Father’s Day 2019: A Poem
Father’s Day 2019: A Poem
Sundown
The end of the day
Early morning
And a new life will call
You were a dad
And a great one at that
But now is your time
To see the Heavenly Father’s face
Beyond the stars
Is a beautiful place
Beyond what we can dream
And what you see is now Eternity
You were a teacher most of your life
And come June the students would close their books
And you and they would embark on holiday
It’s somehow fitting that in the month of June
you would embark on your Heavenly holiday
A never ending story
You showed no fear
The day you went away
You went to your Father’s hands
The birth of a new day
-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday June 16th 2019.
This year’s Father’s Day.
-dedicated to my father George
who passed away 9 years ago
today
on June 16th 2010.
An Evening In The Month of June: A Poem
An Evening In The Month of June: A Poem
One pleasant evening in the month of June
As I was sitting with my glass and spoon
A small bird sang on an ivy brunch
And the song he sang was a jug of punch
And then she appeared riding a wild deer
On which sat her exquisite self and lovely rear
With her lips she was playing a lovely flute
So I said, wait, and grabbed my Irish lute…
She had recently lost a single red shoe
Somewhere up in the mountain dew
And so one of her feet was bare
Still she had lovely exquisite hair
The stag she rode had antlers prickly
Causing riders in front to move very quickly
On the antlers hung dangling apples
I wondered whether they were serpent trapples
So consequently I did not bite any apple
But on her lap I had a pleasant napple
And that’s how I spent the first night of June
The sun shines all day with very little moon
-A poem written by Christopher
Saturday June 1st
2019.
Inspired by an old Tommy Makem and The Clancy Brothers song
And the above picture
Jack O’ Hare and The Lovely Valley: A Poem
On the edge of the forest
as birds sang their chorus
a lonely jack rabbit did hoppily roam
He leapt through the valley
It was quite up his alley
’till he came to the edge of the fast flowing stream
In the background, the skylarks were singing
And on the hill, church bells were ringing
It was a symphony between heaven and nature
And Jack perked up his ears of very great stature
And hoped the poem’s readers would rhyme nate and state
As stats were damned lies according to Benjamin Disraeli
And the old man on the hill playing his ukulele
As the sun rose over valley and mountain
And Jack stopped to drink from the fountain
A beaver was building a home out of logs
And the effort was applauded by ribbiting of the frogs
Jack O’ Hare hopped contentedly on
making of this valley a home front lawn
it was for Jack a heavenly spot
where he avoided many a fox trot.
-A Jack O’ Hare poem
written by Christopher
Monday May 27th 2019.
The House On The Hill: A Poem
The house on the hill was haunted they say
That common belief helped keep people away
Only the brave ventured to play
At the house overlooking Appleton Way
What happened that night many years ago
whispered by people who claimed to know
was loud shots in the night
a desperate search for a light
A woman’s screams
Lace curtains falling at the seams
And then silence fell
No more would dwell
in that house on the hill
Tenancy rate fell to nil
Those who ventured inside that place above Appleton Way
would always return with their hair white or gray
even though their hair colour did not start out that way
when they ventured forth at the break of the day
Their mistake was not in returning before the sun set
Nightfall should have told them, this was no place to let
Visiting the place subject of many a bet
while dark mystery remains at the heart of the Net
It was with this in mind that young Rousseau set out
On a night when the wind was howling about
Dark clouds rolled in
The night blacker than sin
Lightning flashed
Thunder crashed
And of course the door of the house would naturally be opened wide
And Rousseau stepped across the threshold to where the unseen did abide
And Rousseau came face to face with the ghostly vision there
While rainy lightning in the window flashed glowing white glare
Rousseau’s thought then was different from what he had at the start of the day
With this supernatural life and supernatural sight he felt inclined to stay
So now he too inhabits the house above Appleton Way.
-A poem written by Christopher
Tuesday May 21st 2019.
Not An Algorithm: A Poem
In school, he never did well in Math
He was so much better in English, Language Arts
and Social Studies
Algebra perplexed him
Geometry hexed him
Shakespeare did inspire
History was his fire
The square root of pi did not make a dent
Lemon meringue pie made him content
And now a world of Facebook and social networking
would reduce him to an algorithm
By studying his likes and dislikes
they thought they would come to know him
That they could dissect his soul
The way a frog’s body was dissected in a biology lab
But one thing that not doing well in math had taught him
He was not an algorithm
He was so much more than an algorithm.
-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday May 12th 2019.
Melody By The Sea: A Poem
It was a melody by the sea
Played on strings for me
On the rocks she stood
With instrument of wood
And from that wood a symphony
That matched the rhythm of the sea
On the rocks waves crashed and golden sun did set
But neither her violin, bow or dress was wet
For the sea too loved the sound of her golden symphony
And gentle wind ruffled her hair in homage to her melody
-A poem written by Christopher
Wednesday May 1st 2019.
Memories of A Summer Day On My Uncle’s Farm: A Poem
Waking in the farm house on a summer day
The crowing of the rooster
The mooing of distant cows
And the glorious sunrise
The magnificent prairie sunrise
Whose rays burst like luminous fairies
Through the beautiful row of trees that faced the east side of the house
Breakfast of bacon and eggs whose aroma
Passed like an incense of delight through the house
After discovering the taste of paradise on the plates
Was an excellent offering to accompany the incense
It was outside in the yard with cousin Bill
And the dogs Trixie and Baldie
Then walking through fields of gold
As the wheat rose from the soil
Like golden arms waving to the sun above
Down to Rosebud Creek which flowed through valleys so green
On the other side of the creek
The remains of a castle
Built by a man called Levi Bone
An eccentric Englishman who came to the Canadian prairie
And decided to build himself a castle
And did so
Before sunset Bill and I would walk the country road that rolled west
From the farm house towards the horizon of the setting sun
And as we walked down hill through valleys so green
The sun would shine its rays on westward hills
above the valley
And fields of gold
would give way to colours of vibrant purple, red and blue
A landscape in truly living colour
that the Creator would paint each night
Those days were truly golden like the fields we walked through
And the rays of the sun that bid its adieu to us on distant hills.
-A poem written by Christopher
Friday April 5th 2019.
Basil and The Basilisk: A Poem
Basil was a farmer about his business
He milked the cows
fed the pigs
and gathered eggs of the chickens
But he did not enter the green barn
For the green barn contained a creature
he would have no dealings with.
The green barn was leased by Set Enterprises in London
Whatever experiments in that barn went beyond that sanctioned
by both God and man
Dr. Cadbury Rocher who showed up in a black Jaguar car one day
And then a red Jaguar car the next
And went around saying “The devil is in the details”
Gave Basil the farmer both a medieval bestiary
and the Naturalis Historia of Pliny the Elder
And marked pages saying, “Read, should you feel the inclination
to enter the green barn”
Now Basil’s Latin wasn’t exactly up to snuff
(his wife had cured him of the irritating habit of sticking
tobacco up his nose and then sneezing when they were first married)
but J.K. Rowling occasionally came to the Farmers’ Market in a nearby town to shop
So he asked her to translate from the original Latin
What he heard from Rowling turned his hair on end
He told his wife what he had heard
And both agreed they should never enter the green barn
Not of course they had any inkling to do so before
For a giant rooster in a cage had been taken into the barn
and then a giant snake in a cage
Then the sound of two different species but same genders co-mingling
in the night
While the Baphomet stood outside the barn saying,
“Everything is all right,
We need to open our minds
And cast aside old prejudices”
Pope Francis gave his apostolic blessing
via satellite transmission
and the Mayor of San Francisco said
This was bringing tears to his eyes
One night a man came to the farmhouse door
claiming to be a traveling guru
And asking food and shelter for the night
Basil and Bella agreed.
“There is no God”, the guru assured them with the solemnity of a Richard Dawkins
And then smiled,
“For God is within”
He took some Rolaids tablets for his heartburn
“There is no Devil either,” the guru smiled, “We create our own gods and devils. Good and evil are within us.”
He chewed some Exlax tablets
“And then project those outwards on to our surroundings”
“Where is your washroom?” The guru asked Farmer Basil
for the aftereffects of the externally applied medication
turned out to be fast acting.
“And there are times we are called upon to run like the wind”
The traveling guru remarked as he ran up the stairs
When he came back, he asked, “Where should I sleep?”
“I hope you don’t mind the kitchen floor,” Farmer Basil replied,
“For we only have the one bedroom and my wife and I
just bought the Dracul Van Helsing Guide To Tantric Sex and are looking forward to applying it tonight”
“We just watched MP Renfield R. Renfield on the telly tonight,” Bella smiled, “he was complaining about the fact that Van Helsing had tantric sex with the current heiress to the Queen of Sheba’s throne in Jerusalem last Saturday and then had tantric sex with the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec during a raging sea storm on the Isle of Patmos last night”
“Such astounding declarations make me wonder whether it was right for me to take the path of celibacy,” the guru had temporarily lost his beatific Buddha like smile
“What about the green barn over there?” The guru pointed outside,
“It seems very large. I could sleep there.”
“That is the habitat of the Basilisk,” Basil replied, “a creature of legend and mythology that has been resurrected in the modern world
thanks to the Transhumanist experiments of one Dr. Cadbury Rocher of
Set Enterprises”
“Basilisk?” The guru blinked.
“A serpent king that is a hybrid of a rooster and a serpent” Basil answered
“And like Empire actor Jussie Smollett,” Bella added, “is immune to criminal prosecution since it’s considered politically incorrect to do so.”
Basil went on, “The Basilisk is so venomous, it leaves a wide trail of deadly venom in its wake. And its gaze is likewise lethal.”
“The sort of entity that Bill Clinton would marry but not have an extramarital affair with,” Bella pointed out.
“Well, I ain’t afraid of no Basilisk,” the guru paraphrased a lyric from the theme song to the original 1984 Ghostbusters movie.
Basil and Bella looked at him.
“Like I’ve been trying to tell you, we create our own reality,” the guru said, “Like attracts like. Positive attracts positive. Negative attracts negative. I shall enter the green barn with positive thoughts and no harm shall come to me.”
The guru entered the barn.
There was no noise.
Basil and Bella went back into the farmhouse.
The next morning a Set Enterprises team came out like they did every morning
Dressed like Star Wars Imperial Stormtroopers in their protective suits
They carried out the body of the guru
who had turned to stone
Under the Basilisk’s venemous gaze
(As did creatures under Medusa’s gaze of old)
The Basilisk was obviously not subject to whatever reality
The guru thought he could create
with his own mind.
-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday March 26th
2019.
Bella has gazed on many things but will not gaze on the Basilisk
When Cultures Meet: Reflections On Love, War and Conquest – A Short Poem
War can conquer a man’s body and surroundings
But it is the dance that conquers a man’s heart
Haiku For 75th Anniversary of D-Day
June 6, 2019 at 8:30 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, News, Poetry) (75th Anniversary of D-Day, Allied Forces, D-Day, haiku, Holden Legion Hall War Memorial Mural, Invasion of Normandy, poem)
Normandy’s beaches
The ultimate sacrifice
But spirit lives on
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