These poems, with the exception of the first, are arranged as newest first:
And they are not all short.
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Unnatural Selection
April 2020
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Friendship
At Manchester Airport – October 13, 1969In this exploding cosmos
Few constants are found
Save those that last a lifetime
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Dealing With Dharmas
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Plaza Mayor
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Amity
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Rebelde Fidel
El Morro – Santiago da Cuba*********
Our Canadian Cello
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Canada
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Identity
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Mist
A meditation*********
Serenity
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Pynx Hill
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In the Gears of A Cycle
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Harbour
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In Harper’s Fields
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Auschwitz
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War On
April 2, 2015
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Bird Feeder
March 6, 2015Follow broken ice, and then
Look up, wee junco
To the reason for the path
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Shifting Sands
Valley of the Kings – excavation continues…Treasures of the Kings’ tombed vale
Gradually revealed
In balanced, stoic movement
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Craggy Madness
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Be
October SkyBe
Dance the one; sing into life
Beautiful, bright notes
Gentler, simpler, wiser – be
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Surrender
This kept calling until I surrenderedMorning through bedroom window
Tree and sun say, “Come.
Be present in reflection.”
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Approaching The “Big” Seven – Oh…
Disillusioned troubadour
Threadbare, graceless, sore
Wistful for the glint of yore
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Newfoundland
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Crocus
CrocusCrocus laconique, saillant
Montre nous, les hommes
Comment passer sans rancoeur
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HD – Y?
On cusp of waking
Random, sharp memories come
Crisp irrelevance?
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Microcosm
Two and one are here
Sanctuary here, and joy
Sun and moon, and more
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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 freeNext 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.
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Supremacy
Babcock wastes Subban.
It’s about supremacy
In the race for gold.
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Spectrum
Autism spectrum…
“Disorder” might save us all
Jumble our jungle…
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On Pettiness and Power
Your power job’s so boring
That you make it “fun”
By provoking those you serve?
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Margaret
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.
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Deep Doo-doo Haiku
Dancing around goose droppings
In search of warblers
Adds to the thrill? I think not…
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Osprey
An osprey sits and gazes
Not a feather moves
‘Til sudden dive and capture
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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.
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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!
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Juliana…
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
Juliana.
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Mayaro
Mayaro!
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.
mightyturk 
Extremely beautiful work!
Thank you, Claire, for your generous encouragement – and for finding these!
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