On The other Side Is Yang

what moved me

an open door

what reason

for one step

a forbidden errand

sharp clarity

my heart dubs

my voice

i am yin

but incomplete

until my feet meet

the threshold

Today I am a Terrorist

a black crow flys against white skies

tears run mourning the loss of the sun

today i am filled with sadness

The Celebration

here’s to being an individual

to red hair and blue eyes

here’s to voluptuousness

freckles and pale skin

a celebration of myself

Yet Another Winter’s Day

reflections of  snow

falling hard falling fast

something tells me 

this is the end

the end

of the beginning

the beginning of us

time has no reflections

only the memories

we made of each other

Mt. Parnassus

I travel to Liakoura for I am but a muse

to meditate on it’s mighty face.

I absorb myself in thoughts.

Liakoura, Liakoura,

I wish to reunite with my sisters.

I’ve been far too long away.

Calliope; epic poetry, her passion.

She is solemn and strong and

belonging to the heroes.

Cilo, who taught me of the past;

she belongs to greatness.

Erato, who showed me how to love.

Her poetry tells it all.

Euterpe made me to listen,

the music through her veins.

Melpomene, depressing at times

and a lesson I did learn from her

for we cannot avoid our tragedies.

Polyhymina, a poetess

of the most sacred kind

from whom I learned importance.

Terpsichore, how she moves, a story in itself,

who showed me how to make my body flow  

Thalia whom I cannot thank enough and encouraged me to smile

with a humour of the clever kind.

Urania, eyes upward always to the skies,

who breathed life unto the stars and

set them sparkling in my eyes.

I am a muse of all, no, master of  none

Liakoura, Liakoura

my journey yet undone.

I ache to see your rockface and stand

where nine may become ten.

Seeking Solitude

when the sun melts the ice

the pond will be free

i can sit with a book

enjoy the swans

and pretend to smile

at the people who pass by

i imagine what it would be like

to indulge in isolation

on that tiny island

where the swans are at home

The Boy From Pinns Brook

oh the last time we spoke

six years ago in church

i wouldn’t hold your hand

i was such a little child

had dreams about you

breaking twenties

in the collection plate

we wrote notes back and forth

oh how i laughed at you

i do miss you

next time i see you

i will say hello

24 Bannisters Road

an old Newfoundland house

sits on a hill over looking the Bay of Islands

framed by two majestic maple trees

a steep and dangerous driveway

makes it a difficult climb to the top

passing by cellar door and mail box

an unkempt garden appeals to the eye

messy enough but a garden none the less

though the rusty screen door another door awaits

a wooden door of substantial age

the door knob is exhausted and not longer fits

ignore it’s tired looks as you pass through both doors

immediately you are hit with fragrances of every kind

Grandmothers fresh home made bread and raspberry jam

Grandfathers capelin and bacon frying in a cast iron pan

i bid them both good morning

i pass through the kitchen at eight am 

trying not to smell the bacon and fish

as i ascend two flights of stairs to my room

six rooms on the left and on the right

scattered down a narrow hall

mine is the last on the right

my fathers childhood room

so many memories in this room

none of which i experienced

that has no relevance

i make my own memories

just like many before me

who called this house home

 four years from now this place

will be nothing but a pile of rubble

framed by two majestic maple trees

Pictures Of Us

once on that wall hung pictures of us

now there are just pictures of her

remember that time when we were so alive 

the picture seemed to light up the room with your glow 

when you and i were so happy together

when you laughed at everything

i wish that we never grew up and apart

now there are no more pictures of us

for now i sit alone in the frame

waiting for someone else to take my picture

Wish, Wished , Wishing

she sat by the wishing well

wishing she had not wished

when she realized

that she shouldn’t be wishing

for a wish was what

she has wished for

now she wished

that she had not wished

about wishing

for she cannot stop

wishing for the wish

she wished for