• Poetry,  Writing

    Where I Stand On Poetry

    by A bunch of years ago now, a friend tried to convince me to broaden my definition of poetry. On the surface of things, she was slightly successful. I’d taken the position that poetry has to rhyme. I didn’t really mean that and gave her that point in my opening salvo. Poetry doesn’t have to rhyme, but it does have to have structure. Now, before someone gets upset and starts an angry email about free verse and how it’s the epitome of poetry, I’ll remind you that you’re entirely free to enjoy what you enjoy and use whatever definition you’d like. But you’re not going to convince me. Part of…

  • Opinion,  Poetry

    Why Does the Gun Come First?

    by Why does the gun Come first for some? I see a Taser and baton And Pepper spray – where have they gone? And does no one teach unarmed techniques? Are the lines so blurred? Where are the words? No thought for de-escalation Shouldn’t that be the foundation To show you care That you’re aware Of more than just the power in your hand? That you understand There are better ways to make your mark Than to crush the life from glowing sparks by

  • Poetry

    My Country

    by Is my country in the clear?Do we speak against the fear?Are we better than the rest?Our vision truly best? Or is our historyA darker mysteryFilled with not-so-secret shamesSo many forgotten namesAnd things we’ve no wish to see? Is it better to pretendThere’s no need to extendOur thoughts and hearts and mindsKnowing that we’d find?We aren’t nearly as kindAs we want to believeAnd so we don’t conceiveThat we can still improveBecause there are mountains yet to move And more than mountains. I wrote that at almost the same time as “America Is Burning” but kept it a separate piece because it’s a separate, if related, thing. I wrote it knowing…

  • Opinion,  Poetry,  Uncategorized

    America Is Burning

    by I’m not seeing it as much on Mainstream Media as I was a week ago, but it’s still all over my social media and independent services. Protests, anger, people whose eyes are finally open to the racism all around us. Spread across the world. Eight minutes and 46 seconds. I live in Canada and we often pride ourselves on how much better we are than the States when it comes to pretty much every social issue you want to name. Better isn’t the same as good, though, and you can find plenty of news stories just in the past week to show that we have a lot of the…

  • Poetry,  Writing

    One Saturday Afternoon As I Was Kidnapped by Aliens

    by I go through major phases where I flirt with poetry. In the last few years, that’s mostly been expressed as haiku, a form I appear to be having a serious love affair with, but I’ve worked with all kinds of different forms and lengths. A few years ago, I set out to compose an epic poem using the title of this post. It was going to be grand, sweeping, heroic, and tell a tale in iambic tetrameter. It began like so: In late July, the summer breeze Stirring gently through the trees, Brings the scent of last bloomed rose And grass crushed ‘tween unclad toes. High above, in sky…

  • Poetry

    Haiku on Friday

    by So there are times when I’m a haiku addict, and while I mean more writing than reading, there are several books in the house and I have a twitter stream saved that I can skim whenever I feel the need. That stream gives me a cross section from incredible to cringe, but it’s always worth the read. Often, it gives me haiku in different languages; while I can usually work out the French ones, everything else needs a little Google Translate assist when I’m in the mood. All that said, I write a lot of haiku. It’s certainly the lion’s share of my poetry in recent years. Right now,…

  • Life,  Poetry

    Friday Poetry for 15 December 2017

    by Another from the deep vault, the date on this silly piece, according to the original file, is 02 November 1999, and it concerns possibly the greatest food ever created, pizza. Once, years before this poem, while a university student, I ate pizza for twenty-three (that’s 23) consecutive meals. Oh, not all from the same pizzeria, and not all with the same toppings, and not all at the same temperature. It is, it is, a glorious thing to be the pizza king.   Ah, pizza Food of the gods But no other food Puts more people at odds Anchovies, sausages Mushrooms and cheese Onions, green peppers Pineapple, chick peas Toppings…

  • Poetry

    Friday Poetry for 08 December 2017

    by From the vault. The note in the original file is that it’s on the occasion of my almost ten-month-old son’s third cold. He’ll be turning 19 shortly.   Few things shake your soul Like a baby with a cold Pick me up, put me down Turn me over, turn me around Go away, come here, go away No, wait, I want you to stay I’m tired, can’t sleep I’m hungry, won’t eat I’m thirsty, won’t drink Just pour the milk down the sink Short naps in the bed Rub my tummy, rub my head Daddy’s tired, needs a rest Mama-mama (likes her best) Cry and scream, scream and cry…

  • Poetry

    Friday Poetry

    by Words strewn across a page Can capture any age Express random thoughts Show battles won or fought A moment set in time An image held in mind Encourage ideas Share hopes and dreams and fears Persuade or strike a blow Or merely say hello Any voice can be heard By simple, printed word by

  • Poetry

    Friday Poetry – A Blank Verse Sonnet

    by Tell me again how there’s no global warming. Oh right, we’re supposed to say climate change. I see, it was cold where you are today, And god is taking care of everything. Sorry? It’s warm and it’s supposed to be? Well, of course, you must still be correct then. What difference a few billion humans, A few thousand years of shaping the world? Isn’t it nice to live consequence-free And know nothing you do really matters? Your kids will inherit the same old world, Still turning the same as it always has. But if you’re wrong, maybe clean up a bit? Or at least try not to shit where…