Friday, October 25, 2013

Summer's End

Forest walk
with an eye for colour
Look ye there
I see another!

Reds, yellows,
greens and brown
A rainbow amongst the trees
and all around.

Feathered friends
and furry ones too
There's lots of life left
Despite Autumn's hue.

Those fleeting rays of sunshine
we chase into the trees
Our false sense of summer;
a pleasure and a tease.

These days a memory
one to cherish true
as winter approaches close
and balmy days are wished adieu

Monday, September 23, 2013

Editing Africa

For those of you who read this blog back when I regularly contributed excerpts about my travels through Africa, I want to thank you today. Just as it was a long process to write the story, it is a long process to edit it. It has all taken much longer than the original 10 months that I was gone for, but every time I step back into the tale, I am transported. And the encouragement that I received from you then, feeds me every time I push words around on the page today.

So, I just wanted to let you know that I have not given up the tale. There are 244 pages and counting, with new subtitles and potential pictures to be added. I am determined to see this project through to the end once more. I wandered through Zimbabwe today celebrating birthdays with friends, adding a little here and taking a little away there. And YOU my readers were with me.


And now, back to finishing the task at hand - dinner!

Add the pasta, and this will be a tasty treat

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

The Making of a Beet Salad

Stir beets slow
in oven Hot while
quinoa bubbles pop
don't stop until
a soft
they transform in
dinner salad
in tummies


  Now, where did that chicken go?

Thursday, July 25, 2013


cool breeze
autumn sneeze
breath torn asunder
at the end of summer
as a burnt umber face cries
to look at the skies
but all i can see
is the beginning of allergies
no cry for frost yet
i'll pay my dues, plenty wet
from the window seat indoors
with tissues & tinctures
and a memory of summer fun
and your beauty, hard won

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Toad's Revenge

Cruelty to animals,
licking at their back?
Will he turn into prince so fine
or have jowls that just go slack?

The garden that he picked so fair
now inhabited by giants
that pluck his regal countenance
from quiet dreams in silence

Lo, the wrath he wrecks on those
who dare to look and see
This toady responds by releasing full
a bladder full of pee

toad pee!
on my hands
all over ME!

Shows you right 
for disturbing life
Revenge so fine
from our local wildlife

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Wherefore Art Thou Spring?

Wherefore art thou Spring?

Snow has clung to the air
despite a change in calender
and no alter to the attire 
of mine

Search high and lo
and still the temperatures flow
below that damned zero
I whine...

But as every good Canadian knows
Mother Nature bends to no credos
despite pleading and heart-wrenched outflows
now consigned

Spring will arrive
all in good time to revive
our blessed souls once more to thrive
please be kind... 


Saturday, March 16, 2013

Silent Saturday

Swimming in the last few drops of
yesterday's sweet suns
squeezed from your skins
stamped from your hearth
as I greedily swill you

Aye, you bring me Saturday night
through the eyes of my clear
Sauvignon Blanc, I see
  days long gone...

Evenings I stood twitching,
shivering in prayers
and short skirts
for late night smiles
from last minute hopefuls.

As the "LAST CALL"
peal was rung,
the rueful cabby
swung (as I still clung)
round to meet us.

He always done drag us off
more often than not
single and three sheets gone
what a loss
(not), I'm afraid.

No thoughts to tomorrow,
painful and vague,
from those ill-conceived concoctions
drunk in earnest
far from sane

Did they ever truly present
sweet dreams or even slim chance
of pleasant tomorrows?
Or rather misty moments lost in time
and willingly forgotten in tonight's

Monday, March 11, 2013

A New Day | A Writer's Take

I have been writing and publishing posts at a New Day for four years now. In fact, this month I will celebrate my fourth anniversary of calling this cherished blog home. It has been a source for deep emotions, plenty of poetry and more than a tale or two. In the last 10 months though (truly more like 7), I have created a new space for my creativity. While I will always know that it was via this blog, and my experiences here, that I was able to forge a new direction in life, namely that of Freelance Writer, I have desired a new outlet for my writing. "A New Day" will always be home to my poetry, but "A Writer's Take" embraces my new career aspirations and offers support to other writers out in the blogosphere. If you haven't had a chance to stop by, I would love it if you did!

Today though, I wanted to share a special article that I posted over at "A Writer's Take". It is hard not to have themes run throughout both blogs, as they are written by the same author (me!), but this post speaks of the beginning of this very blog. I think it does a far cry better job of describing how "A New Day" came to be than any of my first posts that I published here. Do me a favour and take a peek at A New Day | A Writer's Take and leave me a comment to let me know that you stopped by.

And thank you for being along for the ride. You are my strength, my tools and my sunsets, for today is a new day...

Sunday, March 3, 2013

The Wild Side

A day of rest? 

Lou Reed keeps me company
as I scour corners,
cleanse counters
and discover dark niches 
that never see the light of day

All while the dishwasher washes,
washer & dryers spin
and I play dervish
with the vacuum hose
and iron will to sanitize this home

bloody Sunday
good for nothing or
built for everything good
the house of the lord 
never holds dust
so today
must be one step closer 
to God

hey babe
take a walk on the wild side

and as I try to remember where 
the mop I'm sure I own lives
this feels like
my version of a walk
on the wild side

look at that kat 
go, go, go...

doo, di doo, di doo, doo didoo, doo...

Monday, February 25, 2013


holding on.
holding on..
holding on...

  hold on
the storm's not over yet
you have to hold on to faith
that it won't last forever
  hold on

Thursday, February 21, 2013


that thumping heartbeat
those squeezed shut fists
my raging anger.

let Go
the Child is found 
an unforgiving Look
and Sullen silence
equal Groceries abandoned
at the store today
Let go...

let go
and live this mantra...

internal peace op-
timistic understanding
and mother's moments

This too shall pass...

I guess
that's why Moms freeze leftovers -
for this tomorrow...

Wednesday, February 13, 2013


so sweet 
as it fills a heart
overflows  a  life
yet always finds room 
for yet another moment
to cherish anew

Monday, February 11, 2013


a slip of blanket
over fairy dust skin 
covers yesterday's bones
and how your hand felt in mine
before time
stole youth
and left only 
your thin fingers 
curled around my wrist
so happy to have human touch again

Hmm, if I recall correctly Stranger & Me have a little MFM alphabet game going on and are around about the letter "T". Well, that makes this poem fit then, I believe. I give you "touch" inspired by a visit to my Grandmother's.

Friday, February 8, 2013

Snow Day

Maple Syrup Love
bringer of sloppy roads
cheering children
a Canadian breakfast 
like no other

Doesn't bother me none

I slip on snow pants
Grab the shovel
for the snow removal
and start slogging
for my daily Canuck-style exercises

Don't feel bad for me though
After a brief respite
in a snow bank
I dug back in 
to create a cozy cave
Big enough for 2 lovelies
or one big kid
on enjoying the best
that Canadian winter
has to offer

Monday, February 4, 2013

A Canadian Dare

Shrieks and laughter fill the air. Children run screaming past one another without a care in the world. Backpacks are scattered on the ground, forgotten until the bell's call to summon them back. It's that magical time between the weekend and the official start to the school week. The kids take full advantage of these last precious moments and run for all they are worth.

Newly fallen snow makes a perfect home for tumbling bodies to fling themselves with abandon down the waiting hill. Pencils will soon be clutched in stubborn fingers, but right now it is all about the best that winter has to offer - snow; light and fluffy snow.

"I dare you!" rings out a voice.

Why is it that boys cannot resist a dare? How is it that manhood rears it's ugly head on the grounds of the primary school yard so early? And yet it does. And every year this ritual gets repeated on school yards across the northern hemisphere.

"I double-dog dare you!" Things are getting serious.

More shrieks fill the air, but the peal of the morning bell cuts playtime short for these youngsters. It is time for school to begin.

Another cry fills the air. This one is a little more distressed; a little less happy in tone. And that is when a woman's stricken face streaks past shouting for help. Her arm points backwards towards a few lone figures still standing by the fence at the bottom of the hill.

The metal fence.

At least the boy wasn't left alone to attempt to rip his tongue off the frozen fence. Nothing that a little warm water won't solve, but terror is not the way to start the week off for any young soul. I suppose he won't do that again. The watching parents that slowly wander away shake their heads at the morning's antics. The boy has been freed. No harm has been done. But his moment of captivity, with soft, fleshy tongue stuck to a rusty metal pole in the dead of winter has been enough to shoot all these laughing adults back in time to when they too stood stuck to their own poles in a Canadian winter.

As who can resist the deadly triple-dog dare.

Friday, February 1, 2013

let them go

blue skies break
clouds swirl and skim
its time for recluse
its time for me and him

we explore
we beg & implore
we need to be
some more

in a weekend escape

we will be laid bare

let the snow
and close our world
to tomorrow 
for today I stow
all my problems
- I let them all go 

Wednesday, January 23, 2013


"Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage" by Elizabeth Gilbert; ©2010, Viking Penguin

Over the holidays I made a trip to the library with my children. They each selected books and I wandered, looking for one of my own. No book club selections were available, but as I turned from the computer I noticed a rack of books nearby. The name Elizabeth Gilbert jumped out from the cover of a book. Having read "Eat, Pray, Love", I was already familiar with whom Ms Gilbert was. Yes, I was smitten with her tales of food, travel, salvation through meditation, and of course love. I suppose her name alone sold me on the book, just as the large font of her moniker was supposed to. So home I went with this book that suggested a struggle with the very ideals of marriage.

"Committed" picks up where "Eat, Pray, Love" left off. In the former book, Gilbert had fallen in love with a dashing stranger and then tentatively explored possibly finding new happiness with him. This time around though, she was leery of the precepts of eternal devotion, as presented by the tenets of the marriage contract. No, her and her partner had too many scars to ever consider formally stepping into the marital bounds again. That is, until he is arrested at the border, as they try to re-enter the US. He is told that he will not be allowed to come back into the country, until such time as he legally makes the United States his home - via marriage.

The couple is horrified.

While the idea of marriage does not usually elicit dark and gloomy faces from most people, these two still have wounds that make them skittish at the very thought of marriage. It is fine for some, but they had always sworn to never marry, even whilst making claims to be devoted to one another exclusively. Gilbert takes their time in exile from the States to explore marriage, what it meant to her, the people she met on the road and also set herself to discover what more she could unearth about the state of unions throughout history. At times, the tale is almost immature in its insistence of how horrible it all is, but when you look at the stats (just over 50% in the US and just under that mark in Canada), perhaps it is only naive of me to think that there aren't a whole host of others that are as gun-shy of marriage as she is.

As Gilbert delves into historical models of marriage and her understanding of how she thought it was supposed to work, she unearths some interesting facts; like the 50s in the US weren't always chock-a-block full of happy June Cleavers. And as she further discovers, while divorce rates seemed extraordinarily high, those statistics were skewed when comparing first and second-time marriages. In case you were wondering, secondary marriages had much lower divorce rates. I found that interesting from a clinical perspective, but also a personal level. How many of my peers are in the process of separating? Am I not also in a significant relationship that could ultimately lead to a secondary marriage (which I would rather not think of as doomed to failure).

Ultimately, she has some interesting thoughts and facts, but the text left me feeling that she still has a few more demons to banish before she can forgive her past experiences. But then again, don't we all have our skeletons in the closet that we sometimes wish would just disappear? And don't those mistakes and heartaches make us stronger, wiser individuals that are more willing to make decisions for ourselves, which hopefully includes making the decision to accept happiness and love into our lives once again? As you can probably guess, Gilbert did tie the knot once again and stepped into marriage wilfully.

May we all find that peace ourselves.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Steadfast Hands

Climb every mountain;
hide under every bed...
Strike a pose intimidating
and shriek against the mess in my head.

One moment I'm as tall,
as the highest sequoia.
The next I shrink so small,
too wee to dream of any redeeming karma.

It is this way in life
It is that way in love
see-saw, flip-flop
no even keel laid down from above

The sun shines strong
on my future,
but I fear hesitates to 
germinate this heart's pure ardour

Icy winds
don't blow away tomorrow
Steadfast hands
hold secure as I follow
A dream
that needs no more sorrow...


Image Courtesy of lusi;

Friday, January 18, 2013

The Wine Glass

words on the page
time to get them down...

f i s h
swimming downstream
in my gullet
with a magic bullet
of lemon pepper sansal,
coriander sprigs
and of course fresh lemon 
circling round 
these taste buds of mine
with a glass of wine
the only kind;

now fire bright
as I read by its light
before chasing my children
and their paper minions -
marked by kid's claws
I only say, because of ruined sofas
not forgotten in day's past skirmishes

Yet those groundhogs with kids in tow
tomorrow will surely show
that delightful smiles they still sow
on faces broad, mine & those
of grandparents that bestow
love through the ages; it forever goes

now back to my book
and my warm nook
with dinner forgotten
and drink transporting 
this idle lass
to Russia's morass
during Catherine's governance
perhaps with a topped up wine glass...

Image Source; courtesy melodi2

Monday, January 7, 2013


bodies entwined
so close 
there is no beginning
no end
only heat
and a heartbeat
that fills days of doubt
and a distant dusk
with promises
of forever
in your touch

Image Courtesy of Serpentino at

Sunday, January 6, 2013

broken path

Driving nowhere fast
I careen around the corner
hit life square in the face
and blink, squint, see no more...

Where was that path I was following,
just yesterday?
now lost in a drift
with wheels spinning aimless again.

can you see the future?
cus I am sure having a hard time

and as the light focuses
an army of familiar faces
all stand blinking at the same roadblock
all lost in a today we never anticipated... 

hello 2013
what do you hold?


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