Looking for Wilson Tom

Sometimes I hear of people but never meet them, never shake their hand or talk to them. Their name comes up in conversation but their face remains unknown. And then they disappear from conversation, completely. I suppose this happens to everyone, but I find it curious. I knew of Wilson Tom, but not him, himself …

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LOOKING FOR WILSON TOM

they say he made smooth jazz                               
at the corner of Main and Robson
behind the Corner Hotel
where laundry trucks backfire
and cats eat garbage

but no one has seen Wilson Tom
since the last full moon

no one has heard the sax riff
he perfected at sixteen
window open for neighbours and gulls
third floor back where Burnt Billie
now plays country gospel late and fast

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an earlier version published in Apollo’s

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A Summer Father … Here is poetry … interweaving images culled from a wartime childhood with bittersweet memories of a “summer father”. Lynda Monahan

3 Spring haiku

The Greek goddess Maia is supposed to be the origin of the month of May, and was closely linked with the goddess of fertility. Which all seems fitting and right when trees are bursting their buds, flowers popping up all over, and weeds ………

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giant candle-flames                                                 
in the swamp
skunk cabbage

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field of daisies …
toddler
on the run

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riding                                   
the lawn-mower …
dandelions

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A Summer Father … poems as deceptively simple and cunning as a sniper’s bullet. This book is a Remembrance Day poppy. Dave Margoshes

From Small

I’m amazed by seeds, how small they are. When I sow them in the garden I spend time with them, roll the round radish seeds in my fingers, look closely at lettuce, tiny parsley seeds. It’s the seeds of trees that are the real miracles, so small to become to huge …

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FROM SMALL                                                 

a tree grows
out of my pocket
from one acorn

I touch branches
with my lips
suck buds
until flowers blow
through my hand
and there are
oak trees for sale

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first published in Thorny Locust

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Those Blue Shoes for ages 7-11 … Weston’s … skill in juggling time past with time present … the plot unfolds with fast-paced action, mystery, suspense and even a ghost. Joan Givner

Robin’s Egg

Spring is a time of birth. We’ve probably all found an empty bird’s egg at one time of another, which means the bird hatched and is alive. But what of those eggs with a tiny curled foetus still in it? Sadness…

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ROBIN’S EGG                                                

shining, vivid blue
in the grass -

a robin lost
to summer’s sky

its mystery
a song unheard
a flight unseen

this fragile
silence

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The Willow Tree Girl “… perfect for children in the 7-11-year-old bracket who love to read. …The characters are life-like and the plot intriguing …” Elizabeth Symon.

3 tanka

It’s Spring in the Northern Hemisphere. I’ve caught glimpses of the small joys of spring-time, flowers in bud, skipping ropes in use … and here are a few more, as tanka … Summer is in the air …

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the first green fringe                                     
on the maple tree
shorts tug
and fly
on the line

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a red plastic toy
under the bridge
in April
the river runs
brown and fast                       

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the willow repeats
its fall of branches
in still water
where children float
paper-boats in summer

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the first tanka was published in Canadian Stories
the second in American Tanka
the third in Noochbomb

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The Berry Books are perfect for 3-6 year-olds: Berry the mouse, who lives in a tree, gets into funny situations, and has to find his way out of them.

An Early Drive

Once in a while I have to be up and out early, to go to the medical clinic and, sleepy as I am, I wonder about the people in the houses I pass. Who are they? What are they doing? What are their lives?

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AN EARLY DRIVE                                                  

one light goes on
in a dark house

gulls swoop to a roof-ridge
crows circle in the gloom
a dog noses the ditch

another light
and I imagine

a sleepy arm stretch
to turn off the alarm

people getting up                                                   
taking a grip on the day
waking children
packing lunches
making coffee

home from night-shift
going to bed
as I pass     fasting
for a blood test

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A Summer Father … terse, imagistic lines; … It’s not nostalgia that we experience but quiet, poignant grief. Richard Stevenson

The Greedy Poet

This is Poetry Month! I believe poetry should be read and relished: it encourages appetite, feeds the soul, nourishes the mind, relaxes the body. The actual food is almost, almost, secondary …

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THE GREEDY POET                                         

quatrains with French toast
sprinkled with random rhyme
begin the poetic day
stirring digestive processes
to create succulent verse

for lunch:  sonnet soup                                              
with crusty sliced ghazal
then dream of dining on epic pizza
canzonet with pasta
or haiku with tomato salad
while editing triolets of herbal tea
and licking ecstasies of ode

until the final relished taste -
a box of lyrics savoured in bed

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Those Blue Shoes for ages 7-11 … Weston’s … skill in juggling time past with time present … the plot unfolds with fast-paced action, mystery, suspense and even a ghost. Joan Givner