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My Canadian Chronicles 11

He laid there on a stool
his eyes watching my every move
as I sat at the table and wrote.
He looked aloof
as he looked at me,
an Egyptian Prince of Royalty.
His fawn coloured coat
not a spindle of fur out of place
and his tail of irregular stripes.
When I moved he moved and waited
for me to stroke him.
As I did, he gave out a short cry
more, more, more.

10 June 2009

poem by David Harris
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The Marvelous Toy

When I was just a wee little lad, full of health and joy
My father homeward came one night and gave to me a toy.
A wonder to behold it was with many colors bright
And the moment I laid eyes on it, it became my hearts delight.
It went zip when it moved and bop when it stopped whirrrrr when it stood
Still
I never knew just what it was and I guess I never will.
The first time that I picked it up I had a big surprise.
For right on its bottom were two big buttons that looked like big green eyes.
I first pushed one and then the other, then I twisted its lid.
And when I set it down again, this is what it did.
It went zip when it moved and bop when it stopped whirrrrr when it stood still
I never knew just what it was and I guess I never will.
It first marched left and then marched right, then marched under a chair
And when I looked where it had gone it wasnt even there.
I started to cry but my daddy laughed cause he knew that I would find.
When I turned around my marvelous toy would be chugging from behind.
It went zip when it moved and bop when it stopped and whirrrrr when it stood
Still
I never knew just what it was and I guess I never will.
The years have gone by too quickly it seems, I have my own little boy.
And yesterday I gave to him my marvelous little toy
His eyes nearly popped right out of his head and he gave a squeal of glee...
Neither one of us knows just what it is but he loves it just like me.
It still goes zip when it moves and bop when it stops, whirrrrr when it
Stands still
I never knew just what it was and I guess I never will.

song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Shall Not Be Moved

You will take my breath away,
Gild my heart with your love-
I shall not be moved.

My eyes will gloat at your sashay,
My lips will droll at your pulchritude-
I shall not be moved.

You will come with religions of faiths,
A heap of mountains you have moved-
Still I shall not be moved.

You will give me strongest of philtres,
Your touch will erect my one weakness-
But I shall not be moved.

You will light my darkest paths,
Move me here to there-
Yet I shall not be moved.

You will sing our song,
Your love for me will exceed eternity,
Even then, I shall not be moved.

You will live for me,
Die for me- For the last time-
I shall not be moved.

poem by Isunge Mwangase
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And I Was Moved

They came running down the road
like something resembling
a stampeding Buffalo herd.
“There he is! ” Someone shouted.
I looked around to see
whom they were shouting about,
but there was no one, only me.
I looked again as the pens came out.
“Let’s get his autograph! ”
And I was moved,
moved so much I started to run
towards them, arms open wide.
And I was moved again,
being carried along by the herd.
“It is him! It’s Robbie Williams! ”
Now who the heck is he?
I though it was Dodgy Dave’s autograph they wanted,
but no it was only in my dreams I’m afraid.

5 July 2008

poem by David Harris
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Chivalry

I saw you across the room
and my heart stopped.

You noticed
and I looked away.

I saw you across the room
this time you didn't see
me looking at you.

I moved my eyes
across the all of you
moved my lips
feeling my breath stop.

'Beautiful' I thought
'just a beautiful man'

Not supposed to notice
all the pretty men,
not if you're a bit older:
but pretty I still am
and I want to know
if younger men know;

If I can still attract
a look
still get noticed;
even admired.

Or am I now invisible
to any young man
under 25?

A critical point
in every woman's life
where the line between
younger and older lies.

I move
to catch your line of sight
just to see if your eye
would linger long enough
to make me understand
you wanted a second look.

You glanced
but then glanced away.

I decided for another try
and stood behind
so that if you moved
you encounter me
and I'd dropp my notepad.

Why pass 35
do I
still need to be admired
by younger men?

You moved and my pad dropped.

And with little or no eye-contact,

you picked it up
with a smile
and gave it back.

I bobbed my head
moved on
felled by
indifferent
chivalry
and passage
into
the Older Woman Category.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Lover And The Gamber

She sat on a bar stool,
her long legs dangling there,
drinking a coloured mix,
they called The Country Fair.

He sat at a table,
deck of cards in his hand,
laying them down for a game of solitaire,
the lover and the gambler.

For a brief few seconds,
as they looked around,
their eyes met in sweet seduction,
in that smoky bar downtown.

As the evening wore,
and customers began to leave,
it just left the two of them there,
the lover and the gambler.

Now if he played his cards,
close to his chest,
maybe with a bit of luck,
love would do the rest.

They looked again,
with a long lingering look.
She joined him at the table,
watched the hand that he dealt.

Each card was a heart;
cupid caught them both that night.
For now the lover and the gambler,
are now man and wife.

poem by David Harris
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Baylitz's Wife And A Game Of Chess

Baylitz's wife served you snacks and booze
while you played chess in the lounge

at the small table set aside for games
and you watched her come and go

the swaying of her hips
the well crafted thighs

beneath the dress
the way her hands held the tray

her eyes green as emeralds
searching you as she laid it down

watch your bishop
Baylitz said

but in your imagination
you were already undressing his wife

for bed letting fall her dress
and bra and underwear

of flamingo pink or soft sky blue
you've left your castle well exposed

Baylitz muttered
his fingers over the piece

waiting there to pounce
you made a protective move

and he smiled and studied the board
as his wife stood by the window looking out

your eyes moved over her frame
caught in the sun's light

imagining her beneath you
in their broad bed

her lips on your chest
ah you've sacrificed your pawn too easy

Baylitz said and swooped in
for the kill of your piece

by his black bishop
you sat back in the chair

gave a sad expression
your eyes touching his wife's soft flesh

your king's in danger
Baylitz said

and your eyes moved back to the board
and studied Baylitz's fingers

lingering murderously
but too late

he moved in for the kill
checkmate

he stated
you sighed

and looked at his wife
who pulled a face

you sat
your dream of sex and love

stilled in frozen frame
another time maybe

Baylitz said
ok

you replied
unfulfilled.

poem by Terry Collett
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Marvelous Toy

When I was just a wee little boy.
Full of health and joy.
One Christmas morning I received
A marvelous little toy.
A wonder to be hold it was
Many colours bright.
And the moment I layed eyes on it
It became my heart's delight.
It went "zzzip" when it moved,
"Bopp" when it stopped,
"Brrr" when it stood still.
I never knew just what it was
And I guess I never will.
The first time that I picked it up.
I had a big surprise.
For right on it's bottom
Were two green buttons
That looked like big green eyes.
I first pushed one.
And then the other.
And then I pushed on its lid.
And when I set it down again
This is what it did.
It went "zzzip" when it moved,
"Bopp" when it stopped,
"Brrr" when it stood still.
I never knew just what it was
And I guess I never will.
It first marched left.
Then marched right
And then marched under a chair.
And when I looked where it had gone
It wasn't even there.
I started to cry.
My daddy laughed.
He knew that I would find.
When I turned around my marvelous toy
Chugging from behind.
It went "zzzip" when it moved,
"Bopp" when it stopped,
"Brrr" when it stood still.
I never knew just what it was
And I guess I never will.
Well, the years have passed
Too quickly it seems.
I have my own little boy.
And yesterday I gave to him
My marvelous little toy.
His eyes nearly popped
right out of his head.
He gave the squeal of glee
Neither one of us knows just what it is,
But he loves it just like me.
It still goes "zzzip" when it moves,
"Bopp" when it stoppes,
"Brrr" when it stands still.
I never knew just what it was
And I guess I neve

song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the spirit of rumi - 9

O My Beloved

I looked for You
everywhere, and in all things;

I looked for You
in all that lives, in all that moves;

I looked for You
in bodies, minds, and hearts;

I looked for You
in beauty, goodness, truth;

You had been in all these things
but had moved on..

I could not find You in the seen;
then found You in the seeing,

O My Beloved

poem by Michael Shepherd
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On That Very Day

That very day

I died on that very day
When I turned eyes and went away
I cared for no one and just walked
Where as on seminars I had lot more talked

He was lying on the road
May be he was pulling lots of load
It was hand pulled cart
It was his routine and part

It was blazing sun on top
The heat waves were non top
Yet he had raced against time
I presumed he wanted to reach early sometimes

Luck would not have played favorably
He failed to pull more and failed miserably
The road became his last bed
There was not even little shed

I wanted to cry but could not
As I had ceaselessly carried on and fought
But ultimately nothing desired was brought
All attempts had failed and nothing could be sought

I waited for a minute and gave little glimpse
Cursed his fate but prayed sacred verse
Why almighty not gave enough courage to reach an end?
Where else one can wait for to have an honest friend?

When I looked back and thought of same fate?
The mercy totally failed me or came very late
How many may be facing death unceremoniously?
Where life was uncertain and still moved on continuously

I failed to show little courtesy and moved on
The battle was to be waged and shown
I could help nothing even if wanted
As I myself was short of but could have waited

Did I prove coward for turning back?
Certainly yes as it was humanity at stake
How many of us may have preferred as I did
What else we could provide or offered lead?

Leave no one unattended even if you nothing
Some solace to self and to him for something
Some message of great human like quality
Taken along journey despite clear inability

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Promise

A change of mind has moved around
Takes me back to when we met
Forever moved a promise kept
This all implies I dont believe how this would be for
To be with you
Watching your eyes
I can see it in your eyes
Away go away
To be by your side
I travel all night
Away go away
Concept conceived to let me down
And when you leave I can never make my mind up
Were on the move removed too far
Your way of life
Its only me Im not deceived at all
To be with you
Watching your eyes
I can see it in your eyes
Away go away
To be by your side
I travel all night
Away go away
So far from me to be the same
Ill try again Im here alone
I shant forget I feel this way
And all the time you can dance until we meet again
To be with you
Watching your eyes
I can see it in your eyes
Away go away
To be by your side
I travel all night
Away go away
To be by your side
I travel all night
Away go away
To be by your side
I travel all night

song performed by by Omd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Bob.

Old Bob lived
in a cardboard box

under the stairs.
Don’t feed the mutt,

Granny said.
But you did, often,

with scraps from the table
or broken biscuits

from the battered tin
that Gran kept

on the lower shelf.
Bob was a short haired

fawn dog with eyes
like dark plump plums.

He’d snarl or growl
if anyone got too near

or touched his bowl,
except you; you he’d let

into his box and lick
your five year old face

and allow you to stroke
or hug or touch his tail.

He’d bark, snarl and growl
his dislike of humanity;

you, however, he seemed
to love, somehow.

poem by Terry Collett
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A Girl From Nowhere

The electric blue of a lightning sky
lit up the country lane momentarily.
She walked alone
with her scarf blowing in the wind
and her clothes soaked from the light rain.
But who was she and where was she?
She did not know.
Her eyes scanned everything
looking for something she recognised.
There was nothing there and she kept walking.

A crack of thunder startled her.
She jumped and looked around.
Lights of a car lit up the hedgerows
as it raced towards her.
She moved to one side
to allow it to pass.
The driver braked abruptly
along side of her.
The passenger window
wound itself down.
The driver smiled
out from the interior of the car.

“Are you all right miss? ”
The voice was low and warm.
She felt immediately
that she could trust it.
She looked in with large innocent eyes.
“Can you help me?
I cannot remember who I am or where I am.
The passenger door swung open.
“I think you had better get in.”

Cautiously she moved towards the car.
She climbed onto the passenger seat
and closed the door.
She glanced across
at her Good Samaritan.
“Thank you.” She whispered
as the car purred and moved forwards.
“There is a Police Station
about five miles ahead.
I will take you there;
they should be able to help you.”

She looked at him
as the car raced through
the quickly darkening lane.
“Haven’t you got a handbag? ”
He asked glancing across at her.
“Handbag? What is that? ”
“Where you keep your personal possessions in.”
She looked at him with a questioning look;
it was as if he was talking a strange language.
“My name is Jim Middleton.”
He said in his low warm voice.

She looked at him again
as the hedge rows disappeared
and streetlights and buildings
began to appear.
Scattered at first,
then more and more
as they moved into the town.
He stopped outside the Police Station.
He smiled. “We are here.”
Switching off the engine, he opened the door
and walked around the car.
He opened the door
to escort her into the station.
He stood mouth opened.
She was not there.

poem by David Harris
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What Max Wanted

What do you want from me?
Max's wife said

and he looked by her
at the waitress

at the cafe
who was walking

with some order
behind his wife's back

and he noticed
the cute ass as she moved

the way she swayed
and the hands

holding the tray
huh? What is it

you want from me?
his wife repeated

her eyes peering at him
taking in

that aspect of him
as he turned his head

look said Max
following the waitress

to the table across the way
his eyes slowly

undressing her
his mind making up scenes

like in some movie
you say come on Honey

let's go out for a meal
and talk

and what are you doing
looking elsewhere

and not talking
his wife said

spittle on her lower lip
Max looked back

at his wife and said
oh yes sure

I was thinking
of the Picasso print

we saw the other day
you know that one

we both liked
and you said you'd like it

for your birthday
well maybe

I ought to get it
what do you think?

And the waitress
looked over at Max

as she went by
and he saw

a whole new ball game
in her eyes

and caught the cheek
and ear

and was sure
he captured some aspect

of her perfume
and his wife said

Picasso?
That Picasso?

are you sure Max?
and she went into a daze

and smiled
and Max imagined himself

and the waitress
and sex games

and a party
going wild.

poem by Terry Collett
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Move On

Some chickens crossed the road, straying far from the hen
Five reached the side one step below zen
One was a female, four were mad-men
Who moved on, moved on move on
Standing in line and falling asleep
Building a fence while were counting the sheep
Wed let you help out but our projects are too deep
Move on, move on, move on
You have to understand that when it comes
To making music
We meshed the styles of five alive and
Intertwined and fused it
Life comes from life and through our strife we
Strove to make the sound true
Compelled to spell it out, in search
Of what we must do
Our house was to small so we had to move
The neighbors had much doubts so we had to prove
That our soulful dimensions were true to the groove
We, moved on, moved on, moved on
Water the music, plant the seeds in the pot
Music is life flowing through... is it not?
Dont forget your roots, but also dont rot
Just move on, move on, move on dont be afraid, let your feelings show
Wear your heart on your sleeve, and let yourself glow

song performed by by Gwen Stefani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Summer Recess of 62.

It was the second day
of the summer recess
and Judith and you
walked through the field

behind her house
and sat down on the grass
the sky above blue
like an upside-down ocean

with the white clouds
like small fluffy islands
and she said
Mother doesn't trust you

why not?
you asked
she doesn't trust any male
she says they're all after

the one thing
you looked at her
sitting there beside you
her hair brown and curly

and her eyes blue
and bright
and you said
not all males

are the same
she looked up
at the sky
and said

I know but that's
how she sees things
my mother likes you
you said

she says you're good for me
keep me focused
she smiled
and lay back

on the grass
and you lay
beside her
and turned

to look at her there
taking in her profile
and she turned
to face you

and she said
does your mother
trust us to be together?
sure she does

you said
an airplane
went over the sky
a sparrow hawk

hovered above
its eyes watching
and waiting
you put your hand

on her hip
and she placed
her hand on yours
you felt her hipbone

beneath her green skirt
moved your palm
gently over and over
she moved your hand

off of her hip
and said
just in case
mother's looking at us

from the upstairs window
would she?
you asked
of course

she said
she held your hand
and took it
and laid it

on her breast
her heart
somewhere beating
your hand sensing

the softness beneath
the white blouse
and she said
just as well

she never saw us
last Christmas
and you smiled
and remembered

and the sparrow hawk
flew off through the sky
and the sound
of a distant train

and your heart thumping
like the downpour of rain.

poem by Terry Collett
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Fay and You and The Fading Bruise

Fay met you
at the bus stop
on the New Kent Road
she was dressed

in the lemon coloured dress
you liked
and her hair
was pulled tight

into a ponytail
where are you going?
she asked
to the Globe

you said
what Shakespeare's Globe?
she asked
no the fleapit cinema

at Camberwell Green
you replied
oh
she said

I've never been there
my daddy doesn't like
me going to cinemas
he says they're

dens of sin
she looked at you
as if you would confirm
her father's words

well it's certainly a den
you stated
but whether its
of sin I don't know

she looked puzzled
and touched
her ponytail
with her hand

are you coming along?
you asked
she looked about
as if her father

might be behind her
should I?
she asked
do you want to?

yes
she replied
then let's go
but I haven't any money

she said
I have enough
you said
my Mother gave me money

for chores I did
oh I see
she muttered
and she bit her lip

what would my daddy say
if he saw me?
he won't
how can you be so sure?

trust me
you said
fathers know little
of what their kids do

she smiled
if you think so
she said
sure I do

besides it'll
do you good
you said
giving her a smile

and then the bus came
and you both got on
and sat next
to each other

and you paid
the bus conductor
the fare
and as the bus

moved off
you both swayed
to the motion
of the bus

her arm touching yours
the fading bruise
on her flesh
a mixture of yellow

and brown
and blue
but you said nothing
besides you thought

if her old man
beats her
what the hell
can I do?

poem by Terry Collett
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Girl In Park

Girl in the Park

In the park I saw my dog Bambi, she was playing with
another dog that belonged to a girl who sat in the grass.
Bambi didn’t see me she had a glossy coat, and looked
beautiful, so I waited for her to see me and come over.
The girl was of no interest, looked as a black & white
photo taken with box camera 1950, I didn’t see her face.
She got up and walked into a café its door was open but
the entrance had a curtain of fake pearls that sounded as
of water in a stream, when moved. The park was empty
and there was no ducks in it dark pond. I walked into
the café, it was empty too; the owner was reading
a paper I asked if he had seen a girl with two dogs, he
said dogs were not allowed in his café, and continued to
read and for no reason at all I sat down and cried.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Waiting By The School Gates

Look who's over
by the school gates
Reynard said
and you looked over

and there was Christina
with her school bag
over her shoulder
and her hands tucked

in the pockets
of her green coat
see you tomorrow
Reynard said

and walked on
giving Christina a stare
as he did most girls
finding them an enigma

yet to be solved
when you got
to where Christina was
she took her hands

out of her pockets
and put a hand
on your arm
I wish I was going

on the school bus
with you
then I could sit next to you
and I could tell you

about myself
and not have to cram
everything into a rush
of words as I do

at school
you looked over
to where the school bus
was waiting

you still had
five minutes
or so before
it took off

and you knew
Fred the driver
always did
a head count

before hand
don't you wish
I was there
on the bus too?

she asked
squeezing your arm
with her fingers
you turned

and looked at her
sure I do
you said
but you live here

and I live miles away
I know
she said
and I miss you

once your bus goes off
and I know
I won't see you
until the following day

and the weekend is worse
because then
I don't see you
for two whole days

other kids
passing through
the school gates
stared at you both

and Hill said
come on
or you'll miss
the bus

and he laughed
and moved on
and Christina stared
after him and said

what's his problem?
and you said
oh he hasn't been born yet
he gets this way

and she laughed
and said
maybe I'll come
on the country bus

to your village
and we can meet?
sure that'd be good
you said

and her eyes lit up
and she smiled
and leaned
towards you

and gave your cheek
a peck
and you said
look I got to go

and you took her hand
and gave it
a quick kiss
then turned

and walked quickly
towards the bus
knowing her eyes
were following

your every step
and that maybe
she dreamed
of you at night

and imagined you
beside her
and her dolls
and Teddy Bear

and you in turn
maybe imagined
at night
you too were there.

poem by Terry Collett
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Man In The Long Black Coat

Crickets are chirpin, the water is high
Theres a soft cotton dress on the line hangin dry
The windows wide open, african trees
Bent over backwards from a hurricane breeze
Not a word of goodbye, not even a note
Shed gone with the man in the long black coat
Somebody seen him hangin around
At the old dance hall on the outskirts of town
He looked into her eyes when she stopped him to ask
If he wanted to dance, he had a face like a mask
Somebody said from the Bible hed quote
There was dust on the man in the long black coat
Preacher was a-talkin, theres a sermon he gave
He said every mans conscience is vile and depraved
You cannot depend on it to be your guide
When its you who must keep it satisfied
It aint easy to swallow, it sticks in the throat
She gave her heart to the man in the long black coat
There are no mistakes in life, some people say
And its true sometimes, you can see it that way
But people dont live or die, people just float
She went with the man in the long black coat
Theres smoke on the water, its been there since june
Treetrunks uprooted neath the high crescent moon
Feel the pulse and vibration and the rumblin force
Somebody is out there beating on a dead horse
She never said nothin, there was nothin she wrote
Shed gone with the man in the long black coat

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Afternnon that Summer.

Despite the fact
that other local kids

were in the hay barn playing
Jane stood at the barn doors

looking in apprehensively
and you stood beside her

waiting for her to move in
or say something

but she just stood looking in
are we allowed in to play?

she asked
sure as long as we don't

cause damage to the hay bales
you replied

and she sniffed the air
and moved in

and looked around
the huge barn

with its semi dark
and smells of hay

and captured sun
and warmth

the other kids played
but took no notice

of Jane or you
as you entered

closed the doors
and moved around

the hay strewn floor
haven't you been

in a hay barn before?
you asked looking

at her bright summer dress
and white socks and sandals

yes years ago
she said

as she paused
at the edge

of the nearest hay bale
and sat down

and you sat beside her
in the semi dark

with sunlight making
small light through cracks

and holes in the walls
I don't like mice and rats

she said
and I saw one once

in another barn
and it frightened me

you sat in silence
for a few moments

taking in the air and smells
and then the other kids

ran off out side
into the sunlight

talking of playing
down by the pond

and catching things
you sat still

until their voices died off
and then she said

why have you
brought me in here?

you looked at her eyes
in the dull light

and her lips moving
with their small speech

to be alone with you
without prying eyes

you said
oh I see

she replied
and stood up

and climbed upwards
on the hay bales

with you following
behind her

seeing her sway
as she moved

her hands pulling
her upwards

her legs taking each step
onto a hay bale carefully

then having reach
high up in the barn

she sat down
and you sat beside her

if my father saw me here
he'd think things

Jane said
and she looked at you

with her large eyes
what things? you asked

watching her lay back
with her hands

behind her head
I don't know

he never said
she muttered

as she lay there
she lifted a leg

and her dress
slipped downwards

revealing a glimpse
of naked thigh

that's parents for you
you uttered

never saying
what they think

or saying things
but don't explain

you lay down
beside her

on the hay
as outside the barn

the soft sound
of pitter patter

on the roof
of sudden rain.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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