May Day: A Poem

May 1, 2017 at 4:32 pm (Humour, News, Poetry) (, , , )

It’s May Day!
Let’s make hay!
What you say?

Let’s dance around the May Pole
and eat donuts without the hole.

It’s the height of spring!
Let us dance and sing!

May is here!
Drink our beer!
It’s the end of winter drear
time to buy gifts for mother dear!

-A poem written by Christopher
May 1st 2017.

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The Candle In The Glass: A Poem

September 28, 2015 at 6:07 pm (Poetry) (, , , )

The Candle In The Glass

The candle in the glass flickers
so pretty
so golden
as it floats upon the water
casting light that sparkles and spins
upon the glass
a sight of beauty
that makes one feel warm and welcome in the dark
the door opens
a cold wind blows in
and the light dances for its life
The door closes
and the light shines brightly once more
no longer having to deal with the icy cold fingers of death in that chilling wind
It sparkles in the glass
doing a dance of joy
Instead of a dance of struggle
for its very existence.
But people barge in through the door
opening wide the icy cold breath of the thing that seeks to extinguish the light
The light of the candle in the glass
And one of these times the cold wind of death will come bursting in
and snuff out the light of the candle in the glass
And that light will burn no more
Oh, the same candle may be lit again
but the light that burns
will not be the light that burnt before.

-A poem written by Christopher
Friday September 25th

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Children’s Joy On The Beach

July 13, 2013 at 1:29 am (Poetry) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

Once more it is the ending of another day

and the sun is again setting on English Bay.

A little girl splashes her feet in the waves

this moment in life- no doubt among her faves

her little brother kicks his feet in the sand

full of joy and fun and life playfully grand

They dance and sing and hold hands

among the sea water and shining sands

the sky above is a sparkling shade of blue

a promising sign of all things new

a seagull lands on the beach

just within the little girl’s reach

she runs up to say, “Hello.”

But gull says “I’ve gotta go”

and away he flies into the crimson gold sunset sky

not once turning around to say good-bye.

The girl waves so long to her shy new friend

and her dance in the waves soon begins again.

The children’s mother stands up and looks at her watch

for the sun has slipped below the horizon far more than a notch.

She goes to her children and motions them to come

they run to her and both of them hug their mom.

Yes, the sun has finally laid down and gone to sleep in the west

it’s time for them to go home and have their own time to rest.




-A poem written by Christopher

 Friday night July 12th 2013

 based on what he observed this evening

 at English Bay, Vancouver, British Columbia

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There’s Comfort In Old Clocks Tick-Tocking

March 30, 2013 at 12:02 am (Poetry) (, , , , )

There’s comfort in old clocks tick-tocking on the wall

Tick-tock! Tick-tock!

The pendulum goes back and forth.

Bong! The clock announces the hour.

Cuckoo! Cuckoo!

The bird comes out and sings. 


The rhythm of life.

Tick-tock! Tick-tock!

Sometimes it seems the tick-tock is going so fast

and other times… oh! so slow!  


The pendulum…

those moments of ecstasy!

those moments of agony!

Back and forth! Back and forth!



Those major moments…


first love…

first job…



death of a parent…

birth of a child!


Cuckoo! Cuckoo!

Watching a reality TV show.

Hearing a news story about Paris Hilton!

Hearing a news story about Lindsay Lohan!

Listening to a politician caught in a scandal

saying he’s resigning strictly for personal 

and family reasons.

Listening to an athlete caught with his pants down

and his urine tainted

saying no, he didn’t use performance enhancing drugs.

Cuckoo! Cuckoo!



There’s comfort in old clocks tick-tocking on the wall

Tick-tock!  Tick-tock!

The pendulum goes back and forth.

Bong! The clock announces the hour.

Cuckoo! Cuckoo!

The bird comes out and sings.



-A poem written by Christopher

  Friday Evening

 Good Friday

 March 29th 2013

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Walking Towards The Gate

February 27, 2013 at 10:00 pm (Poetry) (, )

Walking Towards The Gate

Walking and walking, forever walking towards the gate
what lies on the other side? What is one’s fate?
Is it heaven? Is it Hell?
is it a place where we can dwell?
Or is it nothing? Nothing at all.
On mortal flesh, worms do crawl
but as for a soul- no chance at all.
And so we walk
and occasionally talk
towards the gate that awaits us all.

-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday evening February 17th 2013.

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Life Should Taste As Good As Swiss Chalet

April 4, 2012 at 9:55 pm (Personal essays) (, , , )

Life should taste as good as Swiss Chalet was a slogan for a Canadian TV commercial popular back in the early years of the last decade.

Swiss Chalet is a chain of restaurants in Canada that specialize in making Swiss style rotisserie chicken.

My dad and I loved to eat there.

There was a Swiss Chalet restaurant in Edmonton’s Capilano district which was close to the hamlet of Sherwood Park where my dad and I used to live.

Throughout the 1990s and the early part of the last decade, we used to visit there every Thursday night.

We used to get the rotisserie style quarter chicken and baked potato which also came with Swiss Chalet’s mouthwatering secret recipe gravy not to mention a home made dinner bun.

The taste of the chicken was heavenly, the gravy was out of this world and the Swiss Chalet baked potato always seemed to taste better than most restaurants’ baked potatoes.

Then about 10 years ago, the Canadian Tire store (Canadian Tire is a department store in Canada- it sells more than just tires) which was the anchor of the shopping center where this particular Swiss Chalet was located- it closed. A few months later, this Swiss Chalet which lost most of its customers (save for my dad and me) closed as well.

How my dad and I missed that Swiss Chalet. It had an upper dining area which had a huge photo of the Swiss Alps that covered three walls. That was where my dad and I used to sit and imagine that we were in a Swiss chalet in the Swiss alps eating Swiss style rotisserie chicken.

A Swiss Chalet restaurant did open later in Sherwood Park where my dad and I lived but it was poorly managed and the food wasn’t as good.

One evening back in 2008, my dad and I had to wait an hour and a half to get our meal (Swiss Chalet prided itself on getting its meals out to customers within 15 minutes) and when the meal arrived- it was poorly cooked.

My dad and I never went back.

And most of Edmonton’s other Swiss Chalet restaurants were in the west side of the city- a good hour’s drive from Sherwood Park (the Anthony Henday roundabout hadn’t been built in those days).

Then of course 22 months ago my dad died from cancer.

Today I was in a grocery store in downtown Edmonton and a new sit down Swiss Chalet had opened (before it had been only a take-out place).

So I went there tonight.

The quarter rotisserie chicken, the gravy, the baked potato and the dinner bun were as good as I remember from the meals my dad and I had in the Capilano Swiss Chalet.

So it was like old times again.

And in a certain sense, I seemed to feel my dad’s presence again.

Life should taste as good as Swiss Chalet- that old slogan went.

And when my dad was alive- life did taste as good as Swiss Chalet.

Maybe when my dad’s estate is finally and completely and totally settled and the funds from it are finally dispersed between my sister and me and I move to Vancouver where I now want to live- then again maybe life will taste as good as Swiss Chalet.

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