Mother's Day - Looking Back

 I wrote this poem last year. Every year on Mother's Day I think about my Mother even though she's gone. She was my best friend and I miss her dearly.

Oh, Hello Mother 

For Mother’s Day 2020

It’s good you are not here

for you would worry. You’d call me 
every day
to ask me how I am and
if the girls were fine and
if grocery store was busy and
what was out of stock. You’d call me
every day
to make sure I was eating well and ask
when was Garry was coming home again and
if I’d seen the news about the prices going up and
what we had for dinner. You’d call me
every day
to tell me what movie you’d watched and
who you’d played cribbage with and 
how you enjoyed the visit to the gardens to 
see the tulips and rhododendrons in bloom. You’d call me
every day
because you’re bored, 
because you’re anxious,
because it’s all too much for you to handle.
It’s good you are not here to worry.

© May 2020

Being Brave Enough To Put Yourself Out There

 Imperfection–The Me I Love The Most

The words I wrote before are gone, copied to another file

for later times, for cloudy days. I start again to craft 

an image on this page, to present my thoughts as I go forward, 

to begin anew as if to reveal the book of everything I’ve done,

to shock reality within to come without a barrier, to flush

my wounds in private rooms inside my head. Alone I cry not,

but yell into the darkness, desire that you wrestle me into 

a caring warm embrace. Then I’ll begin again to heal.

© May 2021

Clematis in May

Spindly vines weave through the trellis,

year after year, taking over, erupting in

delicate buds of pink and white, that after sun

become a pride of petals, rotating as the light

scoots across the sky from east to west. Flowers

still pink and white emit joy until slivers of green

peak out, grow to leaves and hide the latticework

until autumn breaks forth and the cycle begins again.

© May 2021

NaPoWriMo 2021 is over

 

Shades of Blue

                Thanks to Cristy Watson for the workshop

 

The deepest oceans, darkest seas

Your expressive eyes staring at bridesmaids

The last shirt you wore to the office

Those berries we bought by the roadside

Aunt Amy’s house trim on McKinnon Street

The sky on that day I met you, alone

A feeling after watching Forest Gump

The colour of the sheets on the bed where you told me

A dog, a flower, and a kind of chair in Allan Gardens

Raspberry popsicles bought on a whim

Your handkerchief found in the bottom drawer

The suitcase where I packed all your clothes

Crescent Beach in April when the tide is high

My heart until I forgive you for leaving me alone

 

© August 2018 & April 2021

Ode to Uncle Betty’s Diner

 

So called American fare on a famous Canadian street,

patio dining for Sunday brunch before the crowds.

 

Always eggs benedict, smothered with hollandaise,

so involved in conversation, I ate much too fast.

 

Dawdled over a second cup in the bright summer sun.

Not sure when we’ll both get here again: I live out west,

Jane back home to Ottawa. Not even a photo to remember.

 

© April 2021

The Essence of BC

 

Wolf Deer Coyote

Bear Raven Frog

Beaver Orca Seal

 

Ridge Mountain Valley

Erratic Drumlin Valley

Island Desert Plains

 

River Creek Stream

Bay Inlet Hot-springs

Lake Ocean Narrows

 

Redwood Douglas-fir Spruce

Birch Hawthorn Arbutus

Cedar Jackpine Hemlock

 

Capital Cities Towns

Villages Communities Localities

Reserves Landings Crossroads

 

© April 2021

About the Middle of NaPoWriMo

 Almost April 15th, so I thought I'd post a few recent poems.

Canada

North to the arctic circle onto a vast expanse of empty
East to the fiddle, lobster, Barrett’s Privateers
South to a ribbon of population stripping the nation bare
West to sea wolves, spirit bears, the raven, the orca 

© April 2021

Limitations

Like a person,

boundaries are visible though easily hidden,

permeable as a rain drop,

rigid like carrot cake until you attack it with a fork,

soft as snow but easily disturbed,

showing age harshly.

If only a vacuum preserved life

instead of inviting death.

Like boundaries,

people are invisible like glass,

a paradox of openings you can see through at 3pm,

yet the rain will wash away reflections to break free

into a river of limitations by 10.

© April 2021

Ucluelet

Black rock—white foam
Yellow sun—turquoise ocean 
Rough bark—soft mosses
Gentle breezes—gale-force winds
Stoney bench at low tide—crashing swells at high
Acres of untouched cedars—encroaching new modern architecture 

Stolen ancestral lands—pricey satirical splendour
Forgotten First Nations—millionaire American customers
Sitka spruce at 96 m, 600 years old—cell phone tower at 60 m, 2 years old
Arrive filled with anxiety—leave bathed in tranquility

© April 2021

International Women's Day 2021

 

Why Only For Just One Day

                In Honour of International Women’s Day 2021 and for my Mother

 For you Mother, I will stand and fight for meaningful jobs. I will write to the Mayor, who I did not vote for, and tell him how I feel about his position on Indigenous land acknowledgement. I will write to the Premier, who I did vote for, and tell how I feel on his position on pipelines and dam projects and how he he’s been a bad dad for not considering his children’s future and what his position will leave for his grandchildren’s livelihood. I will write to the Prime Minister and talk about how his memory is faulty and ours is not, and that he promised us a proportional representative government, then went back on his word and did what his friends wanted. I will buy local fruits and vegetables from women-run groceries and baked goods from small business in my neighbourhood. I will read women’s stories and pass on women’s ideas on this day and every day onwards. Because it seems that I need to ‘raise my game’ so that all other women will also. For you Mother, I will write down these words as you did not feel you could voice your opinion yourself. For you Mother, I will continue to write my words and yours tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that and ...

 

© March 2021

A new year, new behaviours

 In Future

For Helen

Now that I have your attention

(in a chair, hands bound, mouth gagged)

I can discuss the way forward

(not really a discussion, more of a lecture)

In future, you will stop what you’re doing when I speak to you 

(and sit quietly)

You will not interrupt, you will not look at your phone 

(which I have hidden in the library on the first floor)

When I have finished talking, you will be allowed to ask one question

(maybe two)(it really depends on my mood)

After my answer, I will depart, leaving you to contemplate your existence

(of course, I will be back at some point to untie you)( it really depends on my mood)

Firstly, dirty dishes, washing-up, and running the dishwasher

© January 2021