3rd annual words in motion program - rmwb.ca in motion/files/assets/common/downloads... · the 2014...
TRANSCRIPT
3rd Annual Words in Motion Program
Congratulations to all the poets who participated in
the 2014 Words in Motion Program! Your creativity,
imagination and talent contribute to the vibrant culture
of our region.
A special thank you to the selection panel:
Buffy Close, Jessie Levesque, Kiran Malik-Khan, Tara
Munn and Greg Nightingale. Your keen eye and love of
poetry have contributed to the success of this program.
Public Category1 .
2 Alexander the Great
3 Awe
4 Coney Island
5 Conversation Going Nowhere
6 Dirty Water
7 Don’t You Shush Me Now
8 He Heard the Call
9 House Gecko, May I Ask?
10 Innocence
11 Longings
12 Morning Froth
13 Moth
14 Moth in My Coffee
15 Northern Vibration
16 Ocean Bottom Lips
17 One Brief Moment
18 One That Got Away
19 Our Beginning
20 Pinhole Treasure
21 Regarding University
22 Remembering
23 Rhapsody
24 So Blue It Mirrored the
Turquoise Tiles
25 Sometimes, the Sun
26 Sonata Cantata
27 Southbound
28 Stillness
29 The Artist
30 The One-Legged Goose
31 The Winter List
32 The Worry Stone
33 Who You Are
34 Whooshing Upon a Star
35 Winter Breaks, Spring Fixes
36 You Are the Dew
That I Crave For…
Junior / High School Category
37 As I Stare into the Fire…
38 Failure
39 Not Bitter Enough
40 Sylvia
Elementary School Category
41 An Invitation
42 Bully Beware
43 Colours
44 Earth Eagle Everywhere
45 Everyone Needs a Dream
46 Feu/ Fire
47 I Love Kittens
48 I Want a Pet
49 Je rêve/ I Dream
50 L’automne/ Autumn
51 Les Princesses/ Princesses
52 Mon Monde Parfait/
My Perfect World
53 My Dragon
54 Raging Rocket Science
55 Storm
57 Summer
57 The Biggest Gift the World
Gave to Me
58 The Eagle Has Landed
59 The Hummingbird Fights
60 The People
61 When You’ve Arrived
62 Winter
63 Winter in Fort McMurray
TABLE OF CONTENTS
It’s kind of like the truth
wrapped up around some lies;
like the sadness only
found in long good-byes.
It’s devotion to a star
that isn’t in your sky;
like having no excuse
for needing an alibi.
Interpret this way;
or is it like the sunrise;
changes every day.
It is kind of like a war cry
or a peaceful protest in the park;
like a horseback ride
on a blinded stallion in the dark.
It will stab you in its light
like a flame eager to expand,
like a jagged shadow in the night;
a cryptic dagger in its hand.
It’s like a secret that no one has ever heard;
the chirping of a single bird, bird, bird.
A whisper only spoken by the wind,
like a breath from deep within.
Jody Pratt
.
1
They say he stood upon the shore
And wept into the sea
For fear he’d conquered all the world
At only thirty-three.
Yet had he known untrammeled soil
Lay just beyond his hand,
He would have wept a flood to think
He’d never see that land.
Though we may weep at gaining all
With nothing left behind,
More often still, our tears are shed
For worlds we’ll never find.
Jane Jacques
Alexander the Great
2
3
Stillness beats at tree and sky
Where finer things sit bare, on
Moments standing humbled
By an echo in the air.
No time for tongue to pulse and grope
At fret or plucks of scorn
As truth has earnest company
When conscience walls are torn.
Its effortless communion
Not one cell tunes away.
That simple breath inhaled, where
Eternal strikes its day.
Kimberly Jean Fiske
Awe
4
The smell is like bitter rubber
or A-B-C gum stamped into the concrete:
the A-Train that takes us to Coney Island.
A woman wraps polka-dot viscose around her face,
eyes shift down to the floor
as her children pass the time with leap frog,
legs slick with a continual bend and snap.
Every freak show has a clown
that looks like a checkerboard,
triangle tears slowly sweating off his face,
paint surely ready to bubble like a fried egg.
Sally does burlesque on the beach,
tassels are glittering against sun-damaged skin
and distract the men on Steeplechase Pier,
who bait their hooks with a bloodworm,
swollen clitella tempts the bluefish that
fill their pails, fins stack up like poker chips.
It is 85 degrees in April, the gulls
are covering the shoal and how odd it is that
a fat brown bottle washed to the shore
is what we can relate to the most.
Sarah Watson
Coney Island
5
As I knelt by your graveside, thoughts of your
coolness licked against my fiery skin. I traced
the S’s of your name, chased the moss from
the curves of earth’s granite. Your hand upon
my shoulder, slipped past—
a breath of displaced air, disguised
in a sigh.
I wanted to tell you that Gerry finally came home. Four paws
clicking and tail hung low. Thought you might
want to know. Deer ate the tulips again, a young doe
with twins. Tiny spotted things.
I wanted to ask where you put the instructions
for the furnace. It’s mighty cold this spring: the bees
might not hatch. And where’s the edging shovel,
the green handled one?
I wanted to know, if I‘d said sorry, would
you have left in such a fury? Would you have paused
long enough to scratch Gerry behind the ears? Long enough
to fasten the gate? And in that moment
robbed fate
of her early morning meal?
Cathy Yard
Conversation Going Nowhere
6
Rub-a-dub-dub
Three men in a tub
The politician, the entrepreneur
and the undertaker
Rub-a-dub-dub
Wet heads together
They make slippery deals
Dirty the water while passing the soap
that never cleans, even when scrubbed
Rub-a-dub-dub, three men in a tub
Into a huddle they make
splash and foam until
the politician climbs out
promises tucked close to chin,
while the entrepreneur scrambles
with tax laws and penalties,
as the wrinkles set in.
Rub-a-dub-dub, two men in a tub
The soap now a sliver
as thin as the promises given, disappears
Water cools and businesses fold
as the entrepreneur sinks under
the soap-scummed water
Rub-a-dub-dub, an undertaker in a tub
wearing nothing
but a grin.
Cathy Yard
Dirty Water
7
Are you listenin’, are you listenin’ good
Open them big flaps and get somethin’ understood
I don’t care if you leave and I don’t care how
Baby, don’t you shush me now
You said you’d be right back, heading through that door
What’s a week or two, it’s a looooong way to the store
Baby, don’t shush me now…oh no
It’s a longer way home, crawlin’ through the dark
Your belly draggin’ low, no baby, don’t you park
No baby, don’t shush me now … don’t shush me now
Don’t you park your tom-cattin’ tail by my front door
I mean it Baby, no more…no more
I said, Baby…don’t you shush me now
I’m just winding up. Gonna have my say
You’d best be on your knees and commencin’ to pray
No Baby, no more shushing now
That girl you been charmin’, she dropped by and said
All sassy and braggin’, tricked out in red
Listen, Baby, don’t you shush me now
She told me you was moving on, but I said get this understood
I was giving you away, this time for good
Oh yeah, Baby, don’t shush me now
Jimmy-two-step-shoes, keep on prancin’
Keep those slippery soles a dancin’
Yeah, Baby, here it comes…don’t you shush me now
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again
Don’t care if you leave, don’t care when
Baby…don’t you dare try shushing me now
So before you take your lies down that one-way road
Paradin’ them stories of your heavy load
Baby…baby listen up good, hear me now
Yes baby, that’s you I’m talkin’ to…
Don’t even think about shushing me now
Oh no…no more shushing now.
Cathy Yard
Don’t You Shush Me Now
8
At one o’clock
I heard the call
On the line was my son Paul
He said “Ma, I’ve got to go.”
Inside my heart was screaming no!
*He heard the call
To stand a fight
For what he thought was right
So the rest of us could live free
A soldier’s what he had to be*
At four o’clock
Alarms rang out
“Put on your gear” the captain shouts
He said “Come, we’ve got to go.”
Inside his heart was screaming no!
*Refrain
At eight o’clock
He heard no sound
My son Paul was on the ground
The captain said, we’ve got to go.”
Inside his heart was screaming no!
*Refrain
At twelve o’clock
I heard the call
I picked it up and let it fall
I said “Paul why did you have to go.”
Inside my heart was screaming no!
*Refrain
A soldier’s what he had to be
Karla Power
He Heard the Call
9
Butiki, pwedeng magtanong?Paano ba ng makibaka sa buhayNa hindi nahuhulog saMakinis na kesameng iyongKinaroroonan?Wala ka bang kapaguran?Saklaw mo ang iyong paligid,Libre mong naiikot ang iyong mundoNa walang pag-aalangan…Pwede kaya kitang tularan?Ayan ka’t katalik ang iyong irogDyan sa makinis na kesame,Hindi man lang kayoNahulog… Maheka? O Himala?Paano mo nagawang pag-aralanItong iyong ‘maheka’gayong alamKong abala ka sa pakikibaka?Ito ako nakatingala, Nakatingin sayoNagtatanong sayo,-di mo man lang ako pinansin.Busy kaba?Hindi mo man ako kausapin,O sya, Isali mo nalang ako sa iyong mga dasal-“gumaling sana ang baliw na iyan, Para di nakikipag-usap sa butiking walang pakialam…”
House Gecko, may I ask?How does one battle with lifeWithout fallingFrom that smooth ceilingWhere you are?Do you ever get tired?You rule your surroundings, You explore your own world so freelyAnd without hesitation…Would I ever be like you?There you are with your lover making love, right there on that smooth ceiling,Not ever a hint of youFalling… magic? Or Miracle?How did you find timeTo learn this “magic”, when I knowYou’re busy with your battles in life?Here I am, looking up watching you, Asking you,-you don’t even bother to care.Are you too busy?You don’t even bother to answer me,Oh well, I hope somehow you add me to your prayers -“may that crazy woman’s head get better, so she’d stop talking to a Gecko who doesn’t care…”
Reinalie Jorolan
(Tagalog Version) (English Version)
Butiki, pwedeng magtanong? House Gecko, may I ask?
10
In my mothers’ cold cellar
there was always enough reserve
to carry us through a winter;
the pickles were plentiful, onions too
September potatoes didn’t grow eyes till February
And we never noticed
that beets faded in the light...
...Bread had jams and berries
ice cream has preserves;
The freezer held fish and rabbits
and corn and beans and zucchini
and tons of tomatoes and peas.
Soups were good then
And gasoline was cheap.
And I was still naive enough
to believe everyone everywhere
lived like this.
Sharon Cordes Okrasa
House Gecko, may I ask? Innocence
11
Oh small bird
no debts to pay
Go where you want
Come when you may
Eat when you’re hungry
Fly as you please
Would that I could be so at ease.
Each year you fly south
With the strength of your heart
I’ve a will of my own
But we’re worlds apart...
Trade for a while
And let me be free
To fly in the wind
And rest in those trees...
Would that I could be so at ease.
Sharon Cordes Okrasa
Longings
12
Every morning you wipe the froth from the edge of your mouth.
It does not risk your life or hinder your next move,
nor does it ask forgiveness or for money.
Weightless and invisible it only exists in mirrors.
A minor dryness that pulls ever so slightly;
that tastes minutely sticky, that rests without burden.
Yet you wipe it away each day.
Raising your arm, dividing your pointer and thumb,
bringing it all to your face, perfectly placed,
you wipe the edge of your mouth.
Then maybe scratch your nose, push up your glasses,
wipe the dust from your eyes;
yawn.
During the night did you remember to:
make your dreams lucid or
talk with the universe or
raise your chin to the stars?
Did you look out over billions of years of existence,
upon an infinite star-scape,
exploring infinite possibilities
using all the time and space ever made;
filling it with more, expanding exponentially to
its unlimited potential, colliding galaxies and
eating matter, spitting light, launching energy
and
fulfilling destiny
and wonder
if you waste precious seconds on
trivial nuances.
Jody Pratt
Morning Froth
13
She was a moth.
Dusted with mildew, and a slight tint of grey.
Ashen in the past,
she flew to the light.
Hoping to fall into an abyss that lead to waterfalls.
To clean her wings,
it was all she thought of.
She found the wings heavy, and full of heat.
Burnt her back, and opened wounds,
she pulled, and tugged with every bit of might.
With all she had, the wings stayed tight.
They were filled with glitter, and were dusted with diamonds.
She looked at them with contempt,
they swung to a tune.
Julia Bennett
Moth
14
Plummeted from the sky,
tiger moth going down,
down
down.
Blotched landing in my last cup
doing the backstroke,
wing dust creaming my morning infusion,
contemplations interrupted.
Who invited you? The rudeness,
the indignities of endings.
Cathy Yard
Moth in My Coffee
15
There is a magic between the snow and the northern light
That makes one forget the brittle tire crunch of a winter’s night,
The north crawls inside of you, imprinting on your soul
From the flurries of Fort McMurray right up to the North Pole
When eyebrows freeze, and cheeks are crisp,
Just look up at skies blood-red kissed
Ladders of rainbow light dance to a hip hop rift
To make you ignore the waist-high snow drift
Fall into the Wood Buffalo sky, let it breathe into you
Your soul will be cleansed by more than the view
It is purity and art on Heaven’s blank canvas forlorn
Painting the underbelly of clouds ragged and torn
Puffs of cotton cloud soak up heavenly paint
God’s dust cloth redistributes without any restraint
The ache of the north is not of cold and wind
It is an otherworldly painting that settles within…
Patricia Henderson
Northern Vibration
16
Sedna rules, in a chopped sea of white-capped silence,dissatisfied by those who court her.She rejects her father’s choices until none are left to please her.
Years pass and unhappiness prevails untilone day a winged stranger appears.Ice crystal dusted, his ebony burnished wings hold the promise of summer’s sun. He dances like the wind he blew in on.
Against her father’s wishes,she finally chooses theone with birds’ feet and paddles away to live on foreign cliff topswhere misery and vertigo live roughly, side by each.Discontentment re-visits and Sedna longs to return.She extends her one and only smile when her father arrives to spirit her home.
As they paddle from her husband’s surf-pounded home a storm brews andmidnight-glazed wings cover the sun.The sea rapidly turns into a roiling nightmare of foam.About to capsize, her father dares to suggest a reconciliation that Sedna refuses to consider. The stormrages on and her father, in exasperation, turns his back, sacrificing her to a hungry ocean.
And so Sedna sits, mirror clutched in hand to reflect her lugubrious existence,married to a sea scorpion- part-dwarf —the only one who would have her.He does not admire her iced splendour, kelp-entwined hair or broadened shoulders.Nor the fullness of hermagnificent moon breasts that give way to the smallness of
her back followed by the curve of her alluring hips now covered in overlapped boney plates protecting an artful tail.
Embittered, Sedna turns her back on mankind, indifferent to the humans who hunt her wiles.She perches on winter’s chilled rocks combing greenling cod from her hair, while sensuous ocean-bottom-lips guilefully smile as someone drowns or in the endless night when she roams the ice pans collecting frozen shadow-souls.
Cathy Yard
Ocean Bottom Lips
17
Eyes glitter from the side
of the road, face illuminates then
disappears. I slip through
hollow grasses that whisper,
into the night hunting what moves,
breath held, heartbeat suspended,
through still of darkness with you.
Night air moist, I hunger
for warmed, salt-blood, for freedom from light,
from societies’ rules—reborn primal. Carry
me with you; show me what I have put aside,
forgotten in haste.
Over the hum of tires an owl hoots,
calls my name, and I drive on
into the night.
Cathy Yard
One Brief Moment
18
A gaggle of well attired people waiting by the roadside patiently.
Not so young, their clothing and expression weighty.
Staring at the asphalt or vehicles, afraid of any human connection
As they wait for a safe passage to the other side and their destinations.
And then she comes by, walking alone to a beat of her own; hesitantly.
Clothed in layers of fabric gossamer, splash of color; treading lightly
Glances slid her way and away, clearly a misfit shouted the backs.
Missed education, lack of application, life out of whack.
You’d see, if you cared enough to let your gaze linger
Deep crevasses of misery, dreams torn asunder
A faltering of pace nearing the dark, silent group, recognizing rejection.
A quick glance to the side and striding across lanes, quick leap on to the median.
Confident, darting ahead finding gaps amidst vehicles; a flash like a rainbow on the other side.
A lightning bolt, leaving a searing hole of emptiness, a gaping lack of courage inside those waiting for an opportune break in the tide.
Neha Gandhi
One That Got Away
19
Inside of us all…I feel it.
Around all of us…I see it.
I would go to war with you.
All of you I would protect.
In the simpler times...
In the good times.
Life was felt as much seen.
Our senses sharp, quick, full.
We would spy a bird to inspire dreams.
We would watch the wolves as they hunt.
We would see the ants work as one.
We would respect the bear protecting her
cubs.
Afterlife was known as if life.
We drifted into these realms while alive.
We felt the earth’s energy at all times.
And it felt us back... with love.
In dreams in daylight at all times.
The spirits talked with us and we heard.
Animal, Ancestor, Earth, Sky, Upper, Lower.
The Great One surrounding us all.
They tell us it was survival of the fittest.
They tell us we scrapped and clawed.
They tell us it was a harsh cruel world.
They tell us we lived in death and pain.
Our ancestors laugh at this, as do I.
The hunters in your family say we all ate well.
Your eon ago Grandmothers sang to your
beginnings.
Your eon ago Grandfathers danced with your
past.
They lived and died with no fear.
Having walked the spirit path with breath in
lungs.
They laughed and cried with full hearts.
Knowing smiles and tears held no shame.
We are so much more than we know.
We are powerful in our life and spirit.
We belong to the earth as much as soil.
We belong to the air as much as cloud.
You are human, horse, bird, and wolf.
They will come if you call.
We are brother, sister, and friends.
They miss us.
And I miss us too.
Brad Ingram Dawson
Our Beginning
20
Capturing light
A difficult task for one tiny unit.
Snow blankets an abandoned field
Barbed wire wrapped fence posts
Large stone rocks
A photographer’s canvas.
The box is opened.
One second, two
A lengthy exposure for a bright background
The box is closed.
Light captured, image bestowed
Into the dark
To be exposed.
Dawn Booth
Pinhole Treasure
21
On a mattress, two spines face each other at night,
lumbar stiff as the springs that hold them.
Liquid pebbles seep through our engorged ceiling,
and there is a monotonous plop against our dishes,
droning on about our home’s holes and inadequacies.
Deciding to work, we huddle beneath a lamp
that reminds us of natural sunlight, calloused fingers
still clutching our pens.
Yet, I think of our luck.
Like the pickled fetus in our laboratories, we remain dull
and unborn.
Sarah Watson
Regarding University
22
When I’m alone
as I am today
I put all your memories
on my face
And look at myself
in the mirror.
Nice smile Mom.
Sharon Cordes Okrasa
Remembering
23
I fulminate my own words and
annihilate this absurd verse,
like it’s a guitar verses two chords
with the same note, played in reverse.
This is poetry, I don’t need to rehearse.
I’m where the Dictionary gets words.
Every ill rhyme is a sick curse.
Bleeding out my pen, we need a Bic nurse.
Spilling innocent ink
one cartridge at a time.
Singing in sync
I’m beginning to think,
these are slick lines.
You want to hear it all, so
you got the mute paused,
but you can’t hear me because
I pen to papered this whole rap song.
These words I’m writing off,
erasing the cause because,
it’s too scripted to speak of,
these vowels between us
delegating sentences.
Let us collaborate recourse
to restore accordingly order
and stop reading this dead horse.
Jody Pratt
Rhapsody
24
When I met the orb-web spinner I
should have known better than to sit on
her art. I sought only a moment’s rest. Confused
by sky mirrored in the turquoise tiles
of the swimming pool, I paused.
How was I to know which lines were
sticky? There wasn’t time to blink
my multifaceted eyes
before she pounced. No
chitchat this one, no negotiation, down
to business she went, bit and wrapped
my remains with her threads.
As the orb-web spinner drained my life,
over her furred shoulder I saw
a razored beak. Feathers
gathered the air – a perfect strike.
Cathy Yard
So Blue it Mirrored the Turquoise Tiles
25
Sometimes, the Sun lays heavy
Like a large egg waiting to crack;
Its pregnant curves spilling forth
With a blinding je ne sais pas –
Swelling with life and glory,
Gushing golden joy out its sides.
Sometimes, the Sun lies lonely,
A single eye framed by sullen clouds,
A solitary lamp in a dark room.
With no love, it sits, a white-hot aperture,
As though the tablecloth of humankind
Could be pulled off the bald earth
Quietly through this hole.
Sometimes, the Sun doesn’t want to be seen:
A pensive neighbour, it hides behind
And tiptoes across the clouds’ billowy curtains,
Tired of being a light in a dark world,
An ember in the interstellar noir.
And sometimes, the Sun forgets
That it is not alone.
It forgets that I too, am at times,
Effusive, brooding and lonely, yet
No less a brilliant flame
To warm cold hands and a heavy heart
On a bitter winter’s day.
Joshua Samuel
Sometimes, the Sun
26
Was today Mozart to rise
and craft songs to our lives
would he discard the Orchestra,
favoring dub-step to mandala?
Save the man, peculiar face;
acts like Tesla whilst named Amadeus.
A life in shock, the same tune
in an altered state and place,
whence his music be replaced
with invention over grace.
Instruments encased in history;
a sonata erased musically for,
us to adore his cantata score eternally.
Jody Pratt
Sonata Cantata
27
漫步池塘邊 享受著夏天
微風 晴天 擁抱陽光
房屋清晰地倒印在池水中
偶爾被雁兒輕濺漣漪劃破
慢慢地 輕柔地 靜靜地
游著 浮著 穿梭於蘆葦間
池塘結冰時 雁兒何處去？
也許都往南方飛
靜坐陽台上 欣賞著秋天
涼風 藍天 輕吻陽光
樹已變金黃 瑰麗地印在腦海中
突然被一陣狂風捲起思潮
傻傻地 胡亂地 瘋狂地
吹著 捲著 與黃葉一起散落
心靈結霜時 我該何處往？
也許隨雁往南遷
I walked along the pond in Eagle Ridge
A beautiful summer day to enjoy
Clear sky, fresh breeze, embracing sun
Houses inverted, crisply imprinting on the water
Occasionally rippled by the geese
Slowly, gently, quietly
Swimming, drifting, weaving
Between the reeds
Where do they go when the pond is frozen?
Perhaps they all fly to the south
I sat on my patio in Eagle Ridge
A peaceful autumn day to relax
Blue sky, cool breeze, kissing sun
Trees turned golden-yellow, gracefully imprinting on my mind
Suddenly came the wind, evoking my emotions and memories
Silly, wildly, crazily
Blowing, swirling, falling
Together with the leaves
Where should I go when my heart and soul are frosted?
Perhaps follow the geese.
Ai-Mei Li
(Chinese Version) (English Version)
往南 Southbound
28
Here, right here…
The river breathes with everything we are,
Where tears and dark secrets are told freely and
Kept within its vault of eternal silence.
Each passage of time is golden
And every moment is divine.
Here, right here…
My will is planted upon the stillness
Of my solitude.
The air is crisp and honestly benign,
Where my reflection and the river
Quietly entwine.
The stars cannot move me.
Here, I am awake…
Like a crow preparing its sacred
Prayers to the sun, to inherit the
Warmth of the seas, upon its fragile
Knees, before the grim cold days shall come,
The light will guide me.
It matters not where I am.
In this equation of space- amidst the
Trees, at the edge of the river, beside a
Cliff or amongst the lazy nocturne haze…
Like each of us that exist and breathe,
I am one under the sun.
Here, right here…
Each passage of my time is golden and
Every moment is divine.
The stars cannot move me. I am awake
And the light shall guide me. I am one
Under the sun.
Life’s battle is won.
Breathe. Live.
Reinalie Jorolan
Stillness
29
The Hand takes the brush
to the colour I see,
And the canvas evolves
as a part of me.
I see where I’m going
I know where I’ve been,
I want now to paint
to invite you in.
The hand of the woman
that brings you to me
Is the heart of the woman
I want you to see.
Sharon Cordes Okrasa
The Artist
30
poised like a ballerina
daintily crops around
its single mudguard foot
hops aside briefly
when a two-legged goose curses,
then hops back, head down
still munching.
the one-legged goose knows
what the two-legged geese will never know:
that grass still tastes the same
on one leg or two
that when the worst happens
you keep your head down
you learn to hop
you keep munching.
Jane Jacques
The One-Legged Goose
31
The Government has a list (if you wish) of stuff to pack in the back of your cars;
like water in bottles and blankets, and food that won’t spoil such as energy bars.
With extra clothing, and shoes or boots, and a first aid kit with a seatbelt cutter,
Do not forget the scraper and snowbrush, and a shovel alongside the normal clutter.
And don’t forget some candles, in a deep empty can with plenty of matches;
plus a wind-up flashlight with a whistle, and a road map with one of those clips that attaches
to a copy of your emergency plan, next to the sand/salt/cat litter, (non-clumping)
‘twixt the anti-freeze, tow-rope and extinguisher, washer fluid and cables for jumping.
I’ve two sets of everything for both the cars, plus warm clothes for Mom Dad and Junior,
and a wrap for the dog which I lost three times, as well as my sense of humour.
Packing all that stuff filled both the vehicles and caused me to swear and cuss.
So I parked the cars for the winter, said “To hell with it,” and travelled by bus.
Kevin Thornton
The Winter List
32
Slipping from my pocket
It fell so casually
The stone I’d long kept for worry
The stone that kept track of me
It
bounced
with
no
intention
Before an ambiguous sea
Where a thousand stones conceal it
And the worry I held is free.
Kimberly Jean Fiske
The Worry Stone
33
Who were you before you forgot who you were?
Before you disappeared in the dance of your life.
What made you laugh and your heart sing?
Your eyes know the answers
if you have the courage to look.
They tell a distant tale of laughter and light,
Of past hopes and dreams and forgotten truths.
Be brave and look into your eyes
And feel with your heart.
For a spark glimmers deep in the recesses, awaiting a soulful kindle.
The forgotten ‘you’ lies within the sanctity of the soul.
Cast off the cloak of invisibility,
let your true self shine.
For it is not you alone who is lost when you keep yourself hidden
from who you are before you forgot who you were.
Samantha James
Who You Are
34
Our little guy is four years old and he loves his cars and trucks
He likes leather and wood, and electric seats, (he prefers to ride deluxe).
And he’ll push all the buttons and buzzers and switches and anything else that adjusts
But the best of all – and he’ll tell you if you ask – is the bell on a downtown bus.
He doesn’t like the yellow and black ones. “They’re School buses, Dad,” he’ll say.
And he doesn’t really like the oil sands coaches – they take Mommy away every day.
But he loves the idea of big, wide windows and a bell to ring when it’s pushed.
And he’ll ask, as we see them go past our home, “Daddy, let’s take the Woosh.”
He calls them all ‘Wooshes’ and if those are his wishes I haven’t the heart to correct him,
Cause he watches them whoosh by and wishes to know how to ride ‘em or even collect ‘em.
You’re still far too young son, have a Hot Wheels in lieu son, and for now let’s just go out and ride them.
And maybe one day son, then it might be okay son, to get your license and learn how to drive them.
Kevin Thornton
Wooshing Upon a Star
35
The wan sun, he takes no prisoners
In this, the prolonged, painful, retreat
Forget that here is the winter’s solstice
Dark makes Light all the more sweet
A cup of cider, hot in my closed fist
The drums hammering like a heart
Here I am, sleepily; seeking… soaking
Falling together, as near as falling apart
The musician has his guitar and pick
The poet has her feathered pen
Play on! Just play. Teach me something.
Warm me up, and then…?
Here the charge: the synaptic spark
The reason for coming or going
Trying is the only way of being.
Seeking the only way of knowing.
The ice is a pure as it is cold
Its perfection makes it clean.
When you have tasted th’ truth
You will know what I mean
No place can lie even when it says
What you know had been wrong
The brilliant electric aurora borealis
Does her dance. Sings her song
Up the shining steps, to the holy place
There is where I must, now, attend
Where I find me, in aspects and shades
Where I find you, just you, my friend.
Nathan Berube
Winter Breaks, Spring Fixes
36
ત ું કમે એવ ું ઝાકળ બનવાની જીદ કરે છ,ે
જને ે પીવા હ ું તરફડ ુ છ ુ,ં પણ જવેો તને હોઠે અડાડ ુ છ ુ,ંત ે ઊતરી જાય છ,ે...
પલેા નાજકુ ગલુાબની એક પાખંડુીમા.ં
ના, એની તરસમારી તરસ કરતાં વધારે હોઈ જ કમે શક?ે
હ ું તો તને ઝખં ું છ ુ,ંસનાતન કાળથી, જ ્યાર ે આકાશમાં ચાદં-સરૂજ, તારા કઈં જ નહોત ું !
યાદ નથી તન?ે
તારા પ ્રમેન ું કિ રણ મારી આખંમાં પ ્રવશેલે ુ,ંઅનેતનેા પરાવર ્તનથી જ તો આ સરૂજ ઊગલેો !!!
દીપ ્તિ પટલે, ‘શમા’૩.૩૦ બપોર,ે ૨૧ નવમે ્બર, ૨૦૧૩
You are the dew that I crave for,Why can’t you be mine? Why?
When I reach out to hold you,You slip through my fingertips,beckoned to the graceful petal of rose.
How can the thirst of that rose,Be stronger than mine?
How?
I have spent millennia Waiting for you;
I have been craving for you;from beforeThe skies had the sun, moon or stars!
Don’t you remember?
The first rays of your loveshined into my eyes
And
The reflection of those raysThen and there created this very Sun!
Dipti Patel
(Gujarati version) (English Version)
તારા પ ્રમેન ું કિ રણ You are the Dew that I crave for …
37
As I stare into the fire I see the dancing, roaring flames of spirits.
If one looks closely you can see them.
Spirits of many kinds that dance their way to the heavens.
They twirl around others like two friends giving a pinky swear.
Perhaps they once knew each other before they departed.
Then as they reach the top of the fire they split and vanish.
It’s like they never existed like those who were born centuries ago and are forgotten souls.
My heart sinks slowly as their warmth fades.
But you can see something different; you see sparks that float into the sky.
Don’t become discouraged once they disappear.
They are merely taking their places in the sky becoming constellations.
Fitting themselves into the pattern of the beautiful dark horizon.
It’s a sight never to be forgotten.
Kaeli MaskGrade 9
Bill Woodward School, Anzac
As I Stare Into the Fire…
38
Today I sit by the darkness,
And the darkness sits by me,
There is no hope for light,
And my tomorrow daunts me...
The wound in my heart still hurts today,
As I remember those days of dismay...
When everything was within my reach,
I could have achieved...
Closer! Closer I went! Still closer!
Ah! Missed.
It was too late for my striving fingers,
When I realized that my time passed by and by,
And all I could do was sigh...
The thought of failure,
Still shakes me up from inside,
It was the day when my only hope had died!
Kopal GargGrade 10Westwood Community High School
Failure
39
I taste you on the left side of my tongue
You ruin my coffee when I mix up the little white packets
At a Smitty’s where I shouldn’t linger
I shouldn’t linger I shouldn’t lin
you ruin my day when I come home
with fifty percent less skin covering my organs
But I keep coming back
Since I can’t seem to manage bland popcorn,
(even though my new back teeth punish me for it).
Every time I tell myself it’ll be the last
But I find myself alone at 5 AM scratching
Because I have sprayed salt in my open wounds
And they’ve turned green
Karissa SchreyerGrade 11
Not Bitter Enough
40
O, my frosty winter,
So whitest and my pale;
Thy breath shivers flesh open—
Striking your sharpest of gale.
Shall your snow shower a song
With such smoothing immense;
As I shall smell in to exhale—
Thy nature’s bluest incense.
November’s rain kisses tonight,
December’s angel lights the over,
January’s fool jokes a start,
February’s selling love to flowers.
O, my one and only winter;
Your sadness that kills me everyday
Is blowing snowflakes at my window-
Pane, and pain I can’t carry away.
O, my one and only winter,
So blatantly beautiful are you—
Turning my summer into grey;
Breaking torn, broken pieces to two.
Chris VirgilGrade 9 École McTavish Junior High School
Sylvia
41
Leaf falls on my shoe,
Like an invitation card
Yours truly, Winter…
Shaaf BabarGrade 4
Fort McMurray Islamic School
An Invitation
42
Bully bully please beware,
I don’t like when you pull my hair.
Bully bully please
STOP!
Or I will tell my
Mom, dad, teacher or a cop.
I will use “I” statements
to tell how I feel.
This will help to
make my heart heal.
I will stand up for everyone
So people in our school can have lots of fun!
And now our song is
DONE.
Miss MacKinnon’s ClassGrade 2
Timberlea Public School
Bully Beware
43
Red is for roses and blue is for the sky.
White is for sparkling snow or a cloud sailing by.
Silver is for the rain with the sun shining through.
Yellow is for butter and buttercups too.
Black is for blackbirds and gold for their bills.
Green is for leaves and for meadows and hills.
Grey is for night with no colours.
Morning is for all of them shining again.
Manorma JoshiGrade 4Timberlea Public School
Colours
44
I see tree tops trailing behind me
I also see fishes in the water in the clear ocean
Flying through the sky and
keeping safety of my flight
The air is moving fast on my feathers,
Whoosh
Bullets shooting my way
escaping hunters,
dodging the shots.
Winds in my way are slamming doors
I need skills and bravery.
Ikemba AkamaduGrade 6
St. Martha School
Earth Eagle Everywhere
45
Everyone needs a dream,Don’t you think?
Something….. to look forward to.Maybe to help you
Get out of bed?On those manic, Monday, mornings.
Dreams are somethingTHAT can help you.
That guides your life, like a guardian angel.Helping you through those tough times,
When life knocks you down.And you need
To get back up!
Dreams help you become a confident,Strong individual.
When you can’t help but measure yourselfTo the strength’s of others.
And everyone needs a dream,And just remember to….
DREAM big!
Jane GibsonGrade 5
École St. Paul
Everyone Needs A Dream
46
Le monster sommeille
Et doucement se reveille
Les braises crépitent
Dans les flames brûlantes
Le diable enflame
Se retrouve fâché
La chaleur l’entoure
Pour toujours
La lumière du feu
Fait briller sa queue
Il est bien où il est
Mais il n’aime pas se faire déranger
The monster sleeps
And softly awakes
The embers crackle
In the burning flames
The blazing devil
Finds himself upset
The heat surrounds him
For ever
The light of the fire
Makes his tail shine
He is good where he is
But does not like to be disturbed
Genevieve TokarzGrade 5
École Boréal
(French version) (English Version)
Feu Fire
47
I love kittens!Cute, cuddly, playful kittens,
Willow, Thunder, Lightning and then there’s BrittanyThose were my favourite, don’t you see.
Some are mommies,Some now are daddies,
Then there is … my Brit-ta-ny.She is light on her feet,Tearing up bed sheets
Going to places she ought not to be,I wonder what will become of she.
I love kittens!I love cats!
Sweet, tired, lazy cats.One’s in heaven, up above.
One’s tearing up, all my gloves,The others just, give me lots of love!
I love kittens!I love cats!
Even those that are sometimes brats!
Kyla RocheGrade 3
Father Turcotte School
I Love Kittens!
48
I want a pet but,I don’t have one yet.
You wonder why?I’ll try not to cry.
I love my dad but we don’t always agree.Are you surprised, by this, from me?
I want to get a cat, but dad thinks they’re more like rats.I asked for a bunny, he said they’re too much money.
Next I asked for a cute, cuddly puppy.He suggested I get guppy,
“A FISH,” I yelled,That’s not my wish.
I wanted to stamp my feet,But Dad would think, I was a creep.
When I wondered whyI don’t have a pet, yet.
I started to cry.
I don’t think I will even try…Cause now, I am dying to have a scaly golden fish.
Vanessa BoakyeGrade 3
Father Turcotte School
I Want a Pet
49
Les nuages cachent le soleil.
Le soleil cache la lune.
La lune montre les étoiles.
Les étoiles montrent la nuit.
La nuit, je fais beaucoup de rêves.
Je rêve aux anges, à la danse.
Parfois, je fais des cauchemars.
Je rêve aux monstres, aux dinosaures.
Heureusement, quand je me reveille,
Je vois le soleil.
Le soleil qui brille dans le ciel.
Le soleil qui me montre le jour.
Clouds hide the sun.
The sun hides the moon.
The moon shows the stars.
The stars show the night.
At night, I have lots of dreams.
I dream of angels, of dance.
Sometimes, I have nightmares.
I dream of monsters, of dinosaurs.
Fortunately, when I wake up,
I see the sun.
The sun shines in the sky.
The sun shows me the day.
Ms. Ouellette’s ClassGrade 2
École Boréal
(French version) (English Version)
Je rêve Fire
50
Les feuilles tombent
Il y a toujours des ombres
Les fleurs et plantes meurent
Les enfants sont tours de bonne humeur
Les forêts sont très belles
Ça sent comme du miel
Les couleurs changent
Quel beau paysage
Le vent bouge doucement
Et les feuilles tombent lentemetn
Les parents sont heureux
Et les enfants sont malheureux
The leaves are falling
There are always shadows
The flowers and the plants die
The kids are in a good mood
The forest is really beautiful
It smells like honey
The colours change
What a beautiful scenery
The wind moves slowly
And the leaves fall slowly
The parents are happy
And the kids are sad
Maya LévesequeGrade 5
École Boréal
(French version) (English Version)
L’Automne Autumn
51
Toutes les princesses ont leur prince
Les filles attendant leur prince
Il ya a Cendrillon qui
Trouve son prince par chance
La belle au bois dormant
Elle a dormit toutes ces années et
Quand elle se reveille elle a un
Amoureux c’est comme de la magie!!
Ou comme blanche neige
Comme pour elle, c’est facile
Elle est gentile, belle et elle a
Des bonnes amies comme moi
Pour les princesses c’est
Facile d’avoir un amoureux dans des livres
Mais en réalité c’est moins facile mais
Comment je devrais savoir j’ai onze ans
Every princess has their prince
Girls wait for their prince
There’s Cinderella who
Found her prince by luck
Sleeping beauty slept for
All these years and when
She woke up she has a boyfriend
Like M A G I C!!
Or Snow White for her
It’s easy, she’s nice, pretty
And has good friends
Like me I have good friends.
For all princesses it’s easy
To get a boyfriend in books but
In reality I don’t know how easy it is
But then again I’m eleven how should I know.
Genevieve GauthierGrade 6
École Boréal
(French version) (English Version)
Les Princesses Princesses
52
Je vois une image
Sans de nuage
Ou les perroquets
Ne sont plus en cages
Des arcs-en-ciel
Comme du miel
Ou les abeilles
Font des merveilles
Ou les pionniers
Veulent danser
Dans la rythme
De la joie
I see a picture
With no clouds
Where the parrots
Are not in cages
The rainbows
Like honey
Where the bees
Make wonders
Where all the pioneers
Want to dance
With the rhythm
Of the joy
Salima Thibault Grade 5
École Boréal
(French version) (English Version)
Mon Monde Parfait My Perfect World
53
There’s a dragon in my basement.But nobody knows,But, nobody, knows.
There’s a dragon in my basement,He’s blue with black spots on the back of his wings,
Bucky has fiery breathe, is huge and sings.
There’s dragon in my basement,Every morning, he wakes me and up and it’s me he greets,
Sometimes when mom and dad are out, he uses his fiery breath to cook me treats,When his dragon friend’s come over to play, they sneak around and play hide and seek.
There’s a dragon in my basement,He has the warmest fur underneath his wings,At night if I’m cold, it is a blanket he brings,
I love him very much, he treats me like I’m a king,There is just one problem, he’s invisible, that’s the thing,
There’s a dragon in my basement,But nobody knows,
And nobody knows because, he is invisible.
Nandii KuzatjikeGrade 3
Father Turcotte School
My Dragon
54
Rocket;
Like a bullet soaring!
A giant machine;
Raging through the
skies!
The sun sets
over the horizon,
Wind screams at me
as I soar through
the air.
The sky screeching in
pain.
I got messages
from the screech;
The final frontier!
WHOOSH,
WHOOSH!
Evan PollettGrade 6
St. Martha School
Raging Rocket Science
55
As I run up the rocks getting away from thunder, I stop.
I look at the trees. They are crying sap.
I hike up more, looking down at the plateau.
As I jump in I remember that water is an ally of lightning.
As I swim out the fish start wailing. They want to play.
As I walk up the mountain I hear thunder and lightning. They are near.
When I get to the top of the mountain a burst of heat hits me.
The storm has ended.
Thank you sun.
Kolby IpGrade 5
Timberlea Public School
Storm
56
I love summer, summer’s hot,
Canadian winters, don’t really rock!
I have the sun, don’t need the shade,
In Africa, we loved to wade,
The sunny hot sky
Makes me feel …
Not as shy,
To play with frogs and bugs,
Or to roll on the grass,
Like it’s a rug.
Summer is eating outside,
Swinging in the park, and sliding down the slide,
It’s summer, it’s summer!
I love summer!
I love the sun!
Don’t need the shade,
It’s time for fun!
Nyriack Gol JiirGrade 3
Father Turcotte School
Summer
57
The biggest gift the world gave to me has to be the best of all
It can’t be any ordinary toy or it can’t be my favourite doll.
The biggest gift the world gave to me has to be from the heart.
You can’t break it, you can’t bend it, you can’t tear it apart
The biggest gift of all has no start or end
It is a gift that you can easily lend
It is friendship
A gift that we all share
We can help each other and we certainly care
The biggest gift the world gave to me is friendship
It can’t be sold, it can’t be bought, it has no price
It can only be taught
The biggest gift the world gave to me is friendship for sure
If you’re sad
That’s the only cure
So I hope you all have friends
And I certainly hope your friendship never ends!
Tanisha KadiaGrade 5Timberlea Public School
The Biggest Gift the World Gave To Me
58
I am an eagle.
Extraordinary eyesight,
giant wings,
my sound is heard from
far away.
The sky is grey, grumpy and grim,
Deadly cold winds make a zip sound.
The wind feels so cold against my wings;
The eagle twitches as he flies
more and more.
I must fly as low as I can
to avoid the winds.
The weather freezes my wings
while flying down,
The eagle flys down like a rapid bullet;
The cold winds is frostbite just when you get outside.
The coldness can hurt so bad,
it’s a broken friendship.
Nathan NicholleGrade 6
St. Martha School
The Eagle has Landed
59
Pretty hummingbird.
Humming
Fast bird.
I cause no danger.
The wind softly blowing is a flute
Whoosh
Not a cloud in sight
hoping the snowstorm doesn’t come early.
Planes soaring in the sky
fish in the ocean underneath me.
The air relaxes so peaceful
but soon the wind started to blow
Whoosh!
Snow falling out of the sky fast like bullets
Snow storm pass
Get to my family.
Sarah GengeGrade 6
St. Martha School
The Hummingbird Fights
60
The people in the village, all cozy and warm
The little children building blocks with a funny form
The people in the city at a shopping mall
Their pets altogether, walking down the hall
The people in the country, in a barn so tall
The farm animals in a barnyard stall
All the people, different heights, all have one fright…
The fright of losing purpose
The fright of the wrong way
But just remember there is always one more day
Gather together
Chloe TaggGrade 4
Timberlea Public School
The People
61
When you’ve arrived,You’ll know.
You will feel somethingIn the pit
Of your stomach,You will also feel it
In your bones,And to the tip,Of your toes.
My arrival wasThrough dance.
I gained confidence,I felt self respect.
And I built onMy successes.
Although I stumbledI always got up,
Pointed my toes,Smiled
AndJust
Kept,Dancing.
Jane GibsonGrade 5
École St. Paul
When You’ve Arrived
62
Winter is colder than summer.
Icicles drip under my lips.
Nothing sparkles like snow.
Tonight snowflakes shine like light.
Everyone is warm with love.
Rise and shine and have some fun.
Christine Joyce PolicarpioGrade 3École Boréal
Winter
63
Winter is cold.
Winter is undisciplined.
Winter is undetermined.
Winter grinned.
Ayman NasherGrade 4
Fort McMurray Islamic School
Winter in Fort McMurray
64