90 Winters: A Poem

October 27, 2017 at 5:12 pm (Biographical, Commentary, History, Life, Obituaries, Personal essays, Poetry) (, , , )

90 Winters: A Poem

The Medicine Man Chief of the Blackfoot Nation smoked his pipe
and looked out across the distant prairies at the distant hills
He then began his tale,
90 winters ago
Gitche Manitou sent a wise soul into this world
The same month that talking motion pictures were born
Al Jolson had said, “Wait a minute… you ain’t heard nothing yet”
A few weeks later a baby uttered his first cries under the vast blue dome of an Alberta prairie sky
A child who learned to read when he was 3 years old
Reading the Bible and Shakespeare and Charles Dickens was his fare
When he was 4, his father went away from the farm to work,
that same winter his mother took ill with scarlet fever
And he was raised that winter by a Cree First Nations Medicine woman
She taught him the power of herbs and roots
and how to heal using them
He started his public schooling at the age of 5
in a one room schoolhouse
called Elba
a school built in 1914
on the 100th anniversary of Napoleon Bonaparte’s 1st exile
his exile to the island of Elba
In 1936 at the age of 9
George had determined that Adolf Hitler
was a bad person
so he was going to build himself an airplane
and fly over to Berlin Germany
and bump him off
like Saint George slaying the evil dragon

He built himself an airplane all right
a Wright Brothers style aircraft
much to his family’s and farm neighbours’ amazement
He wisely sat on the very back seat of the plane
as the plane’s navigator
while his elder brother sat in the front seat of the plane
as the pilot
That way if their lift-off was unsuccessful
as they took off the hill over the
Rosebud Creek valley
and the plane landed in the creek
it would be his elder brother who wound up first in the Creek
George wisely reasoned
while he George would have time to jump off the back seat
before the plane landed in the Creek

Well the plane never made it to Germany
not even to Newfoundland
not even as far as the Alberta-Saskatchewan border
but George’s elder brother Tom
certainly enjoyed a very close up look of Rosebud Creek
right in the creek
as George wisely determined after take-off that the plane
wouldn’t reach its destination
so George wisely jumped off the back seat
as the plane made it to the ground
heading straight for the creek
with pilot Tom in the front seat
cursing and swearing
and prophetically foretelling
the language and dialogue
on most TV programs in
the early 21st Century

The 4-Minute mile was not broken by Roger Bannister
at the 1954 British Empire Games in Vancouver
but by George on that day in 1936
as he sought to escape
his dripping wet and deeply agitated elder brother
who chased after him from the creek

George reached the safety of his parents’ house in time.

In the early 1940s as a teenager, George studied palaeontology under the great palaeontologist Dr. Charles Mortram Sternberg in the Red Deer River Badlands
In the mid-1940s, he studied Science and Engineering at Mount Royal College in Calgary
In the late ’40s and early ’50s,
he studied History and English Literature at the University of Alberta
He finally settled on becoming a teacher
passing on his knowledge and wisdom to future generations of children
In the 1960s at Sherwood Heights Junior High School
he and his students built small rockets
that went soaring high into the skies
above that place of Alberta suburbia known as Sherwood Park
A sight that startled many Sherwood Park residents
who thought they were under Soviet missile attack

The principal of the school instructed George not to build
rockets that soared so high
Among George’s students was future astronomer and physicist
Dr. Paul Hickson
who pioneered work in the reflecting mercury liquid telescope

Among George’s students in the ’70s was future palaeontologist Michael Caldwell
who discovered the world’s first fossil of a flying snake in Israel

In the late ’80s George retired from active teaching
and was hired by the Alberta Department of Education
to give training workshops
to beginning Science teachers

In the ’90s, George began painting pictures
and mastered that medium
In the early 21st Century, George
began research for a 3-volume history of Western Canada
that he was going to write
In June of 2010, he was half-way through the 2nd volume of his 3-volume history of Western Canada
when he died from cancer.

90 winters ago, this man was born.

-A poem written by Christopher
Friday October 27th 2017
on what would have been
his father George’s
90th birthday.

Advertisements

Permalink 15 Comments

I’m Taking A Break Off WordPress For A Week To 10 Days

October 15, 2017 at 8:15 pm (Life, News, Personal essays, Vampire novel) (, , , )

I’m Taking A Break Off WordPress For A Week To 10 Days

To all my friends, readers and fellow bloggers, I’m just letting you know that I’m taking a break off WordPress for the next week to 10 days.

I have been continuously blogging since January 4th of this year- which is probably the longest spell I’ve spent continuously blogging but now I’m starting to feel the growing pangs of writer’s burnout.

So I’m taking a week to 10 days off WP so I can re-charge my batteries as it were.

I’ll read your comments and blogs when I get back. 🙂

But seeing as how Renfield R. Renfield seems to be the favourite character in my vampire novel for a lot of people (including myself), I’ll leave you with some samples of how Renfield spent his day today:

Renfield received a note from Dr. Cadbury Rocher on how today October 15th 2017 was the 100th Anniversary of the execution of the famous femme fatale World War I spy Mata Hari.

So today to celebrate the occasion, Dr. Rocher had genetically cloned Mata Hari.

20 years ago, the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set had hired a trio of unemployed jewel thieves to steal Mata Hari’s head from the Paris Museum of Anatomy.

The head had been in Set Enterprises’ possession ever since and using DNA from the head, Dr. Rocher had successfully created a fully grown adult female clone.

As for Renfield’s own activities, he had hacked into a meeting of those anarcho-Communists who called themselves Antifa who were meeting in a city in the U.S. and played on the projector in the room where they were meeting that 3 minute 13 second clip from the 1972 movie Cabaret where the Hitler youth starts singing Tomorrow Belongs To Me and hundreds of Germans stand up and join in the singing.

Then in another U.S. city, a group of Neo-Nazis and Ku Klux Klansmen were meeting. Renfield hacked into their projector and started playing a video of Martin Luther King’s I Have A Dream speech.

Lastly Renfield examined a female sex robot that Dr. Cadbury Rocher had just created.

The robotic female looked ultra-realistic, ultra-human, ultra beautiful and ultra sexy.

She was also dressed in a sexy outfit- a corset and leather mini skirt which could easily be removed.

The female robot even had a realistic feeling vagina.

The only thing was when a potential sex partner hit the robotic clitoris with a certain part of his anatomy, this would spring a built-in beaver trap in the vagina that would automatically clang on top of that person’s anatomical part.

Renfield put the female sex robot in a box and then had the box courier delivered to Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein. The tag outside the box read A Special Gift Just For You.

-A personal essay
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday October 15th
2017.

Permalink 26 Comments

The Sands of Time In The Hourglass: A Poem

July 19, 2017 at 2:20 pm (Life, News, Philosophy, Poetry) ()

Sands of Time In The Hourglass

The sands of time in the hourglass
show us this moment will not last
so Carpe Diem and seize the day
follow your dreams, come what may,

Even philosophers wasting away in Margaritaville
or any tavern within and without Seville
will tell you over their cocktail filled med,
“I’d rather die while I’m living than live when I’m dead.”

-A poem written by Christopher
Thursday June 29th 2017.

Permalink Leave a Comment

Back In The Saddle

July 6, 2017 at 10:23 pm (Life, News, Personal essays) ()

Back In The Saddle

Well last Wednesday, I was way up in northeast Calgary.
Returning back, I caught the C-Train.

The driver announced that Marlborough Station was closed due to a police incident. A shuttle bus would drive Bus passengers from Rundle to Franklin Station.

I thought that was fine but then it turned out 4 blocks west of Marlborough was also shut down as well as 4 blocks east.

There was a massive horrendous traffic jam.

So I got off the bus and decided it would be just quicker for me to walk to Franklin Station.

The trouble was the route is underground from Marlborough to Franklin on the train so I had no idea really how to get there.

So the direction I thought I was walking to Franklin took me completely in another direction.

I wound up 30 blocks away in southeast Calgary before I recognized where I was.

A street where I caught the No. 1 bus going west to Bow Ness or the No. 1 bus going east to Forest Lawn.

But the entire street was under construction.

I had no idea where the bus stops were now.

But I knew across the avenue, I could catch the No. 23 bus to the Chinook C-Train Station which was way out of my way from where I wanted to go downtown.

But it was the only place I recognized.

So that’s what I did.

The No. 23 arrived and I caught it.

The No. 23 from there takes a very long route to get to the Chinook Station.

And to top it off, a stupid Canadian Pacific railway train decided to cross the tracks on the route holding the bus up for another 20 minutes.

Needless to say I was really inwardly cussing and swearing at that point in time.

Eventually the No. 23 pulled up to Chinook Station.

I got out and caught the C-Train downtown.

Eventually I wound up at the downtown restaurant I wanted to go to 2 hours later than I intended.

And all because some stupid jackass had left a smoking package in front of a car dealership across from Marlborough Station.

But as a result of being 2 hours late, I was telling the waitress my day’s adventures.

The woman sitting next to me overheard and we started talking.

Eventually I wound up telling her the story of my life the past 7 years- the 7 years of Hell I’ve been through since my dad died.

I recounted all this in my previous blog post Orwell’s 1984 Arrives In 2017- my 7 years of Hell.

Anyhow she was so taken by my story, she offered to get me a new iPhone so I could continue my writing and my blogging.

Today she dropped it off at the building where I reside.

So I’m now back in the saddle to continue writing my blog.

Despots and jackasses of the world beware.

Renfield R. Renfied (Britain’s equivalent of Raymond Red Reddington) is back.

-A personal essay
written by Christopher
Thursday July 6th
2017.

Permalink 8 Comments

To Sail Upon The Sea: A Poem

May 7, 2017 at 3:38 pm (Art, Arts, Life, Nature, Poetry) ()

Blue Velvet Sky and Sea by Timothy Wood aka SAREJESS

To sail upon the sea beneath a blue velvet sky
I’m filled with such awe to see before I die
a vision of such rare beauty
I feel Van Gogh alongside me
capturing the essence of sky and sea

His eyes they see
to penetrate they be
and with his hands the palette becomes
the means to a dream beneath setting suns
allowing them to become reality
captured in time- this sky and sea.

-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday May 7th 2017.

Permalink Leave a Comment

A Humourous Rhyming Haiku For Albert Einstein’s Birthday

March 14, 2017 at 5:14 pm (Biographical, Celebrities, History, Humour, Life, News, Poetry, Science) (, , , )

E = mc2
Einstein equals wild wild hair
Relative comb spared

Albert Einstein

Permalink 6 Comments

Birds Fly Over House In The Sunset: A Poem

March 11, 2017 at 4:01 pm (Art, Arts, Life, Nature, Poetry) ()

Birds Fly Over House In The Sunset by SAREJESS March 2017

Birds Fly Over House In The Sunset painted by the South African artist SAREJESS March 2017

Birds Fly Over House In The Sunset: A Poem

Below the purple hills
lies a little house
where sight of green tree
greets you and your spouse

There each happy morn
with the dazzling dawn
lies fields of green and gold
viewed by doe and her fawn

Sunsets are golden
when they shine down
turn field colours to flame
when they light up the ground

It’s simply paradise
no fancy palaces
or halls of gold
just two souls living
and loving together
until they grow old

Five birds come flying
in the night sky
like the sunset glowing
they bid the day goodbye

There is a wonder
in such a land
where fields and forests meet
the work of God’s hand

Amidst the sun now setting
home fires now burn
day’s work is now done
from love’s touch we learn

It’s simply paradise
these silver skies
and purple hills
where two souls work together
upon the land
building a paradise of love
that shines like a star
reflecting the sun and moon above.

-A poem written
by Christopher
Saturday March 11th
2017.

Paintings for sale by the great South African artist SAREJESS are available here:

http://www.sarejess.co.za/

Permalink 7 Comments

Snow Falls Like Raindrops: A Poem

February 22, 2017 at 5:44 pm (Life, Nature, Personal essays, Poetry) (, , , )

Today a snow fall
The snow fell like raindrops in suspended animation
Not a typical snowfall
but a magical mystery show of snow flakes looking like raindrops
and hitting the ground
much like a film of raindrops falling being put in slow motion mode

Snow flake falls
slow slow
burst of bubbles in the frozen air
dancing up and down to an unseen melody
of joy and laughter

Amidst this snowfall and its silence
one hears the still voice of God
I have found a new place to live
Last week I thought I had become an outcast
Last night I slept outdoors on a park bench
in the cold and the snow and the wind
for the first time in my life
I had become homelessness
in its most feared fashion
Today a meeting with someone
and I’m moving into a new place tomorrow

How quickly life can change within 24 hours
As I told a friend in Germany yesterday via email
“I now have the feeling God wants me to spend a night
in the cold- the damp frozen cold
If it happened to baby Jesus in the stable,
why should I be spared?”

As I told my friend, perhaps after a night in the cold
things will finally change after 7 years of Hell
the cold northern Hell of Niflheim
and the burning hot coals of Hebrew Gehenna

And so snow falls like raindrops in suspended animation
doing a slow motion dance of bursting bubbles
and magic wonderland
heralding that after the darkness
will finally emerge the light

-A poem written by Christopher
Wednesday February 22nd
2017.

Permalink 11 Comments

Theft In A Homeless Shelter

January 4, 2017 at 6:04 pm (Commentary, Crime, Life, Personal essays) (, )

Due to the misfortune of having rented an apartment from a whacko crazy nut job landlady/roomate, I got evicted from my apartment this past January 1st.

The past couple of nights I’ve been living in a homeless shelter in Calgary.

Last night, my iPhone was stolen from my pants pocket (while I slept with my pants on) by some individual who’s obviously a total scumbag.

Every short story, poem and vampire novel chapter I wrote the past 4 years was in the Notes section of that iPhone.

Now it’s gone. 😦

Needless to say, I’m feeling totally devastated at the moment.

-A personal essay
written by Christopher
Wednesday January 4th
2017.

Permalink 15 Comments

Seeing An Old Friend Jack O’ Hare: A Poem

November 29, 2016 at 5:05 pm (Life, Literature, Nature, Poetry) (, , , , )

Seeing An Old Friend Jack O’ Hare:
A Poem

When my dad was still alive and I lived in his house,
there was a wild hare jack rabbit that lived in our back yard
that we called Jack O’ Hare.

He used to observe me when I worked on my computer downstairs
and my dad would occasionally look through the kitchen window watching Jack
as Jack watched me.

I was always fascinated how Jack’s fur changed colour throughout the seasons
In summer, he was gray
In winter, he was white, pure white in colour.

There was a neighbourhood pub I’d sometimes go to at night
And Jack would follow me there and then follow me home
I discovered this in the winter time when Jack’s footprints showed up in the snow
His footprints would lead up to the pub
and then lead back to my house

On one occasion in the winter when walking home,
I decided to turn around and look,
Sure enough there was Jack who quickly skirted behind a tree
when he noticed me turn around

My dad’s explanation for Jack following me
was that Jack was probably worried I’d end up drinking too much
and wouldn’t be able to find my way back home
so he was there as my guardian angel.

When my dad died and his most recent will and testament wasn’t found
and the house was sold by orders of my dad’s Estate
and I was forced to move,
I always wondered what became of Jack.

When I moved to Vancouver, in my writer’s imagination, I imagined Jack crossing the Rockies and coming to the West Coast to look for me
I imagined him living in Vancouver’s Stanley Park
waiting for me to show up
But we never connected.

This past July, I was evicted out of my Vancouver apartment when the rents got sky high
as Mayor Gregor Robertson slept while navel gazing in a yoga lotus position.

I moved back to Alberta
this time to Calgary
where I had to live 3 months in a homeless shelter

Eventually I did get into a place of my own this past autumn
Way on the northern outskirts of Calgary
Almost in the country and farmland areas

And today when I left my place to walk to the bus
There in an area of parkland I suddenly noticed a huge snow white coloured jack rabbit
about the same size that Jack O’ Hare was

We seemed shocked to see one another
I stood there staring at him
And he stood there staring at me with his ears perked up
After a few minutes of staring at one another
we went our respective ways
I- my bus to catch
And Jack O’ Hare- carrots to eat and female bunny rabbits to woo.

Of course in reality I know it’s not the same wild hare jack rabbit
Not the same Jack O’ Hare who used to live in my back yard and who used to follow me to the neighbourhood pub and back home again

But in my writer’s imagination, I’d like to think so
That it is the same Jack O’ Hare
a Jack O’ Hare who followed me across the Rockies to Vancouver
And then followed me back across the Rockies to Calgary
and at last, we’ve found one another again.

And who knows?
A very wise man once wrote these words,
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Perhaps Jack O’ Hare and I have found one another again. 🙂

-A Jack O’ Hare poem
written by Christopher
Sunday November 27th
2016

Permalink 6 Comments

Next page »