Friday, May 30, 2008

Forgotten Fruit

from October 2006

Monday, May 26, 2008

Mother Poem

A poem I wrote a few weeks ago that I'll share here today, Memorial Day in the States, for Mom.

It's been almost 28 years since cancer took her, but Mother, you are in my thoughts almost evey day still.


In the middle of their season,
filled with nourishing fruit,
some half eaten, dissembled,
a natural disaster discovered.
Tender blossoms, hovered over,

protected each day, look up,
once her precious seeds;
their buds have eyes that rain
as cancer has stripped her
a bark-less log, withered.

The plummet of coverings,
gravity is a greedy force.
Beneath the tender layers
like a plague, disease takes
until the instant winds,

woodchopper fierce, remove balance,
and pull her down, horizontal earth.
The birds and the beetles
gather in a feast chorus
of chew, peel, and carry music,

a song of disappearance
yet that that has been
left behind, little leaves,
tiny twigs with her marrow,
if only in one's mind

can nurture some strength.
The young will grow up
eventually, rise high enough
to shade the soil from the sun;
the place her roots still lay.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Cause & Effect

Good news on the poetry front. Cause & Effect magazine will publish one of my poems in their August 2008 Issue #10. Payment is a free copy of the magazine my poem publishes in. (better then a kick in the

I also received a rejection from another editor but he sent me the nicest personal note including well wishes for my kids. I will try harder to submit a better group to him next fall when their submissions are open again.

Have a great weekend!


Friday, May 23, 2008

More "Up North" Photos

I am here, but my brain is still north,
in the woods where life seems purer,
each breath savored like a swallow of red
I hold it in, save me from drowning.

Monday, May 19, 2008

Daughter Poem

Just A Girl

A daughter flower
bloomed at sunrise,
moody clouds
shade her petals.

Each month
that new leaf blossoms,
on the opposite side
of the branch,
just below the one
that came before.

The moist air rise
mists only so far
as a condensed layer
will allowance.

She is boned to bear
his understanding inside,
of the weight
it takes to spark steel.

Shes durable,
plenty sandpaper
to make the wood
sliver smooth.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Son Poem

The Other Side

Young son, labeled,
as if with glue,
held in place
to look at, observe.
They have stuck him
in an enclosed classroom,
where every day
is special,
emotional control
weighted on top
of all else.

Fifteen children,
each the same
but different,
each very special
in their own way.
Three teachers,
highly trained
in methods of restraint;
of how to depress
the unpeeled.
I was also different,
the only single father
there, my delicate balance,
learning the art
of holding on.

We converse often,
each of us has a side.
I would inform
of all the negatives
that happened at home.
They would state
all the positives
that occurred at school.
We all have thoughts
that cling inside,
that are kept hidden,
about what is beneath;
the part adhering
to what is shown,
the part none of us
are able to see.

... remembering those more difficult times during his elementary school days five or six years ago.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

A little brag

I was just informed yesterday from a newbie publishing company the my poem entered in their Poetry Contest has placed runner up (2nd place). I can't give any details yet as the press release hasn't been published yet. It comes with a nice cash payment and publication in the Fall 2008.

They said I came oh so close to placing first, but second is better then nothing. I'll take it with honor. I am happy as I have been on a mini streak of rejections of late (3 in a row).


Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Monday, May 12, 2008

Issue 9 of Clockwise Cat

On Sunday, Issue 9 of Clockwise Cat dropped with two of my poems on board.


Thursday, May 8, 2008

Wax Wings (poem - butterfly - smiles)

She waits
for the sun slide
between cotton sheets
to flutter then feed.
A glow meander
atop bloom’s blossom
his nectar terrific,
dawn the pollen gown.
The department of colour
flows down her throat
spreading out in streams,
delight extravagant
glistens to the tip
of each wing.

Saturday, May 3, 2008