“The Sure Shot”

Posted on September 2, 2026 by Bard of the Avenue

“The Sure Shot” by AJA Louden

She cannot know what this small life will become.

Unheard yet—the child’s first cry

Nor the sound of a voice softly calling her “Mother”

This Cupid Virgin Mary, who flies with Hermes’ feet

Brings her own message of faith

As she rises above the scorched, black earth

Dotted with satellites and solar panels.

She draws her bow without hesitation, her aim sure and steady

Not knowing the sorrow or grief that lies ahead

Or the ground upon which it will fall

The arrow of faith wings its’ way into the future

Bringing with it the power and the love of two hearts beating as one.

“let’s heal the divide”

Posted on August 5, 2026 by Bard of the Avenue

Sign created by Toni Latour (used with permission)

Homelessness, helplessness, heartlessness

Our Province, our Country, our Land

Let’s heal the divide.

Diversity City, so pretty,

Standing awash in a prism of colours of gender and race

Of skin and of face

Extending a hand

Let’s heal the divide.

Fly the flag, proudly, loudly

As this challenge over fills us and wills us

To heal the divide,

Heal the Divide

through me.

Tell Me What You See

Posted on July 17, 2026 by Bard of the Avenue

God built you a beautiful face
Brick by brick.
As building blocks are a passion for you
You and your Lego smile
Creating a wall of face, this wall of grace
With mortar moving silently
As your bright eyes gaze around, when no one is watching.
Tell me what you see…
A twisted penny, an empty piece of tin foil, a grimy grocery cart with rusty wheels
Your eyes search for something wonderful to cradle in your sight
One lone yellow dandelion colours the landscape
Yet you find your delight in the arc of a rainbow
Translucent as dew reflecting your eyes.

I Howl Instead of Saying “Hallelujah”

Posted on December 17, 2020 by Bard of the Avenue

I Howl Instead of Saying “Hallelujah”

This day, I want to talk

to say something beautiful or wise.

Instead, I imagine that I am a fox,

my own inner animal.

I am running through a dark forest at night

Snow dripping from the firs

There’s a silence so deep that I can feel it in my bones

I can only breathe in short gasps

My insides are screaming, blood pounding,

when I finally reach the top of a cliff

where a sliver of moon dimly lights my way.

I stand still and blink in the darkness.

Here, there is air and space and time and madness—and then I howl…

the air coming out as white as snow on a Bethlehem night.

But this night—I howl, instead of saying “Hallelujah” to God

Zoom-Zoom

Posted on May 16, 2020 by Bard of the Avenue

Yesterday afternoon, many of us on Alberta Avenue were keeping watch for the Canadian Forces Snowbirds Aerobatic Team fly-by and we were not disappointed. “Operation Inspiration” fly on!

Here they come!

Closer!

Leaving rivers of Santa’s white whiskers behind

Zoom-Zoom

Sonic Boom

Hearts Bloom

Snowbirds embrace us all

As they fly

Hope glinting through

Leaving

Rivers of Santa’s white whiskers behind

A gift

in the summer sky.

With Love, From Edmonton

Posted on May 10, 2020 by Bard of the Avenue

At 5 a.m. this morning, I am thinking of my daughter. She is an R.N. at one of the city hospitals in Edmonton and she is no stranger to 5 a.m. Work for her starts at 6:15. This poem in a pandemic, is for her and for all of our front line workers, who go to work daily, risking their lives for the rest of us.

Painting on Alberta Avenue by AJA Louden (used with permission)

With Love, From Edmonton

The door clicks behind you in the otherwise sleeping building,

You head for the LRT—another day.

A bus goes by with one soul on board headed into the dark of morning

where “It” waits, invisible.

The news shows a mass murder in Nova Scotia, a flood in Fort McMurray,

I try to turn down the knob on my trauma channel

Dial down the Red Zone.

Two chickadees on the feeder steady me.

Over my mound of potato chips, the cashier tells another COVID joke

The City guy comes by to pick up our blue bag

“Hey, thanks!” I yell.

“No problem, have a good day!” comes back to me.

Social distancing, blue bag distancing, chickadee distancing…

It’s all at a distance now.

Inhaling a global breath of wind,

I taste the air, feeling it deep in my lungs

Then exhale.

My pen skips along the page trying to explain,

trying to tell a tale of you.

At work, you are the soft voice that speaks of many things

Of patients and PPE

Of masks and methodologies

You, who glimpse the invisible.

Your phone vibrates

It’s another R.N. friend who is running a COVID testing site in B.C.

Your hands, dry as sandpaper, with all the washing,

Touch the screen—catching another Kitty video on your break.

Yet, at the end of the day, you create the Genesis of a song

Of fearless fighters in the rain

Of hope amid the pain

Diminished, yet more

We all want to sing your song

this Edmonton sing-a-long—of love.

(Mother’s Day 2020)

Grieve This Day on Golden Pond

Posted on April 11, 2018 by Bard of the Avenue

Front Porch Memorial on Alberta Avenue

As I write this poem, days after the Humboldt Broncos hockey team bus crash in Saskatchewan, my heart and all of the hearts here on Alberta Avenue, go out to those who are grieving today.

Grieve This Day on Golden Pond

“Prayers for Humboldt”

“Shattered Lives”

All signs of the times today

Grief unimaginable

Flying flags half-mast.

Yet, heart to heart and hand in hand

We reach around the World.

Green and yellow and golden threads embroider

this time, this day, this hour, now yours.

Your green lives in the prairie grasses,

Your yellow glows in the never-fading light

Bright yellow hair ruffled by a new wind,

Blows across this golden pond of ice

Forever binding us

Broncos strong.

Faces on a Wall

Posted on March 17, 2018 by Bard of the Avenue

Hello everyone!

Welcome back to Bard of the Avenue.

When I took this picture; painted on the side of the Nina Haggerty Centre for the Arts and the Stollery Gallery on 118th. Avenue; I was struck by the silent, unmoving, unnaturalness of a rigid face, a face not in motion; not alive. I was intrigued by the idea of faces on a wall and I wrote this poem.

Faces on a Wall

Tell me a story, young faces of glory

An act on this brick stage.

Emoji stones faces, erases

A blink, a wink, a pout, a rage

Blow me a kiss- I miss.

Granite brow without wrinkles, or crinkles

The rain pouring down never falters – never alters

This page.

Ghost Bikes

Posted on March 5, 2018 by Bard of the Avenue

Hello All!

I wanted to write a poem about the ghost bike which was placed at the intersection of 96th. Street and Norwood Blvd. in Edmonton last November. It stands as a stark reminder of the death of a city cyclist, killed in an early morning hit and run, and is the work of the Edmonton Bicycle Commuters Society.

Poetry from Alberta Avenue

“The Sure Shot” by AJA Louden

I Howl Instead of Saying “Hallelujah”

This day, I want to talk

to say something beautiful or wise.

Instead, I imagine that I am a fox,

my own inner animal.

I am running through a dark forest at night

Snow dripping from the firs

There’s a silence so deep that I can feel it in my bones

I can only breathe in short gasps

My insides are screaming, blood pounding,

when I finally reach the top of a cliff

where a sliver of moon dimly lights my way.

I stand still and blink in the darkness.

Here, there is air and space and time and madness—and then I howl…

the air coming out as white as snow on a Bethlehem night.

But this night—I howl, instead of saying “Hallelujah” to God

Yesterday afternoon, many of us on Alberta Avenue were keeping watch for the Canadian Forces Snowbirds Aerobatic Team fly-by and we were not disappointed. “Operation Inspiration” fly on!

Zoom-Zoom

Sonic Boom

With Love, From Edmonton

The door clicks behind you in the otherwise sleeping building,

You head for the LRT—another day.

A bus goes by with one soul on board headed into the dark of morning

where “It” waits, invisible.

The news shows a mass murder in Nova Scotia, a flood in Fort McMurray,

I try to turn down the knob on my trauma channel

Dial down the Red Zone.

Two chickadees on the feeder steady me.

Over my mound of potato chips, the cashier tells another COVID joke

The City guy comes by to pick up our blue bag

“Hey, thanks!” I yell.

“No problem, have a good day!” comes back to me.

Social distancing, blue bag distancing, chickadee distancing…

It’s all at a distance now.

Inhaling a global breath of wind,

I taste the air, feeling it deep in my lungs

Then exhale.

My pen skips along the page trying to explain,

trying to tell a tale of you.

At work, you are the soft voice that speaks of many things

Of patients and PPE

Of masks and methodologies

You, who glimpse the invisible.

Your phone vibrates

It’s another R.N. friend who is running a COVID testing site in B.C.

Your hands, dry as sandpaper, with all the washing,

Touch the screen—catching another Kitty video on your break.

Yet, at the end of the day, you create the Genesis of a song

Of fearless fighters in the rain

Of hope amid the pain

Diminished, yet more

We all want to sing your song

this Edmonton sing-a-long—of love.

(Mother’s Day 2020)

Front Porch Memorial on Alberta Avenue

As I write this poem, days after the Humboldt Broncos hockey team bus crash in Saskatchewan, my heart and all of the hearts here on Alberta Avenue, go out to those who are grieving today.

Grieve This Day on Golden Pond

“Prayers for Humboldt”

“Shattered Lives”

All signs of the times today

Grief unimaginable

Flying flags half-mast.

Yet, heart to heart and hand in hand

We reach around the World.

Green and yellow and golden threads embroider

this time, this day, this hour, now yours.

Your green lives in the prairie grasses,

Your yellow glows in the never-fading light

Bright yellow hair ruffled by a new wind,

Blows across this golden pond of ice

Forever binding us

Broncos strong.

Hello everyone!

Welcome back to Bard of the Avenue.

Faces on a Wall

Tell me a story, young faces of glory

An act on this brick stage.

Emoji stones faces, erases