a quarter of an inch taller each day
the thick green stalk points upwards
to the ceiling
the sky
the harmony of the heavens

flower bud cradles the top
it’s almost ready to open
like a baby’s eyes in the morning
into passionate red petals

a complete flower sparkling
ready to finally take its place in
the pantheon of plants

good friend - good man

2012-01-21T10:10:00.001-06:00

I climb into SUV
a welcome fluttering feeling
pervades despite the frigid air

easy banter on the way
he listens carefully
and we chuckle old jokes

we enter parking garage
he kibitzes with the attendant
a break in his day

restaurant is packed
but undeterred we climb stairs
and sidle to the bar

he asks the dark haired waitress
about her day she smiles and he
gains her guarded trust

we order food without a table
and eat standing chatting about
our divergent lives after a common history

the arena is humming
he knows people and stops to chat
comfort like a fleece blanket surrounds
and we head to watch the game

he drives an extra forty minutes
to take me home
but the fluttering wings of friendship
make it ok

Bill Evans

2012-01-20T10:02:00.000-06:00

unlit cigarette dangles precariously
from corner of mouth
as he steps inside
immaculate black suit
slicked back hair

he asks to see your home and
you do the usual tour
but he wants to see everything
even the closets
he likes to go where no one has been before

you offer him coffee
he likes it black but sweet
and when the brew is ready he begins to chuckle
belying the serious horn-rimmed eyes

he finds amusement in the little things of living
the way a rabbit tracks across a new layer of snow
the way the smell of fresh-baked cinnamon buns pervades
the way people make connections even though they are very different
the way that one cup of coffee is never enough
the way a cat sleeps on the back rest of a blue leather couch
the way closets hide secrets

he sips his last and gets up to leave
cigarette still unlit
still dangling
with a shy smile
he strides out and you follow his dignified form
but you know
you know

Water Poem II

2012-01-19T11:44:00.001-06:00

I slowly slip into the warm water of worship
enjoying the sensation of being enveloped in
buoyant heat

I lie back and let the familiar clearness
support me as I rest my head on the solid
porcelain

my mind wanders to thoughts of thankful
love and grace as the water laps around me
like the thin pages of an old bible

the dripping tap and sundry house sounds
create a song of comfort and challenge
that echoes the brain

I step out refreshed
clean
dry off
ready to face what comes with
faith
-----joy
---------love
--------------peace

cold winter morning

2012-01-18T10:04:00.000-06:00

our new cat skittles around the house attacking or running from
ghosts as I walk around determinedly in my housecoat lifting small
barbells to get back some of my strength outside the cold crackles
looking harmless and peaceful in the winter sun as it glints the white
white snow my hands cold as I write this the furnace still chugging
mightily to warm the house after a cold night renaissance music
pours gently out of the speaker like pure golden honey soothing a
restless mind and I notice the other speaker is silent so I move the
couch to discover the wire disconnected probably because of our new cat
well at least there’s something practical to do besides curing writer’s block

four pets - four haiku

2012-01-17T09:48:00.000-06:00

Cassie

tail wagging at door
brings you a gift – shoe, pine-cone
small dog, big body

Bailey

wet feet from fresh snow
tiny mouth gnaws at new bone
stays for short cuddle

Henry

loud crow-like meow
quick to purr with friendly scratch
shy paw sometimes alights

Cleo

Freud would have field day
she needs you but doesn’t show
softest fur in world

like pictures

2012-01-16T10:02:00.000-06:00

“Kinder wie die Bilder”
Children like pictures

my Oma Niebuhr said this often
in her home on Notre Dame
as we tumbled on her floor or argued at her kitchen table
game pieces precisely placed

usually in winter
with mesmerizing flakes
coming down
covering roads and sidewalks
making shoes and tires slip and skid

never knew what she meant
compliment
or reprimand?

She loved pictures though
made us take them at every gathering
and she was usually front and center

the pictures give a portrait of a strong woman
she’d lost…
-------husband
-------------home
-----------------children
endured
-------war
-------------famine
------------------migration
-------------------------poverty

but she delighted our presence
giving us stale chocolate
taking mental pictures
of fleeting happy times
like melting snow on a Sunday afternoon

Bob Dylan

2012-01-15T16:32:00.002-06:00

it’s always been the hair
dark
wild
unruly
curly mass
growing/going
in all directions

everything else changed
music
themes
style
mood
faith
voice

but the genius
tangled torrent
from the head stays constant
and we watch and listen
rapt

Dvorak

2012-01-14T11:13:00.000-06:00

he’s on the cusp of something
you can tell by the way he rocks on
the balls of his feet
standing in your doorway

he’s wearing an off-white suit
and his curls combed back
hefty beard sending waves of confidence
he finally comes in
he asks for a sharp pencil
and thick paper
and patiently waits

then begins drawing

seems to unleash ideas with a pencil in hand
the doodles depict rivers and trees and sky
but his words go further
speaking of beauty broken up by
flashes of reality like
a river corrupted
a diseased tree
a clouded sky

he’s not sure how to say it
and you’re not sure you understand
but there on the cusp
you catch his bearded meteoric mood

winter

2012-01-13T07:00:00.000-06:00

I hate winter
the way the warring wind
seeps warmth from your
cheeks
ears
fingertips

makes tears fall from eyes
freezing to cheek
as I cross Tache to get to car
a semi-permanent record

creates fissures in our paved psyches
opening up our wounds to the world
red gaping incisions
that never quite heal

through a window from a warm house
there is beauty
pristine powder snow
pale blue sky

but it is illusion only as
the death of winter takes over all

Water Poem I

2012-01-12T12:40:00.001-06:00

a moment of reflection
by the water
river?
lake?
sea?

weeping by the waters of captivity
of slavery and asked for a song

songs go with water
flowing
------- undulating
---------------calming
--------------------rhythmic waves lapping
life-giving

In the end they sing a prayer
dipping in the waters of humility and
worthiness

Lynette's strings

2012-01-11T09:32:00.000-06:00

yellow and soft cotton
tied her bumper pad to the crib
and she slept as they entwined between
pudgy fingers

moving to a bed
we cut off the strings
sewed them to her pillow
losing them would unleash storm
from tiny body

we had extras just in case

before long she carried them everywhere
along with toys dolls stuffed animals

displayed proudly as
“STRING!”

but at night they once again
gained importance as they wound
around her toddler fingers just as
her unique spirit
wound around our hearts

Dad's desk

2012-01-10T08:37:00.000-06:00

stately sitting in the home office
dignified
work place
tannish brown heaviness
large surface
--------covered with papers, documents
crossword puzzles, typewriter
a pen set on the end
drawers filled with tax papers, pens, records, letters
he loved his pens

on top of everything
the latest project
------- Sunday school lesson
------- editorial
------- translation
------- radio show

unspoken rule: don’t move anything

when Mom and Dad moved
it came to me
had to unscrew the solid heavy top
to fit it down the stairs

and now it is a part of him that is a part of me
stately supporting my iMac

epiphany

2012-01-09T09:30:00.000-06:00

three – it had to be three

three kings
wise men
astronomers
astrologers
magi

from the east apparently

followed a star
was it moving?
it showed an exact location?

farfetched it seems

but there is much to learn from legend

from the gifts
-------precious metal
------- rare fragrance
------- medicinal tree resin
from the worship
from the Herod encounter
--------and the warning
from the bright star symbol
------- new light is born
from the unquestioned following

from the hope that keeps one dusty foot moving
in front of the other

were they real?
does it matter?

insight times three

northern winter sunset

2012-01-08T07:48:00.000-06:00

it’s early
but it’s getting dark anyway
half sun sending orange light
across the flat red river valley
we drive the highway south

sometimes trees get in the way
but then the bright brilliance
penetrates again

too warm for sundogs
but orange reflections
linger in winter blue sky

If we drove southwest
how fast would we have to go to keep up with
the burning brightness?
navigating the curve of the earth
in this almost snowless prairie wilderness

the beauty only lasts a few minutes
and then night descends like a
thin blanket
on our lonely and silent thoughts

warm corner (Warmen)

2012-01-07T10:01:00.000-06:00

we are in our old house in Gretna
a visit with old friends
and I look through a doorway

a boy four or five
short blond hair
sits in corner enclave
where comforting warm air blows
out of a register on the wall

this is his spot
no flames or burning wood to watch
just white walls and
mum working in kitchen

he has a friend though
he lives here
in this spot always
they play and talk in quiet whispers
telling secrets only they know about
being so grown-up

the whispers fly up through the register
and are lost in the ducts of the house
you can’t go back and hear them
even though parts of the boy still linger
in that enclave

Dizzy

2012-01-06T11:59:00.001-06:00

he walks up your sidewalk
silver suit glinting sunlight in the shirtsleeved afternoon

you shake his powerful hand looking through black rims to see eyes dancing

he starts the conversation
letting you respond with your ideas
but he flits from one topic to the next
his body never still
by the time you are inside, you’ve covered

how different colours should mix more
how life is a precious box – get everything in that you can
how new words are needed to say new things
how we should celebrate the uniqueness of every leaf
on every tree

and he keeps going
---------at the speed of light
every word a clear resonant dart in your ear

and you succumb to the quicksilver mood

St. Joseph Wind Farm

2012-01-05T08:27:00.000-06:00

they rise up white wings
stately turn in prairie wind
warm winter thoughts rise

family birthday dinner

2012-01-04T08:22:00.000-06:00

memories buzz around like flies around a table of food in our backyard
we sit around small table at Maxine’s I look at each one seeing
my version of who they are/were dark sweatered boy/man
tousled toque hair confidently deciding each order smiling
blonde with overwhelming scarf of energy round eyed
girl watching all with poise and pride newly necklaced
wife/mother one year older singing songs of love
in her eyes
sometimes we notice the cloud of flies and
take a swipe but other times we are too
busy inviting more to join
the rest

jigsaw

2012-01-03T10:50:00.000-06:00

two heads
mother daughter
bend over
oblivious

pieces litter the table in apparent chaos
edge is complete
creating a frame within which to work
one thousand pressed paper partial pictures
to try to fit together into coherent whole

it’s hard
this fitting together of the chaotic
demanding
patience---------perseverance---------problem solving
but becomes so much easier
with two bright faces
mother and daughter

Janus

2012-01-02T10:59:00.001-06:00

snow swirls furiously
in January wind

looking with two sets of eyes
backward and forward
and both yards fill with strata of
flaky
time

what does a year of
tests
-----diagnosis
---------------more tests
--------------------------waiting
-----------------------------------surgeries
sickness
----------diminishment
-------------------------treatment
------------------------------------recovery
----------------------------------------------setbacks
constant worry

mean?

the back garage door bangs open and closed on creaky hinges

I go out through the front door to fix it
shutting it and
move forward on a new layer of snow

portzeltje (new year’s fritters)

2012-01-01T10:40:00.001-06:00

oh you pocket of warmth and
promise
packed with raisins
of popping squishiness
covered or dipped in sugary white

come to my waiting mouth
and I will bite
teeth meeting little resistance on the crisp
outer shell
to get to the hopeful doughy center of
a new year

2011-12-26T08:45:00.002-06:00

Time for a short break. Back in January.

Simeon

2011-12-25T08:27:00.000-06:00

a Hebrew dedication like any other
circumcision
blood
blessing
naming

Jesus Christ
----------as per angelic instruction

and then an old man approaches
clear eyes
soft voice
wrinkled strong hands

takes crying squirming baby from astonished mother mary
and all becomes quiet as a spirit descends
and gives the song to bless the one
who extended his sight to see the One

as we too may encounter him at any
time
in any
one
at any
place
and may depart in peace
extending the song

Gloria In Excelsis Deo

2011-12-24T06:23:00.001-06:00

they all tried their best to approximate angelic gloria

Vivaldi
punching out the word like a bullet to the heart
Palestrina
soothing the hillside with intertwining harmonies
Handel
exploding with high heavenly voices
Bach
breaking up the word into an instrumental dance
Mozart
simply letting the voices sing the sonorous song of praise
Beethoven
rushing upwards to a joyful complexity of rhythm and wall of sound

So many others

and then they struggle with the next line
angels proclaiming

Et in terra pax

not in heaven
not in our individual psyches
not even in our congregations
but on
--------------earth

how do we sing that?

with irony?
with hope?
with assurance?
with silence?

look at the newborn face of the child
the only true antidote to hate

and peace on
earth
may yet descend
on dove-like angel wings

stopping for me (apologies to e.d.)

2011-12-23T07:04:00.000-06:00

there’s a grey horse outside
stamping and snorting
white steam nostrils

he’s attached to a dark covered sleigh (this is not jingle bells)
gleaming in the moon’s glow

my coat awaits as I get the urge
but it would be a loud and grating ride
as there is little snow and we would be
travelling on gravel and pavement and grass

where would we travel
I wonder
on this strange and singular journey?

the horse waits----------impatient

but I prefer the beauties of here and now
green eyes of my love
burgeoning lives of my children
good will of
friends
-------siblings
---------------church

and just like that
he moves along, sleigh scraping
behind
empty

Dad at Christmas

2011-12-22T07:23:00.000-06:00

his favourite carol was Good King Wenceslas
and he liked to sing all 8 verses knowing them by heart
maybe it was the way the kindly monarch
presided over his grounds and led by example

and if we sang Joy to the World before the meal
he would try to sing the second verse as well
no hymn truly complete without all the verses

this was when he was older

he is strangely absent from my earlier
memories of Christmas
a vague smiling presence as gifts and play
took over
but at church or gathering
he usually gave a talk or
sermon at some point
pointing with that thick finger at the meanings of the
day

in later years this was reduced to reading Luke 2
“and a decree went out”

He made sure it was read and then smiled with pride
at his children and grandchildren as they performed and then
dutifully went to receive his and Mom’s blessing

sometimes he took out his harmonica
assuredly tapped it on his calloused palm
and played a hymn
trembling right hand
creating vibrato

He wasn’t much for receiving presents
gadgets and ties and sweaters held little interest for him
dropping to the floor beside him

but he usually got a book or two
and these he examined tenderly
feeling the edges of the pages with fingertips
turning it around in his hands
opening to a random page and beginning to read
presiding over the words with interest and
the love of learning something new

as he quietly presided over
a family gathered
to celebrate the Gift
with interest and love

not trees

2011-12-21T10:27:00.000-06:00

the sap in winter
retreats to the core
or so I imagine
no expression of life or feeling
bare sticks waver in winter wind

we are not trees
as we sing our longing
for life and light
in this winter world
often with a catch in our throat
reaching out for each other
with unwavering love
wind freezing our tears

Jonathan Elias

2011-12-20T10:15:00.000-06:00

he’s wearing a brimmed hat
black curls emerge beneath
he hasn’t shaved yet today
not particularly prayerful

but his dark eyes tell you
something serious is going on

he wants to take you far away
------- and so you get on his traveller
-------------- and propeller through
--------------time--------------space
across border lines
crossing distant seas

when you finally stop
he points and you see it

the strange beauty emerges like a multi-coloured diamond in a desert

and you ask where this is

he says nothing
pointing at his head under that hat

and you think
sometime
--------somewhere
------------------somehow

this prayer will be answered

Advent Poem IV

2011-12-19T10:15:00.000-06:00

lighting a fourth candle means
nearness

when the kids were all eager hands and eyes
there were four songs before we could eat

it was tradition
o come
------what child
--------------angels
---------------------joy to

each candle lit in turn
inside the little green
Christmas tree-shaped holder
the first candle already down to a nub

a clamber ensued
whose turn to blow them out

the fourth candle meant nearness
as we sang our songs with
bow tied hearts

Song of the Church

2011-12-18T07:45:00.002-06:00

Emmanuel…
come
we call

our voices turned inward
around outside wall

candles in hand

honey voices dripping harmony

where is the spilling over into the street
where are the bells calling those who long
where are the carolers in their scarves

when we magnify Emmanuel in the world?

orange moon

2011-12-17T07:49:00.000-06:00

mundane prairie winter
not much snow

and then through distant trees
the moon appears
like a slice of Christmas orange

it hangs horizon
like a brilliant orange bowl
floating the sky
holding all things fanciful and fantastic

for this is Manitoba in winter
sometimes you see northern lights
but this miraculous tangerine surprise?

I reach out and fingertip the soft lunar edges
my thin arms stretched through the dark December night
and hear the beating of my living heart

Satchmo

2011-12-16T10:02:00.000-06:00

cold snow flakes
drift
around yard
as he walks up the drive

he’s underdressed
and incongruous this rural north
but his white teeth shine
in that familiar smile
when he knocks rhythmically on your door

everything seems so easy
from his
pin-stripes and knife creases
to his casual two-handed shake

and you ask him
------- hasn’t it been hard?

you know what’s hard?
not doin’ what I do

as he describes a large circle
--------could it be a heart
with his arms

and he goes on for a while
------- not too long
about the rhythm of joy
the wonder of play
the smile of peace

not in those words of course
but you get the drift!

tree

2011-12-15T12:13:00.000-06:00

rising from simple base
to angeled tip (not angled)
covered in coloured mini stars
randomed with
wooden stars
-------paper scrolls
----------------knitted mailboxes
-------------------------crystal figures
---------------------------------fragile balls of colour
27 years of collecting
why?

because…
------- because…
-----------------because…
well…

can you see
it busts through the ceiling, the window, the eyes
and exists all
alone
in all its prickly greenness
as a
----------force of fierce beauty

Advent Poem III

2011-12-14T12:06:00.000-06:00

we know it wasn’t December 25th
it wasn’t even bleak midwinter…
were there shepherds?

a lot of borrowed stories and myths
to piece together a story

shrouded---------shaded---------shadowed

O Magnum Mysterium

divine becoming flesh?

what are we stumblers in the 21st century
supposed to believe?

groping in the shadow of
Darwin
Einstein
Freud
Even Moltmann

but behind the shadows is light
shining on
a page open to Matthew 5

divine word become flesh
baby Christ

come Immanuel

Annele at the Piano

2011-12-13T10:40:00.000-06:00

a transcendent moment

her finger lingering
lovingly on the key
note hanging in the balance
serious black dress
intense eyes on music
body slightly swaying

the note takes on significance of
what came before and
what is to come

our gathered family held in tension
a simple church basement
so many stories
so many struggles
so much beauty

a slight lift and she releases the note
as a tear falls

the music goes on

Whitacre

2011-12-12T12:05:00.000-06:00

blonde hair cascading
he enters hesitantly
shyly
but with a smile

he speaks of this strange idea
that there is light in the world

after all the dark dark clouds
and violent thunderstorms

centuries of war
genocide
hunger

light that breaks through
like water in concrete crack
and can’t be stopped

light that shines through
the sympathy of eyes
the symphony of tears

light that shines eternally
from creator’s love

and you believe

Mary

2011-12-11T07:51:00.000-06:00

magnificat

to think that our souls
enlarge God
make greater
make more audible
let us see details
like a zoom lens or
a distance microphone
and bose speakers

boggles
astounds
seems impossible

but she was chosen
to bear
the shame
the weight
the pain
the Christ

the saviour
the way
the truth
the healer
the companion
the lamb

and we follow in our ways
singing her song
magnifying

in sickness

2011-12-10T10:18:00.001-06:00

ticking tips of clock-like knitting needles
accompany hospital sounds as we
wait
for IV fluids to do their thing

she is there
my girl---------beauty---------wife

listening------easy talk
making life life

a simple church in Saskatchewan prairie
sun slanting in window
piano playing Debussy

we walk aisle together
no giving away
we are each other’s

little did we know of
sickness and health
little did I know
of this woman
who makes her children stars
who teaches little ones to love
who makes our house a home
who knits for little ones in Africa
who cares and cares and cares and cares

chemotherapy II

2011-12-09T11:03:00.000-06:00

strangely quiet
except for nurses’ chatter
and the IV pumps purring
cat-like

hopeful sunlight pours in through side window
as I glance at the people in the chairs
all ages
--------all expressions
------------------all symptoms

hours pass like this
with the cats hissing poison
into blood system

the quietness oppresses
like waiting death
ready to pounce on the
next mouse

but the purring comforts
carry curative
curious companionship

Advent Poem 2

2011-12-08T20:17:00.000-06:00

thin layer of snow covers roofs
ready to melt and trickle into eaves
at the first sign of southern warmth

Santa’s sleigh won’t have much to land on
at this rate

but the sun is shining
tempering this cold day
in Manitoba
in early December

glinting lovely light off roofs
and brightening the snow-covered lawn
beside the shadow of dark trees

Romeo and Juliet

2011-12-07T14:42:00.000-06:00

a sonnet when they meet
perfection of form
--------perfection of love

or at least the best that people can do

white slip of a dress
--------jet black hair
waiting for consummation
completion of marriage
not knowing of the blood
boiling in the veins
dripping in the streets

a handshake when they die
perfection of gesture
------- perfection of commitment

or at least the best that people can do

brass

2011-12-06T11:17:00.000-06:00

surrounds pictures in a square or oval
dignifying
adding weight
legitimizing the mundane
even if it is only a snapshot
of baby on a beach

polished golden colour
shaped into
instruments of beauty
curled in on themselves leading to
mouthpiece where it all happens
the mundane vibration travels through

and a ridiculous sound transforms into
dignified
piercing
pure
power

a baby on a beach

Gorecki

2011-12-05T10:29:00.000-06:00

he comes to the door
covered in snow
shaking and stamping his boots

and beckons you outside
and you follow
------- bundled up

it’s not really that cold
but it’s winter here and you begin the trek

he takes his time
making new trails through the snowy
plains

everything is the same
but then the monotony becomes momentous
as you notice the tiny crystals in the snow

the small birds darting around
--------they stay for winter

the new snow inexorably
flitting down

the grey bright sky merging
--------snow on horizon

and you see the pain in his shoulders
his bowed head
his slow steady gait

and when he turns around to look at you
eyes
------- desparate
--------------------hope

John the Baptist

2011-12-04T18:39:00.000-06:00

locusts and honey
------------odd combination

most people love honey
most wouldn’t touch a locust

maybe most were like that with him
stangely attracted like Salome
but also repulsed

but they had to listen

repent
make straight
come to the waters

this scraggy man
undignified
no status
piercing eyes
booming voice
hailing the one to come

captured Herod’s attention
captured…

picture

2011-12-03T09:52:00.001-06:00

there’s this picture of me
we printed it up a while ago

I’m about ten or twelve and my blonde blonde hair falls straight past my ears
to the collar of my button up short-sleeved pink shirt

I’m sitting on the midsummer grass
most likely on our yard in Gretna

one leg is bent up and I’m resting my hands and chin on the knee
the other leg is tucked under

my black and white sneaker anchors my pose
as I stare into some unknown distance

I’m not exactly happy
my eyes rabbit-like, expecting something

I don’t remember being there or the picture being taken
I don’t even remember the shirt

but I remember the feeling
that apprehensive wondering – indefinable aloneness

that strikes a boy becoming man

oranges

2011-12-02T10:07:00.000-06:00

mandarin oranges wrapped in green paper
in a brown wooden bowl
on low table

I can’t indulge – too much fibre

A saxophone reverberates in a church
somewhere sometime
a little jazzy
a little eastern in style

this I hear through speakers in my living room
in a small prairie town
no cathedral here

just dirty, icy streets and
bare black trees
and a few boxy churches

the sax plays on gyrating with its own
echo echoing
oblivious to me
accompanied by voices
harmonizing heaven

just like a perfect round orange

hammered dulcimer

2011-12-01T10:17:00.000-06:00

the sound of winter

ping…

as the strings vibrate after
the strike of wooden hammer
reverberating the room with the clean cold feeling of
December

each string sounds in tandem with another
augmenting sound in sympathy
stretched taut across hand-crafted wooden trapezoid
amplifying and echoing around room

sometimes if the melody and harmonies arise just so
playing an age-old jig or reel or carol
a prayer goes up
pleading for warmth

in this cold cold world

lights

2011-11-30T10:39:00.000-06:00

I put up lights yesterday
clipping plastic to eavestrough
red bulbs dangling beside ladder
--------------hooking frustratingly

one clip won’t hold weight but fifty clips
--------------keeps them all in place
one helping the other

I found electrical current
to run through them all

shining in the darkness

Irma preaches

2011-11-29T10:15:00.000-06:00

reddish curl at cheekbone
accenting smile
in eyes
on mouth
in voice
in body language

open to the spirit
taking a silent breath

and

singing her song – God’s song
in that sing-songy voice

a song to inspire
and aspire to
to never tire of

listening to the song above
beneath
all other songs

and smiling
in our own responsive song

Advent Poem 1 - snowy morning

2011-11-28T10:19:00.002-06:00

white world emerges
------------out of messy November

flakes drift and cling desperately onto all surfaces
blessing and covering dark branches
------dirty streets
--------------------littered lawns
as we ponder another advent
symbolic
waiting
---------hoping
-----------------praying
--------------------------working
for a lovelier ------whiter world
and I stare at the reflection of snow filled window
on glass coffee table
beside pink knitted toque
bound for Kenya

Zechariah

2011-11-27T08:46:00.001-06:00

struck silent
--------dumb
----------------mute

he doubted

priestly pride
pulled out
rug-like

months of mouth holding in
wondrous words
--------------that soothe like raindrops or
--------------sting like blowing sand
until birth of beauteous boy and
voice returns

pride turned into
prophesy
------------praise
---------------------preparation
peace

Sarajevo

2011-11-24T10:18:00.003-06:00

a tangle of dark hair atop pale face looking for a smile from
a mother who is too anxious to give any thing the floor is cold
and people wear jackets all in one room - the whole family stuck
there - afraid to go out afraid of the shelling and the guns
two years old and never been outside - in one room all his
life - a life of fear of war and its carnage, a life of not knowing
sunshine or flowers or the beach or the park or grass or trees or

space

When will this end or doesn't it?

1993

the news

2011-11-23T16:46:00.000-06:00

white sheets soft still
blonde thatch of hair
eyes closed in peaceful sleep of
a child.
bed dwarfs the boy as he lies
arms relaxed--------- even

mother's hand grips railing
white knuckles showing as she
hears the words echo in the antiseptic room

1994

men of song

2011-11-22T09:25:00.000-06:00

blue shirts and ties
not uniform
but united
-------------standing together
one purpose
one aim
one direction
backdrop
-------------cross of shattered colours

sincere singing starts
eyes intent

all these men

men of law
men of medicine
men of families
men of business
men of classroom
men of numbers
men of God

the sound of integrity

May 2011

riverbank advent

2011-11-21T09:31:00.000-06:00

bare blackness of trees
skeletal branches
spying on half-frozen river
creeping along between
white banks

saying “so long” to November’s cold warmth
and looking forward
to what?

Ah…Christmas
dreaming white dreams
of soft snow salvation for
the world

once a year the carols come
peace on earth built into
society each December

lights cover trees and tinsel silvers
bare blackness but the waiting
goes on--------- past the 25th
for sureness deeper than
gifts under a tree

1986

Crucible

2011-11-18T09:06:00.000-06:00

cold air crackling light
life of
lung

clinging to shreds of
life
-----slipping -------away

scarf blocks face from
reality
walking white snow without
knowledge of

black center of
-------------------bullet
hung by hot
noose
of hate ambition

hanging
---------killing
-----------------death

1985

no visibility

2011-11-17T10:35:00.000-06:00

wind
--------searing streets
belt snow stinging
--------blinding
driving
----zero visibility

mind filled with
icy thoughts
------------blowing
cutting vision

people disappear in
---------------------haze
------------------------of
snow and wind

1989

from the choir loft

2011-11-16T09:48:00.000-06:00

portrait of sadness?

she----motionless in wheelchair
beside pew
white hair matches
white sweater draped over
shoulders
brows furrowed in attempt to
understand English words

he-----also with white head ---sitting
in pew beside her
eyes shine with tradition
stoic eyes
mind wandering past and present

no --- joy

for their hands
------old and spotted
------showing pain toil and
tenderness of younger years are
joined in love and trust

1983

through the window

2011-11-15T09:50:00.000-06:00

Wild pink rose
coastal
delicate and random
sings colour in
the green making
love to the countryside with
waves of warm
affection

Wild waves roar the
rocks on shore
beside
strong and
powerful shines rawness
on the scene, passionate
splashes of violent
love, there is

Completeness in the scene through
the windows of car feeling
roses and waves in
the world of our lives.

1986

moonsong

2011-11-14T09:01:00.002-06:00

a seed swelling with moisture beneath
black earth -----cold and clammy under the
round, full moon white bright - dimness
a life latent, before time
before counting
afraid
new
waiting for...
green cracking birth
filling our lives
singing our time
with fruit ripe and full
dripping over chin and fingers
as we bathe in the
light of the
moon.

1992

storm clouds

2011-11-13T18:26:00.001-06:00

when storm clouds gather
the spirit------dimming -
darking soul with
a lonely sunset

and
sad drops down like
piano blues in the
night

oh
let it fall
through throat and fingers
of feeling

and hear the flash of
the bright-----electric
voice of the
sky

1982

Your Love

2011-11-12T13:29:00.000-06:00

My heart breaks on
-----the bank of the Rhine

singing a rhapsody of
warm
--------laughing
----------------wine and
solid---- steady ------castles

recalling
--------your love

1984

Summer Jazz

2011-11-11T14:54:00.000-06:00

move
like summer cloud
wind shifting shape
across sunny sky

mix
like palette's painter
brush blurring colours
a new bright hue

shine
like advent candles
flames flickering finely
lighting dark December

create
like whale's high sonar
searching sea sound
new song

but move
fingers------feet
hands-------head
heart--------spirit

1980

down the path in back

2011-11-10T10:58:00.000-06:00

poetry talk
----ambling down path in back
----like hunters without guns
----brushing in warm grass of friendship
----shivering in the pleasure of the hunt

people talk
----I picked a stick off path and
----tore green bark off
----it shaped in two parts
----like a boomerang but
----under the bark
----parts grew together with
----sweet smell of green

poetry again
----reciting and recalling
----lines to love and live
----down the trodden, yet fresh path in back
----and the setting sun warmed

1981

G. Timothy - friend

2011-11-10T10:48:00.000-06:00

met your parents today
right there in Applebees
in the next booth

and I thought of those times
on Buckingham where
we watched a game or
melded minds
------------spock-like
------------in intense interrogary (if I can invent a word)
me captivated by subterranean
voice and deeper broader thoughts
that spread
like sci-fi tentacles
on the wings of a joke

the night was always chilly
when I got into my rust-covered omni
but I knew something that overcame cold
something about a friendship forged
with fearsome bonds

recalled in an afternoon encounter at
Applebees

Choir Tour (Umsiedler)

2011-11-09T11:25:00.000-06:00

A sea of
----------faces fills
church and we
sing

---We sing of love but
can't understand the wrath that
silences the tongue

---We sing of hope but
can't cry the desparation that
whitens the hair

---We sing of strength but
can't feel the pressure that
bends the back

---We sing of joy but
can't imagine the pain that
darkens the eyes

And yet we
--------------sing
for open ears and
thankful hearts and
bind through the
spirit

1984

Reflections

2011-11-09T10:58:00.000-06:00

Gaze the snowy moon
in the double pane of
Joy and Sadness and
see yourself in reflection

Window veils
real night of cold and dark
glimpsing moments of
restful memory

Moments mixed and
out of tune filled
with the hue of moonlight

1982

Luis' Office

2011-11-08T11:03:00.002-06:00

neat stacks of items on desk smile
at severe suit hanging in corner
------------just in case
-------------------waves at intense player lacing skates
he'll need his stick resting along wall
passing proudly to
------------old team confidently playing
in the six old arenas
----of NNHL
--------------beauty and tradition combined
a legacy handed down to rows and rows of
caps and gowns encircling thankful
hopeful eyes, looking out at a huge stylized
H
--hanging importantly beside little
girl's handprint poem, patiently
waiting to ring golden school bell
silently
--------steadily
-----------------standing in the corner of
a neat, carefully arranged desk

2006

Tears

2011-11-08T10:46:00.002-06:00

Tears tear the cheek
etching an ode to loneliness
that no one will read

Tears tear the cheek
of one alone
-------------and drop aimlessly
into the world of tears.

1981

Ode to Ruth B.

2011-11-08T10:43:00.000-06:00

A hand
---------offers popcorn and jelly beans
bringing hearts
buoying heart

A voice
----------full of softest feathers
filling spaces
making space

Eyes
------brim with waves of sun
lighting corners
braving corner

A soul
--------sings songs of freedom
awakening lives
feeling life

2001

Barry's Marathon

2011-11-08T10:40:00.001-06:00

lean, muscular legs carry
runner
along shoulder
pounding feet hit gravel as
rhythmic breath powers the
heart beating steady
------------and firm

piercing, steady eyes guide
teacher
through the maze of
questions, papers, laughs and tears as
confident words and gestures reflect a
heart of warmth
------------and light

moustached smile reveals
friend
creating strong bonds across
lines of fear and distrust as
an arrow-like spirit
reaches the target of
-------------love

2003

Carl Zach

2011-10-26T08:47:00.000-05:00

repeated bass line
of a classic song
------------standing firm alongside
buffets of melody and rhythm
usually centered --------harmonic but
sometimes jarring
sometimes fragmentary
----------broken

you have always been there
your mild smiling eyes
chuckling presence

a bouncing string of sincere vision

now mining depths of
double bass courage
in face of
panicked melody
of pain

leading
not following
entire orchestra
into faith-filled concerto of
agape

2011-09-23T08:24:00.000-05:00

Well, that does it. It's time for a break. I might start up again for Advent, so until then, feel free to peruse the collection.