Attempting (again) to Restart

Somehow I got interrupted in my restart to writing, so I will try again.

Bury the leg

for Hallie, may we all see you dance in heaven

along with the pain,

hate and jealously.

I took it off my body, threw it

into a freezer (beside the pizza

pops). It wasn't diseased,

I just wanted to. Nobody cried, but

a laugh at my joke 'I can't use a hand,

but a leg would be good' drove the salesclerk away

to her change room. She stayed, clothed in fear; we

left to drink beer. Grandpa built a coffin, sister sang a tune,

friends carried it over the sorrow, mom whispered a silent

prayer for my sanity (losing the other could happen,

doctors say). Don't cry; it's not alone; I left it picture

to know me by.

No more dancing, no more running and jumping

for joy; only brisk morning strolls with my crutches,

and sometimes, I think about Scooter

missing out on this glorious sunrise today. And I cry.

[©1999]

Saturday's Post

It's the weekend and I can spend some time mulling over words. Gems unbidden, jewels, unrequested.

Reviving the Bay

Cold crashing splashes wash dry black mud, hiding

smoothed stones

and edible quahogs.

No buried treasure of gold sovereigns or pop cans or

milk bottles

for return appear.

Incessant destruction of towering cliffs

reveal the ancient sages

and distressing winds.

A solitary harbour seal wanders in from Atlantic waters

seeking shelter from forceful advances

and perhaps a chance to sleep.

© 1999 Surrey, BC

Sunday's Post

Breathe, remain calm. Breathe in, breathe out.

Tai Chi

delicate movements

arms sweep by

weight transfers

back to front

one hundred and five

classical yang

raise

hands

step

out

stork cools its wings

brush left knee

relax as your chi flows

flows up your spine

flows through your arms

flows as you pass it on

flows

flows

flows

flows

flows

© 2010

I found something I wrote last November 11th.

In Flanders

Fields, mostly green, dotted with red

As far as the eye can see

As far as a wounded man can walk in a day

Think back to days of WWI

Think back to John and his friend Alexis

Search for the patch of land when many lives were lost

Search for the memories they want to forget

Rows of crosses mark their final rest

Rows of soldiers fall, gently through the fields of grass

Hear the shots

Hear the cries

See the pain

See the futility of all this bloodshed

Of all this waste of youth

Of all this waste of generations

Fields, mostly red, remind us of the past

And pass the torch along

© 2010 Surrey, BC

It's been too long. But I'm back.

John MacRae

Row by row,
peace by peace,
Poppies grow in fields
where men had died before.

Now snakes wriggle through short grass.

Don't tell the men below
of what occurs above.
Don't tell the world above.
Let peace find itself.

[Copyight 1999]

Time Off

I'm on holiday now until January 5th. Now the muse can let go her words.

Long Since

Long since the world was
a young girl in a long blue gown;

now harsh and peevish fingers thrust
out at her mind.

Then beat it to death by balloons.
Slowly, courageously spent,

the girl regains her former grace;
rebirth brings its own reward.

[© 1998]


Along the Shores of Georgian Bay, Ontario

The wind that blows
and the snow it throws
carve glyphs

in the cold rock scree.
Imprisoned they are
for millions of years

relaying their tales
of sleet and rain and hail.
Only a select few tilting

fir soldiers remain
on duty watch, till
the next barrage commences.

[© 1998]



Clear Night - Wolves

Still
abstract.
Dark pack, canis lupus,
screened by slender strokes of twenty
feeble saplings, show no fear, but look at
you
directly,
sense presence, but cannot make you out,
show respect to an equal member.
Now they know,

they melt away.

[© 2000]