Category Archives: Edmonton Community Poetry

Shape and Sound

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As I was walking on Alberta Avenue a few weeks ago, I noticed that some snow sculptures were still standing from the Deep Freeze Festival. Those remaining shapes got me thinking of the beginnings of a new world, and made me ask the question: if I were to envision Alberta Avenue only in shape and sound, what would that look like ? . . . . .

If I were to speak of you in only shape and sound

I’d speak of you as barking dogs and kittens upside down

As angry voices, yelling voices, baby voices too

stutters, yelps and laughter bright

I'd speak as one creating the world again as new

I’d speak as one creating the world again as new

I’d place into my stew.

Passionate

the corner voices, pleading as they drown

Teardrop lights roll down your face—

spilling all around

I’d speak as one creating, the world again as new

these shapes and sounds fill up my song

and all rejoice of you.

 

The Ave We Could Have

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February is a time of reflection for me. This is when I plan and ponder the upcoming year. As I walked on Alberta Avenue one evening, these were my thoughts. 

The Ave We Could Have

The Ave We Could Have

 

I walk upon this winter path at night

Instead of stars, it’s lit by incandescent light

No noble moon, no pale nor mystery

Cement and stone define its history

No wildlife skitter across this barren path

Just castoff paper lay in frozen aftermath

I stand reflecting beside the tow away zone

And gaze into this future Ave unknown

A twinkling crystal ball, which makes the darkness fear

A journey now begun can take us anywhere.   

Feeder

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This November we had a sudden dump of snow, after which, a hawk began to visit our yard and eat the birds coming to our feeder. Even though we live in the city, nature still sometimes exerts itself in very hostile ways.

Feeder

Feeder

 

Sparrows mob our birdfeeder,

 as such,

brittle now with winter’s touch,

when into this idyllic scene

a hawk does suddenly careen

now one less sparrow to be seen,

a shadow in the light.

A King—he glides above his realm

this feather-laden banquet table

 reminding me life’s story’s made

of blood and bone and marrow.

The Vikings are Coming, Again!

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Another “Deep Freeze” free family festival is set for this week-end, January 10-11, 2015 on Alberta Avenue in Edmonton. Join us!

“The Vikings are Coming Again!”  so watch out !

 

A golden craft of Viking lore

shipwrecked, on North Saskatchewan’s shore

would journey northward never more

—it landed with a thud!

Thus this ship with sails so bright

had travelled into its final night

landed faithful, still upright, upon this foreign shore.

Here embarked this fateful few

Norse sailors armed for battle anew

draped in skins, with swords, this crew

headed up Jasper Avenue—with Hildegard at the fore!

They needed nourishment to renew,

and dreamed of grog and venison stew

pasty inhabitants directed the crew

“Go to Alberta Avenue!”

That was enough for Hildegard’s crew

“Onward to Deep Freeze—Come on!”

Having fasted and played, the shipbuilder, Sven,

had an idea to rebuild again

he knew just the wood to use for repair

they chopped down the Christmas tree in Churchill Square!

then hauled that tree down, those Norsemen with vigor

cut into planks with their saws all aquiver.

With Sven yelling orders,

it soon was afloat

those Vikings now clambered on a boat that could float

and cheered the new land

 they were not to remain

but would they ever return again?

check it out on:  http://deepfreezefest.ca/ 

 

Poetry for Kittens

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Poetry for Kittens!

Poetry for Kittens!

We have new neighbours on Alberta Avenue, who have a delightful kitten who sits in the window, plays with the curtains and lays in the sun. When they leave the house I wondered, “what does he do all day?”

This is what I imagined…

 

I sit up here so loftily

Waiting for them to turn the key

My kingdom then is left to me

It’s poetry for kittens!

The dog’s tied up, more fun for me,

Knocking the ornaments from the tree

They crack and smash on the floor

Tee, hee

It’s poetry for kittens!

I’ve killed a mouse to impress the spouse

And put it inside the gingerbread house

 My people will love it—I’m into the souse

It’s poetry for kittens!

Ho, Ho, the fridge is not tightly closed

I push it open with furry repose

Turkey leftovers, I’ll have some of those

It’s poetry for kittens!

Someone left my laser toy on,

I’ll play with it ‘till early dawn

And find the catnip turns me on

It’s poetry for kittens!

I need no Frosty or Santa Claus to give this kitten a Christmas pause

Her nylons left out, I’ll shred with my claws

It’s poetry for kittens!

So when I’ve ate and played no end

Then shredded the pillows upon their bed

I’ll find a place to lay my head

It’s poetry for kittens!

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Merry Christmas, Santa

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On Christmas Eve

I awake early to the sound of cans and bottles tinkling

it is still dark,

but just outside our fence

where I have put the garbage for today’s pickup,

you grasp and feel

sensitive to a bottle or can thrown away.

I watch you move onto my neighbour’s garbage

with your bag of empties thrown over your shoulder

like a dark outline

of an early Santa Claus.

“We Believe in 118”

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"We Believe in 118"

“We Believe in 118”

 

The “We Believe in 118” community coalition began a sign initiative along 118 Avenue, which has  gained noticeable momentum, judging by the number of signs visible in the windows of businesses and organizations on Alberta Avenue. With the advent of Christmas, the word “believe” is highly visible. I wrote this poem as I pondered the meaning and power of this word in the Alberta Avenue community. 

 

As I walk down the Avenue,

I notice lots of signs

“walk”  “don’t walk”  “yield”

“line starts here”

I see as I pass by.

But there’s one sign that gives me pause,

I feel it through and through

“We Believe in 118”

Long live the Avenue!

“Believe” is such a simple word, a history of light,

a sign upon the Avenue, morning, noon and night.

The fates of those who slumber here, rest upon this word

like snowflakes on graffitied walks, lay upon the curb.

But a battle rages underneath, crying to be heard,

As we look forward, onward now—

whispering the word.

 

 

Problems Penning Poetry in Edmonton in Winter

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FullSizeRender

 

Dear Edmonton:

I am having problems penning poetry in Edmonton in winter.

To write poetry, one must have the use of one’s fingers,

Mine, however, are numb.

 I keep the circulation going by

 Knitting myself a new, warm, woolly cover for my pen.

Our dog, Payton, is pushing my frozen ink pot around with her nose,

Like a doggie hockey puck—

She shoots, she scores!

I am having a brain freeze, but without the benefit of ice-cream,

This is a sad turn of events, minus the Rocky Road.

I want to write, but even my muse is frozen!

My words crystallize into a confused ice sculpture of verbiage

Touching the icy edges, they melt beneath my hand,

Now turning to puddles

Then to air

Then to light.

 

 

 

 

 

Big Brother

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Once again complaining
You take little sister to school.
I wonder if it is Norwood Elementary,
as you navigate our back lane day after day.
The focus of your discontent is wearing a pink, furry hat
and pink mittens as she skips ahead of you
You’re still muttering at the world at large,
When suddenly a vehicle comes out of the side lane
Without thinking, you grab little sister, and hold her close,
as the car speeds past.
Released, she runs off giggling.
Almost caught caring
I hear you yell at her “not to cross the fricking intersection without you!”
Eyes intent on the traffic,
You take her hand and cross  the street.