April 21, 2008 at 7:47 am (Jumbled Jabbering, Poetry)
beginning and end
Of every moment
Someone – ought
to kiss that woman
I was sitting with a friend, enjoying a glass of wine, when an older gentleman reached over and passed me a light blue sticky note. This is what it read. How delightful!
Compare that with the other fellow.
October 16, 2007 at 5:00 am (Poetry)
The sound of your deep voice
Producing smiles everywhere around you
We looked up to you
Didn’t you know?
The weight of your words
Didn’t you see?
Wisdom without flaunting it
Making people feel
All along, YOU were these things to everyone who knew you.
And still are.
Don’t you know?
In memory of Charles “Chip” Roland Leutz
October 4, 1950 – October 16, 2006
May 19, 2007 at 7:29 pm (Poetry)
For years traditions have been blessed
With the oldest form of largesse
From a host a bequest
Rights and property to a guest
For West Coast Natives in B.C.
To sing and dance for company
One needs permission granted, you see
To perform someone else’s work for thee
Whenever I witness a First Nations dance
It is always mentioned, and not happenstance,
A thankful remark for having the chance
To perform another clan’s special dance
Copyright laws of this century
Spur lawsuits for people downloading free
We’d be rid of Mariahs, Justins, and Britneys
Oh the changes we’d see in that industry!
Only the Fitzgeralds, the Kings and the like
Those for whom music is not just a hype
Their bodies and souls require their type
To keep singing and playing, regardless of shite
February 8, 2007 at 1:09 am (Poetry)
Quand je pense à ma vie
Ici, souvent je m’ennuie
La fatigue et les affaires
D’école et du travail
De rien, maintenant, je raffole
Au manoir, je deviens folle
Les amis et les ennuis
J’ai seulement hâte qu’ça soit fini
Livre après livre
Les pages deviennent tordues
Mes pensées perdues
Ce que je pense, ce que je sais
Je ne veux plus étudier
Ni parler, ni penser
Puis-je me reposer?
Prendre un somme et rêver?
Sans être obligée
D’utiliser ma pensée?
Est-ce presque fini
Ce martyre non béni?
Cette torture psychologique
Qui affecte mon physique
Maux de tête
February 5, 2007 at 7:53 am (Poetry)
I once knew a man named Denis
So fit that he still could play tennis
Even now that he’s old
If truth be told
We’re careful ’cause he’s still a menace
Don’t fret if you’re looking for him
You’ll find him fiddling with somethin’
Under a car’s hood
Or in the neighbourhood
Of something in need of a fixin’
February 3, 2007 at 10:18 pm (Livin' North of 60°, Poetry)
Sun is shining bright
Cold, still air; blue skies above
Winter sundogs high
Sundog Picture and information at ExploreNorth
January 31, 2007 at 8:53 pm (Poetry)
Voices can be heard
Like the rumble of the train –
Lively, loud, in conversation.
But with barely a word,
The sound subsides
Until only the hissing can be heard.
And finally, it, too, dies.
No more discourse.
Learning stays within the box,
That which is in the agenda
Or on the track
Of the one for whom
The taking of the post
Was in the hopes
Of making a difference.
Instead, it was a hindrance.
A hindrance to whom the voices belonged,
And to freedom of thought.