Maritime Sketch

in fundy bay boats start to trawl

as the briny tide ebbs and swells

wee chilern wander clutching shells

while from the mist a lone gull calls

mothers hang washin’ on the line

and chat with neighbours over a cup

’til clothes are dry or weather picks up

and smiling dads come home to dine

on pei the sand is red

from iron in the rock below

in its loamy soil corn will grow

for the lobster supper spread

a careworn figure stalks the beach

scouring hunks of driftwood found

he’ll paint ‘em up and turn ‘em round

and sell ‘em for a hundred each

in nova scotia they’re friendly folk

beer and mussels and a handshake

all are welcome at the clambake

singin’ along while supper smokes

go to the docks get us some crabs

look lively now the dory’s back

’tis raining out so wear your mac

look lively b’y no jibber-jab

on signal hill atop st. john’s

spring has started when you see

icebergs parade in chilly seas

and cutters in the harbour yon

at end of day the tide returns

fishing boats unload their holds

artists mix their reds and golds

to paint the sea as the sun sojourns

~e

Her Black Eyes Misting

i am yawning

my eyes crease

and water

in a spate of gasps

still i climb

following her

haunting scent

the clockwork cedes

our blueing light

cold hands clasp

a warming cup

a cupped cheek

a rosy breast

then her black

bitter eyes

blink at me, misting

november visits

ill moods

frosting chill

dying trees

rotted leaves

manifest in slanting light

slowly spun

windward from the sun

five months spring

rounding fresh

glacially

we throw off

our tatty clothes

our failed

melancholy hopes–

our greedy

fusing

bodies

in soaring heat

stoking fire

to ride out

mighty winter

~e

Becoming Mist

a great irish wolfhound

jogged along the trail

its mistress tethered

in a stylish track suit

people climbed stairs

to nowhere

while off to the side

lay the true path

in a bed of colourful leaves

neath an arching footbridge

mossy stones were strewn

randomly

small rapids led

to a glorious waterfall

wind from above

gathered moisture

became mist

swept down on those below

wetting cheeks

like tears

~e

Apple Thieves

swirling leaves

apple thieves

pumpkins carved

witches gnarled

pumpkin pie

chestnuts fly

ghosts about

shelling out

parents rake

grammas bake

morning frost

daylight lost

hockey game

logs aflame

thanksgiving feast

migrating geese

grey cup champs

embers dance

coloured trees

steeping tea

winter threatens

armchair beckons

suntan fades

santa claus parade

snow tires on

a later dawn

windshield scraped

apples baked

harvest moon

cold and flu

scarves and mitts

candles lit

poppies pinned

biting wind

trumpet plays

vets parade

~e

Little Loving Urchins

waking up

sun breaking

air is still

water calm

a loon wails

tea kettle answers

brew a steaming cup

pull on a sweater

down to the dock

mist rising

lake shimmering

deep breaths

slow sips

in the kitchen

bacon sizzles

eggs are stirred

toast pops

and coffee drips

an angel wakes

comes toddling

from her room

hugging her bear

rubbing sleep

from her bright eyes

a cuddle with mum

to start the day

‘did you have good sleeps’?

gets a nod and a smile

mornings of love and wonder

too soon just memory

little loving urchins

stumbling from their beds

dreams fresh in their faces

warmed by the wood fire

and gentle greetings

snuggling under blankets

clutching a favoured toy

parents spoon cereal

while they have the chance

babci in her bathrobe

and little boy

in the green room

speaking of

bull dozers and birds

busy in the trees

days of play and adventure

splashing in the warm sun

reflected on cool water

running still and deep

like family

~e

A Morning Jewel

sunrise on a northern lake

whorls of mist on the glassy pool

push off from shore in the paddle’s wake

sunrise kayak–a morning jewel

the mist slowly lifts revealing blue

sun burns off its billowy veil

blades carve water straight and true

lily pads sway in the rippling trail

sliding slowly across the bay

as the sun ignites in hues of red

a touch of beauty to start the day

while companions still doze abed

on the other side rise small isles

where birds collect among jutting rocks

blueberry island brings a smile

with noisy gulls amid the flocks

listen for the loon’s wailing call

watch for cormorants flying low

in the marsh stands a heron tall

the wild glides by as i serenely row

so rise with the sun in a scenic spot

for summer’s close is nigh

and every morning kayak taken not

in winter’s freeze evokes a sigh

~e

A Morrow Less Wet

raining raining

windows wet

come the storm clouds

dark and gloomy

an end to sunlight

poorly met

raining raining

dampened fur

the shaking dog

and its dripping coat

on the carpet sleeping

lies the friendly cur

raining raining

lake water stirs

cold grey depths

in lapping waves

no people swimming

no dogs immersed

raining raining

so wet and cold

children huddled

‘neath cozy blankets

quietly reading

within a sofa’s folds

raining raining

boats bob, docked

no water skiers

cross the wake

no rods are cast

no fish are caught

raining raining

laundry spins

dishes washing

a kitchen cleaned

newspaper read

nap begins

raining raining

the unseen sun sets

start the supper

and chill the wine

hope the dawn brings

a morrow less wet

~e

To The Curb In Reverb

slip-slap flat feet hit the mac

rolling out yellow grain growing high

tic-tac bad breath on the mat

walking like you’re late for work

arms glide green fields slide by

pushing up the hilltop

ball fields cut grass warm dry

frisbee flies leaping up dog grabs

young man shin pads soccer ball–gol!

extra practice uniform dribble drills

train rumbles traffic stops red lights ding

cars resume woman with stroller smiles

short breath light sweat level off

paved lot glows hot cars in spots

lester young solo sax–sweet spot

gliding in smooth sound cross town

cross the street tall trees hidden path

leg cramp sidewalk crack broken back

house numbers hydrants painted doors

cul de sac turning back off the track

ella sings heartstrings lush voice

louis toots big horn bold as brass

from the grass to the curb in reverb

walking on heartbeat up setting sun

going down head for home shuffle on

mingus plays fight song takes too long

front door turn the key earphones out

relax gulp some juice kick off shoes

~e

And Small Birds Sing

the house stirs

doors are shut

sun beams in

i am awake

indian music

plays softly

from the kitchen

wafting like spices

poems hung

on the walls

abstract art

everywhere

the mistress’

little touches

throughout

but she’s not here

downstair neighbours

come and go

their numbers grow

vagrants wander

and in my rooms

my pictures hung

an uncle’s lamp

lights waiting laundry

my bonsai grows

new green buds

i pull off everyone

like horsefly wings

in a corner

my mac shines

its calling light

reminds me to write

while wet towels hang

slowly drying

on the back of the door

beside my robe

the sporadic smell

of mary jane

lingers round

stirring memories

lock the door

and start walking

today i climb the hill

ignored too long

the first step

always the hardest

a hurdle leapt

and small birds sing

~e

In So Many Words

storm clouds and broken glass

bleeding fingers and the chilling fog

empty like a tide elapsed

the gnawed abyss deep inside

storm clouds and chain-link fence

the caged voice screams

and in silent torment vents

hot tears streaming cleanse

storm clouds and loneliness

the patient freeze of isolation

anxiety's frisson with attendant stress

the long decline and no sensation

storm clouds and dark of night

the sleeper slowly wakes

and in a stupor stares in fright

at shadows weaving on the walls

storm clouds and bitter rain

the sense of failure's keening ring

the giving up and the trying again

the pervading numbness of everything

storm clouds and rays break through

the shadows and the piercing sun

the lasting struggle for my virtue

the moment passed the challenge won

storm clouds in a steel blue sky

roil and broil toward distant plains

depression in so many words

stills the body and numbs the brain

~e

A Warmth That Went Cold

box of old letters

love letters of old

scent of her incense

and a warmth that went cold

such potent memories

of our lasting fling

we played out our romance

it consumed everything

hearts are too human

and fail over time

discarded connection

the young lover’s crime

time carries on

unmeasured like rain

marking our world

in sand’s single grain

subtle scent beckons

her lovely face

we kissed in the dark

stars shooting apace

a love writ in letters

from beginning to end

hearts bled on pages

we’d faithfully send

our love was shortsighted

and doomed to its fate

i buried her letters

in a dusty old crate

hidden away

abandoned to time

the sad little story

of love in our prime

she chose her way

and i took my own

the world lies between us

we reap what we sow

forgotten and wistful

love letters of old

wilting away

like lovers grown cold

~e

Round The Stage

blonde curls in a tutu fly

round the stage as years flit by

dancing bunnies hop in tow

parents cheer and laud the show

summer days in the cottage sun

splashing kids having fun

jump rock leaps and pedal boat rides

roasting mallows under starry nights

intrepid skiers practice turns

with rosy cheeks from frostbite’s burn

the brother always takes the jumps

while the sister tries to stay off her rump

bundle them up for the big ski-doo

and to build a giant snowman too

or skating round the hockey rink

back in for cocoa with noses pink

school nights are for getting studies done

homework help from a teacher mum

dad will drive you to the game

get iced cream then back home again

years flit by kids grow up fast

but treasured times will forever last

family never goes away

but in collective memory stays

~e

Fifty Bells In Lac-Megantic

fifty bells in lac-megantic

one for every person lost

a rail disaster so tragic

toll out the names and the cost

seventy-two tankers wait

above the sleepy québec town

no crew aboard to watch the freight

silent wheels start rolling down

the darkened train speeds downhill

tankers filled with light crude oil

it runs off the rails at rue laval

fireballs rise and smoking, roil

lac-megantic is afire

a wall of flame roars through town

claiming lives in the growing pyre

’til the musi-café crumbles down

local people flee in terror

train cars strewn about like toys

the sleeping engineer in error

the heat the flames the smoke the noise

in the aftermath a province grieves

so many young among the dead

the railway defers; survivors seethe

oil pollutes the watershed

lac-megantic used to be

a scenic summer tourist town

before the tanker train rolled free

and fifty mournful bells tolled out

~e

In Springtime Days

thirty years of friendship born

in springtime days of yestermorn

sustained beyond the school bell's chime

when 'fore us spread a wealth of time

next steps were taken in halting form

from school to work our days transformed

your studies kept you fully engaged

i started work at minimum wage

life seemed new–some freedom won

and i recall some days of fun

trips with friends to a glassy lake

boogie board risking transom's wake

but time is always marching on

toward an ever breaking dawn

we laboured for our daily bread

our eyes ne'er turned but stared ahead

raging storms left mournful grief

loved ones lost in a time too brief

and families turned upside down

marked youth's end and fixed a frown

along the way we sought to capture

via shutter speed and small aperture

nature–focused into pixels sharp

and friendship into finest art

no truer friend have i met

in my travels and circles yet

faithfully disposed and loyal who

shares both laughter and pensive too

so keep this note for years to come

lest one of us grows increasingly dumb

or memory fades into murky mist

when we’ll need this laundry list

thirty years later and here we are

friends who’ve known life’s boons and scars

here’s a toast to thirty more

when we’ll forget what’s gone before!

~e

Vivid Threads of Memory

paved hills in golden twilight

sky brushed with sanguine clouds

a mother with her girl and boy

stroll through their little town

pausing for polite hellos

and neighbourly goodbyes

past the local playground

and its vacant spinning rides

at the cenotaph’s graven names

where the setting sunlight dies

rounding on the railway

in the vast falling night

a sudden train shoots past

the dark, lanced by headlight

bleeds like red wine splashed

vivid threads of memory

from childhood long outgrown

time’s slow balm for grieving

the only parent i’ve ever known

ten years on is left a shadow

where once was bright affinity

a life reduced to hallows

that bring flowers she esteemed

~e

In Dappled Sun

i laid down my head

in the hollow of your belly

to listen for the ocean

you stretched out your arms

like a cat in dappled sun

my breath stirred

pale hairs in your skin

my lips

followed you down

you shuddered

and drew breath

feet clenching

you whispered my name

and we were lost

in a moment

~e

My Reverie

Wondrous threads of memory

A visage caught in tender gaze

Her lovely face–my reverie

More beauteous with the passing days

Ah such days we stole but time’s the thief

He gives in turn and turning takes away

So granting us a love too brief

We loved and our loving he betrayed!

By means of loving we were made more whole

Each one fully present in the pairing

The poignant ache of parting took its toll

And in the end we were left despairing

But in fullness time mends broken hearts

Memory keeps the best; the rest departs

~e

Shakespearean Sonnet

In Trills of Two

so softly coos the mourning dove

in sad lament of his lost love

he finds a lonely place up high

for his lost mate perhaps to spy

betwixt the noisy sparrow’s din

and busy wheels that loudly spin

in the pause between goings-on

is when you’ll hear his doleful song

what can inspire this lonesome voice

mere instinct or a rueful choice

on a strand of wire perched above

listen for the lone mourning dove

or in twilight at end of day

when other birds have quit the fray

you’ll see broad wings of dappled grey

and hear him sing sotto voce

in the silence you’ll hear him coo

whispering soft in trills of two

in dimming grey of evening light

his echoing sighs haunt the night

~e

As Pearls Might Bleed

sparkling drops play upon the pane

glass glimmering in the falling rain

finest gems never shone so bright

as daubs of cloud in shards of light

silken web cast in golden beads

in glist’ning streaks as pearls might bleed

the earth drinks deep to nourish seeds

as the edge of night soft recedes

drops keep falling like limitless stars

slow the storm ebbs in the early hours

rain lingers long in our swirling dreams

’til the sun rises in majestic beams

rain diffuses sound and makes us slow

that we might pause to see the flowers grow

if the worst we must ever suffer through

is a little rain count us the lucky few

spring trades showers for blossoms in the sun

to celebrate another hard-fought winter won

come may we’ll find a sunlit bower

amid the warmth and fragrant flowers

’til then go softly in the gentle rain

until we dwell in sunny days again

~e

Little Buddha

little buddha

begging alms

smiling zen

of ganja charms

humble pilgrim

of the gentle rain

warms his body

on a subway grate

lonely street

in the frigid cold

a prostrate offering

collecting tolls

scruffy denizen

in dire straits

is it given to you

to ask and wait?

ringing mantra

in chanting voice

got a dollar?

pedestrian choice

thank the fates

bay street man

ring the karmic bell

and clink the can

the yogic flyer

perched on his mat

with sufficient coin

can get some crack

when his carpet lands

magic drained

he'll doff the hat

and score again

malevolent heap

in a thrift-store coat

forever camped

where nothing grows

in the noxious fumes

that perfume and choke

squats the human cost

of the globalized yoke

come tomorrow who

will be on the street

is it me or you

in this economy?

~efb

Memory and Thyme

years tumble by

like pebbles on the shore

they sink forgotten

leaving only ripples

old jobs

past loves

lost friends

time is the glacier

inexorable and unforgiving

coming for us all

time creases my hands

my eyes my mouth

it greys my hair

it makes me patient

and claims small

glimpses of wisdom

time is a litany

of lost visits

dead faces

forgotten places

where we once hid

and names etched

in memory

seasons flit by

my window

winters heaped

like cordwood

savoured meals

things to laugh on

others to rue

far-flung places

wild spaces

cold water falling

hibernating deserts

palm trees amid

remains of old fenceposts

and rusted wire

christmases long ago

deep snows

white lilies

easter bread loaves

special feasts

and sunday roasts

like pepper or thyme

memories spice our lives

making fragrant days

and piquant nights

without memory

we are nothing

pebbles ground to sand

blown away in the wind

~e

One Vast Filament

hubble's cyclops

and distant rovers

are changing minds

the whole world over

slaving robots

on distant stars

the presence of water

proves life on mars

all the discoveries

man has learned

in the book of science

another leaf turns

euclid's geometry

was not enough

to scrutinize

space's stuff

it took gauss

and rheeman too

synthesized in

einstein's truth

now new technology

advances the search

for goldilocks planets

just like earth

we can see deeper

into space’s scope

to hunt for orbs

in the habitable zone

still we jumble thru

the universe

on and on

thus dispersed:

where space and time

meet together

a cosmic web

spinning in the altogether

a little jot

in a galaxy

one vast filament

turning infinitely

~e

The Darkness Wins

late winter blues

shades of night

the madding keys

of chopin’s mind

keening in my ears

breath comes quick

stark upon the air

but she’s not here

wet march snows

sleeting drifts

washington, d.c.

reunited lovers kiss

chestnut hair

cascades down

i whispered her name

and we forgot to eat

memory shifts

like distant clouds

below a mountaintop

glimpses open fast

of what’s left behind

melancholy waltz

darkness comes as

shards in a looking glass

her pale hand

caressed my brow

hushed words we spoke

my fingers in her hair

brown eyes flecked with grey

full honeyed lips

soft fingertips

before i her trust betrayed

stormy hands crash

the first ballade

chopin grasping

the darkling seam inside

though what’s dark

can be beautiful

glissando fingers

can’t cast grief aside

late winter blues

bleach the night

in a minor key

menacing trees sway

in violent thrusts

vestiges of lust

dark nights

luminous skin

i speak her name

in grey gusts

hanging in the air

the cold wind sings

on high octave strings

piano quakes

the artist raked in

the sounding board’s despair

clouds shift once more

lone streetlamp shines

cold hands dark veins

diminuendo calm

regret surfaces

fading memory like

snowmelt in a river

i am alone again

in this dusking world

some few chances

in this short life

years flood by

hair greys

hands reach for

her smirking face

only finding strife

arpeggios of soothing calm

linger on

cathartic balm for

ranging fits of madding when

seized by memory

beauty struggles

the darkness wins

and tragedy transcends

~e

Note: Chopin's Ballade No. 1 in G Minor Op. 23