Monthly Archives: November 2013

Plum Pud

christmas 2007 121





A request;

Weaving the lines of my life together

One woolen strand at a time.

Piecing the tapestry

On the loom.

Two names;

Separate identities.

A deeper hue

The door is shut

The key lost

The threads hang limp

Waiting for a whisper through the keyhole

Will you share?


???????????????????????????????It wasn’t the first time it happened.

Her heart knew better,

But this was the most powerful.

 Inch by inch she walked

Toward  the structure.

It was the sound

Of moving air;

A feeling of elation.

The world grew and then collapsed

As  if tired;

Or Judging.

So many times

They had warned her

To stay away,

No place for a good girl.

Lake Ontario Park

DSCF2008When I lie on my back

And turn my head just so

The colours of the leaves

Blend with the blue of the sky.

This is my favourite place.

There are no demanding voices,

No harsh words,

Just the sound of the wind in the trees.

I could die here.

My spirit blending with the oak above me

Or floating like a leaf out to the lake to ride upon the waves.

Sometimes I hear the echo of voices,

I don’t understand them,

But  I can hear their essence.

Like anger or love in a foreign movie.

Full Moon



White lilies glowed in

The candlelight

And incense filled the air.

A well dressed room


Set for the final act.

Our last goodbye-

To the body wrapped in cotton.

Words not spoken

Are now left as votives

Before an empty shell.

Songs for the departed

Purge the heart of blood

And soul of spirit.

One closing farewell

Before the

Soil claims its own.


Whitby Abbey



It was there

Written in the

Hunter’s moon.

She chose to ignore it.

She subscribed to the constant beating of her heart;

The thump against her ears

 In the quiet times.

At least with that echo

In the silence.

Her body.

She could be certain of


She could touch,


Maybe even feel.

A distant hum; mother’s voice

That gave her hope.

Small in Comparison



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