Category Archives: Canadian

An Ancient Dream

 

 

 

Up high I climbed, weary, yet not dismayed;
Tired, yet had strength within me that was steel
Against the harsh wind; sad, yet so that tears
Seemed sweet drops of joy too intense to feel.

Then at the golden Gate I knocked, with the power of my fears,
Knowing how full of woe, yet full of wonder was I.
Through all that night they helped me sleep, to dream
An ancient dream, perhaps the one before we die

Of things unknown that appeared like ghosts through swirling Time,
No harmony, nor music soft spun from magic sight,
Save a single haunting, plaintive, note that to me seemed
A scent of jasmine, carried on a desert wind, at night.

And refreshed I was, with the light of the rising sun,
And by this peaceful place, this haven from hatred’s constant voice,
Wishing the same for all who watch, alone, the crying stars,
Who live in war, unable to rejoice.

The Tea Pot

 

The tea pot sits with ease on the stove,

Like a king enthroned, with mantle steel-wove,

Looking about with an imperious air,

Lord of the beverage, please use him with care.

 

I am his subject and all who drink tea,

For our hearts he enriches and bans misery,

He sagely and warmly revives our bleak lives,

Makes slow hours quick with friends, even wives,

 

He is prince beneficent of calm and repose,

Himself sits in silence, with uplifted nose,

Save on occasion of dividing his wealth,

Brewing ambrosia, from herbs he gives health.

Cell Phone Blues

 

 

You called me, you rang me, so many times,

Told me you loved me, but now it’s all crimes,

You called me, this morning, told me nothing is new,

“We’re over, we’re finished, you’re dead, yeah, we’re through.”

 

I can’t put it down but the thing rings again,

Just when I’m thinking of women, and when,

“Hey, you written that yet, you doing your job?’

“He’s not well,” “He’s nuts, “Say, who did I rob?”

 

When I smoke a little weed, bang, there it is,

“Hey, Bowie died, man, did you hear that sad biz?

They’re going, my friend, like snow in the sun …”

His voice sounding muffled like a soft silenced gun,

 

When I sit at the wheel, just radio drifting,

The thing comes alive, it’s jumping and shifting,

Won’t ever shut up, a real howling banshee,

Now a cop drives by, just taking a look see.

 

“Hey buddie, how are yuh? Say, can you lend me ten grand?”

This guitar millionaire in a rock and roll band,

Then, a one and the other, it makes your brain bend,

The medium’s the message, and this is the end,

 

Now I gaze at the ceiling and watch Chaplinesque scenes

Adrift on the silence of silvery screens,

No more ringing, or buzzing, no more static for news-

‘Cause I’m tired of having those cell phone blues.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Remember Bluebells

I remember bluebells,

Soft, strewn among the trees,

And I remember songbirds,

And running by the sea,

And I remember one long night,

You took your leave of me.

 

You took your leave, without a word,

‘Midst shadows of the night,

Hands outstretched to take you back,

You slipped beyond my sight,

And the only softening sound I heard

Above my falling tear,

Was the distant sound of nature’s love,

In a cricket’s song of cheer.

 

I remember bluebells,

Like stars among the dew,

And I remember mists of rain,

And all my words spoke true,

But aye, you wanted someone else,

And all my words were vain,

As you took from me the rose you gave,

Another’s heart to gain.

 

Winds of Woven Dreams

 

CirclePainting2

 

The wilding winds of woven dreams,

Torment the seas of time,

And in the air that no man sees,

There is the scent of crime,

 

Of sorrow, truths and hidden lies,

The face we all disguise,

The ready masks and old clichés,

That hide among the wise,

 

Of passions chained and sleeping rage,

They cannot exist,

But watch them burn and brightly flame

Among the freedom kissed,

 

The night is long, and rarely lit,

By reason or its kin,

And in the cavern dark and dim,

Madness makes its din.

 

 

A Petal Fallen

 

Dedicated to Cheyenne Fox,

(One of the many First Nations women of Canada
who are murdered and missing)

vigil-cheyenne fox

One more petal sadly fell,
From the flower of Ojibwe youth,
And all the skies wept warm tears,
When they took her from that place
Where no one cared, and no one asked,
Who this fair girl once was,
For then the world would sink in shame,
To know the bitter truth.

She was of the People,
Who lived when heroes lived,
Before They came from distant seas,
Who came and never left,

She was of the People,
Who none to men were slaves,
The day she died, alone and cold,
In their cold city, by the lake.

Too many fallen petals,
When one will bring a tear,
Too many things unanswered,
When it’s answers that They fear,
For we’re tired of parliamentary lies,
And we’re tired of foreign laws,
So, let us live, and let us be
The People when first you came,
So give us justice, and give us peace,
And the answers that we claim,
For remember, we are warriors,
And warriors of great fame.