My Poems – Poésie

These poems, with the exception of the first, are arranged as newest first:
And they are not all short.


Unnatural Selection

The robins and grackles are back from the Gulf
The latter I chase from the feeders
Five cardinal couples we welcome with speed
And everything smaller is welcome, indeed!
And one pair of blue jays partakes of our seed.
Sans grackles Big Blues are the leaders

April 2020



At Manchester Airport – October 13, 1969

In this exploding cosmos

Few constants are found

Save those that last a lifetime


Dealing With Dharmas

Laurelcrest Creek Haiku


Plaza Mayor




Rebelde Fidel

El Morro – Santiago da Cuba


Our Canadian Cello







A meditation




Pynx Hill

Pynx Hill and Middle Stoa – Athens


In the Gears of A Cycle




In Harper’s Fields




War On 

April 2, 2015


Bird Feeder

IMG_0067 March 6, 2015

Follow broken ice, and then
Look up, wee junco
To the reason for the path


Shifting Sands

Valley of the Kings – excavation continues…

Treasures of the Kings’ tombed vale
Gradually revealed
In balanced, stoic movement


Craggy Madness



October Sky


Dance the one; sing into life

Beautiful, bright notes

Gentler, simpler, wiser – be



This kept calling until I surrendered

Morning through bedroom window

Tree and sun say, “Come.

Be present in reflection.”


Approaching The “Big” Seven – Oh…

Disillusioned troubadour

Threadbare, graceless, sore

Wistful for the glint of yore





Crocus Crocus

Crocus laconique, saillant

Montre nous, les hommes

Comment passer sans rancoeur


HD – Y?

On cusp of waking

Random, sharp memories come

Crisp irrelevance?




Two and one are here

Sanctuary here, and joy

Sun and moon, and more


Ode To The Penny-Wise At Tax Time

It’s ten lousy dollars
It’s no good to me
I’ll continue with pencil and paper
That’s free

Next year I’d have tried
Your app for my iPad
But you boys are so cheap
So it’s “Too Bad.” and “So sad.”

This year my taxes are already sent
No refund? You’ll lose in the future; I’m spent.

A farewell letter after a brief liaison.



Babcock wastes Subban.

It’s about supremacy

In the race for gold.



Autism spectrum…

“Disorder” might save us all

Jumble our jungle…


On Pettiness and Power

Your power job’s so boring

That you make it “fun”

By provoking those you serve?



We sailed past Charlotte’s Isles

And took the odd Champagne

We bathed in Margaret’s smiles

We think of her again.

We’d laugh and look at things

That we were blessed to view

Still now our laughter rings

The days so fine; they flew.

And now within the mist

Her atoms dance and spin

Each breath we take is kissed

By where her love has been.


Deep Doo-doo Haiku

Dancing around goose droppings

In search of warblers

Adds to the thrill? I think not…



An osprey sits and gazes

Not a feather moves

‘Til sudden dive and capture


A Sonnet of Sooth
December 3rd, 2010

When people ask me “Dost thou give a puck?”
And more, in turn, care not what I opine
When avarice is father of design
And ignorance, well breast-fed, runs amok
My own, indomite leaning, ne’er to duck
Regardless of the risk of quick malign
Begins to lose its sting, its heart, its brine
And life, soon spiceless, really starts to suck…
The impulse to retreat beguiles me, strong
To fly this quacky coop, and let the pack
Of gold-toothed foxes dine both fell and long
Upon this careless and complacent throng
‘Til what was bounteous swiftly turns to lack
And Gaia’s humblest forms will carry on.


Mamaji, Two-Oh-Oh-Three

Mamaji is never done
In the kitchen having fun
Gives Remy’s fish sticks one more turn
In the process, ouch! A burn!

One more mark on zebra arms
Working culinary charms
Is not without its dangers – see –
The smoke alarm goes off – fan me!

To the mall for grocery shopping
This early bird just keeps on hopping
Oops, left her specs at home this time
This colour of label looks just fine!

In the garden pulling weeds
Green thumbs up – pass me those seeds
Matchless in the horticulture
Plants, even tricky sorts, indulge her.

And in the driveway – “Oh, those blasted
Cars need moving – where’d they last put
Keys for this – who’s leaving first
I think my head is going to burst!”

O dear Mama, O darling Wife
Our Love – Our Hope – Our Bank – Our Life
Today relax – put up those feet
On Monday all this will repeat!



Trinidad, land of life and music
Rio Claro, local gathering place
Ringing monthly to the wonderful lilt of Lata and Mohammed
Beckoning people to come and spend their government pay
On silk, on sari, on sustenance

Into this quiet, remote, laid back market town
Came a young woman with a zest for life
A sensitivity for its art
A curiosity about the steamy, green island
And an ability to persuade all around her
To join, unafraid in the living jump-up of who we are…
Of who we might be

The Island quickened the moment she arrived
As though it sensed her presence and her energy
Learning, laughing, questioning, poeming
Synthesizing histories and homelands, heart and hope
Hammering away on its great, teak portico
Shattering its sensible, sultry noon-time sleepiness.

After Trinidad, the clashing of New York
Working with people in much greater need
People separated from the fruits of land and sea
From yams, mangoes and redfish
Programs replacing photosynthesis
Indignity replacing oneness with the Mother.

Toronto, and home!
The museum, dance, music, literature, Bly…
Adding yet more elements
To that clear and indestructible crystal
That is her memory in our hearts

Lewiston, tendrils reaching out
A search for the permanence that roots might bring
A climate perhaps too sylvan and obscure for a cactus flower

Las Vegas, glorious desert of pinks and purples
A modern, wild and western place
Concealing an ancient oneness, depth, spirituality
Behind the brash and boastful banging and bullying
Of the new order

Juliana, now a different force
One with her world, quiet, serene
Calming and caressing that uneasy, fevered sand
With a gentle, smoothing wisdom
Which gift is the reward of a life well-lived
A gift not lost on us, who are blest to know



Golden and glorious in the afternoon!

A beachball…
Boldly bouncing in the wind
A wayward globe untouched by sand or water
A moon in playful, errant orbit
Protected from the grave, inevitable earth by helpful hands
Hurled in a happy celebration of life

A gauntlet, thrown…
Energy and joy poured out in a quixotic charge
Against that elemental mill – that solemn universe
Whose grinding entropy, without lull or lapse
Returns us to its calm, enduring bosom
To rest in hushed, harmonic stillness.

Among those gallant knights and fierce companions
Jousting on that sandy battleground
One caught my glance, and shining brightly in the blaze
Of her art and her ambition, held my gaze.

Near thirty years have passed as quick as silver
Since that afternoon on that enchanted shore
We tilt and battle still, but now together
Against the windmills of the world, and sure

The fight is sweeter and the wounds less weighty
Wins and losses, draughts from the same cup
Should we remain and thrive till five and eighty
We’ll live and love, then laugh and drink it up.


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