Well, yet another thing I am not good at updating, so I thought I would start this evening with the newest things I am writing/sharing!
The Bus Passed Me
"Shea Heights, St. John's?
is that what you said?
Hell yes I know where that is."
The hill folk are backward
for 19th century Newfoundlanders,
and here it is well into the 21st.
I lit a smoke and took another sip
of an ice cold Budweiser.
I was in the Legends Bar by gate 16C
of the Halifax Airport.
The longest walk I ever had in my life
was when I missed the bus
over on New Gower Street by the park
and had to climb that hill
for two miles to see my girlfriend.
You wouldn't believe
how many different ways
they have to say
"bugger off Yank,"
after stopping to ask if
you need a ride!
I must have leaned against
the big codfish
painted on the cement wall
for an hour catching my breath
and lamenting hateful folks.
I realized my Boston Bruins
jersey was causing trouble
in the middle of
Toronto Maple Leaf Hockey country.
Maybe that's why the driver
looked at me and waved
as the bus passed me.
"Shea Heights, St. John's?
I believe that is another place
I will never go again
of my own free will.
Too cold. Too many memories.
The Icy North
96 degrees in the shade yesterday,
today thunderstorms and cold
hid the sun when I greeted the day.
The calendar says summer bold,
but it feels like fall is on the way,
and winter's gales will soon unfold.
It is 55 degrees on a chilly morning,
maybe too cold for the birds to sing.
The King’s Cross And The Jack
Flowers at King's Cross,
the Union Jack's hung low.
Innocents have paid the cost.
Flowers at King's Cross,
a nation mourns those lost.
The seeds of sadness grow.
Flowers at King's Cross,
The Union Jack's hung low.
The Old Door
The creaky old wooden door
sticking at the bottom from warpage
stands open revealing much more
than a room worn with age.
Creaking floors trod by generations,
the number of feet, hard to gauge.
Numerous daughters and sons
have walked across it like a stage.
"Skreeeek" the door opens again
and two children wander out
from a once again inhabited domain.
This house is a home no doubt!
The creaky old wooden door
stands in sadness, no more.
Time Enough To Wander
Steadfast and always onward
no time to explore or dawdle
I rammed my way through life.
No slow flower smelling days
or pauses upon crooked lane.
I rammed my way through life.
Trying to beat the ticking clock,
I ran through wing-footed days,
always a step ahead of disaster.
Days and weeks flew swiftly,
not a moment of fun to be had,
always a step ahead of disaster.
One day I saw your beautiful face;
stumbled my feet, skipped my heart.
Now I've time enough to wander.
Hand and hand we stroll along,
flower sniffing, stone skipping.
Now I've time enough to wander.
Torn Apart
I saw a TV show,
not exactly drama
or science,
but intriguing
nonetheless.
With cars, trucks,
and finally tanks
two men
tore in half
a phone book.
Yellow cover
and black
printed white pages
finally disintegrated
in a rain of confetti.
I thought of
me and you
love torn apart,
heart decimated
in a rain of hate.
Until I Met You
Never did I see
stars so bright;
walking with thee
on a moonlit night.
I had no expectation
that I would awaken,
and meet all creation
with a smile again.
Never did I know
the skies so blue,
grass green below
until I met you.
#follow me
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