Haiku About 2nd Day of Spring At Vancouver’s English Bay
Haiku About 2nd Day of Spring At Vancouver’s English Bay
Down at English Bay
sun is high but breeze is cold
typical March day
Sidney Seagull Private Eye
Sidney Seagull Private Eye
British Columbia’s most famous seagull Sidney had opened up a private eye’s office on the beach at Vancouver’s English Bay.
He sat around drinking a bottle of bourbon and smoking a cigar while he waited for his first client to show up.
He got a lot of peculiar looks from human passers-by as he did so.
His friend Red Herring Gull flew in to see what he was doing.
“Hi Sid,” Red greeted him, “what’s up?”.
“I’ve decided to go into the private eye business, sweetheart,” Sidney answered in a Humphrey Bogart sounding voice.
“And are you coming out of the closet in the process as well?” Red asked, “You just called me sweetheart.”
“Of course not, you moron,” Sidney choked on his bourbon and cigar, “that’s just the way private eyes talk.”
“Sidney,” a female seagull who sounded a lot like Ingrid Bergman flew into his office.
“Why of all the private eye offices on all the beaches in all the world did she have to fly into this one?” Sidney buried his head in his fedora hat.
“Oh Sidney,” the seagull whose name was Ilsa sighed, “we’ll always have Paris.”
“Funny you should mention Paris,” Sidney belched bourbon, “Miss Hilton was quite pissed off when I crapped all over her dress.”
“I’m talking about Paris France, silly,” Ilsa batted her false eyelashes at him.
“I got the point right on the top of the Eiffel Tower,” Sidney recalled, “most painful enema I’ve ever had in my life.”
“Oh Sidney,” Ilsa started to cry and her mascara flowed like rain along the beach, “why are you so angry?”.
“Gees, I don’t know,” Sidney’s seagull lips dripped with sarcasm, “maybe it was because I was sitting alone in the rain looking stupid on a statue of Charles de Gaulle holding a note that said ‘Dear Rick, I find I have to suddenly leave Paris without you. Love, Ilsa’. That note pissed me off for two reasons. Reason #1: You had forgotten my name because you called me Rick and not Sidney. Reason # 2: You suddenly had to leave Paris without me.”
“Oh, Sidney, you’ve changed,” Ilsa sobbed.
“Of course I’ve changed,” Sidney replied, ” you think I’d wear the same suit that I wore in Paris? With all those coffee stains on it as a result of all those clumsy French waiters?”.
“You don’t understand, Rick,” Ilsa had forgotten Sidney’s name again, “that day when we were supposed to leave Paris together… the day when they started selling German sausages at stands along the Champs-Élysées… I received word that my husband did not die in a hockey training camp after all. He was alive and well and living in Paris. I had to leave Paris with him.”
“What? You couldn’t have dumped your husband and eloped with a bum like me?” Sidney swallowed his cigar, “what’s good enough for the Kardashians isn’t good enough for you?”.
“You don’t understand, Sidney,” Ilsa was crying as much now as a guest would on one of those sisterly blubberfests on the old Oprah Winfrey Show, “my husband is a leader in the Czech resistance movement and he’d fail without my love and support.”
“And as leader of the Czech resistance movement,” Sidney reached for another bottle of bourbon, “just what is it that he’s supposed to be resisting?”.
“Well,” Ilsa replied, “as leader of the Czech resistance movement, he always resisted losing at Chess.”
Just then a blackbird landed on the beach.
The blackbird had a harmonica in his mouth.
“Sam,” Ilsa greeted him, “play it Sam.”
The blackbird looked at Sidney, “That all right with you, boss?”.
Sidney winced as he said, “Play it Sam.”
And so Sam the Blackbird played Here We Go Round The Mulberry Bush on his harmonica.
At that moment Jonathan Livingstone Seagull flew overhead.
He had spent New Year’s Day down in the state of Colorado where they had just legalized the sale of cannabis.
While Jonathan was busy singing that old John Denver song The Colorado Rocky Mountain High, he failed to notice the giant redwood tree in Stanley Park directly in front of him and flew into it- knocking himself out in the process.
At that moment, a falcon flew into Sidney’s office.
The falcon spoke in an unknown language.
“What the Hell are you saying?” Sidney spit out his bourbon.
“I think it’s Maltese,” Red said, “I watched a documentary on Malta on The History Channel last night.”
“You mean they occasionally show other programs on The History Channel besides that stupid American Pickers?” Sidney spit out his bourbon again.
“Sorry,” the Maltese falcon spoke, “I forgot you speak English here.”
At that moment a dog whose name was Sam walked by crying, “I’ve just been spayed. I’ve just been spayed.”
“We’ll be seeing you later, Sam spayed,” Sidney spoke in his Bogart voice as he had been speaking all afternoon.
The Maltese falcon spoke to Ilsa, “I’ve been sent here by your husband to put you directly on a flight to Sochi, Russia. Your husband has been named Captain of the Czech National Hockey Team- the first seagull in history to receive this honour and he’ll be playing in the 2014 Winter Olympics.”
“But why does she need to fly to Sochi now?” Sidney asked between shots of bourbon, “The Winter Olympics are still another month away.”
“Yes but the line-ups for the best borscht soup and beef stroganoff in town have already started,” the Maltese falcon answered, “and your husband wants to be the first in line.”
A sea plane landed on the water by the beach at English Bay.
An old-time train conductor (still waiting for his ship to come in) opened the door of the sea plane and shouted, “Next flight to Sochi, Russia. All aboard.”
“Oh Rick,” Ilsa sobbed on Sidney’s shoulder, “I don’t want to get on that plane. Tell me what I should do and I’ll do it.”
“The name’s Sidney and it looks like I’ll have to do the thinking for both of us. And in the alcoholic haze I’m in, that’s going to take a great deal of talent on my part,” Sidney answered, “Look I may not be the most noble guy in the world… in fact I haven’t been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize even once. But I do know this. The problems of two seagulls don’t amount to a a hill of beans in this world. They amount to a hill of something else. But if you don’t get on that plane, you’ll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday and soon.”
“Good-bye Rick,” Ilsa kissed him and boarded the plane.
“The name’s Sidney,” Sidney remarked as the plane flew off into the sunset.
“You know, Sidney,” Red broke the silence, “you know how you said you thought you looked stupid sitting alone on a statue of Charles de Gaulle in the rain?”.
“Yeah,” Sidney nodded sadly.
“Well personally I think anyone would look stupid sitting on a statue of Charles de Gaulle whatever the weather,” Red stated.
“You know, Louis,” Sidney grinned at him, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
“The name’s Red,” Red answered, “and if you want me, whistle.”
They walked into the water together as Sam the blackbird played on his harmonica the song whose lyrics went, “Does your memory stray to a bright summer day when I laughed and called you sweetheart…”
The unconscious body of Jonathan Livingstone Seagull floated by.
Sidney took off his fedora in a sign of respect and said, “Here’s looking at you, kid.”
-A Sidney Seagull short story
written by Christopher
Friday January 3rd
2014.
Haiku About Vancouver Weather Today
Hot humid weather
The city is sweltering
storm is coming soon
Cerberus and Pan Goatee In Vancouver
Cerberus and Pan Goatee In Vancouver
Pan Goatee had been reading all the Sydney Seagull poems that Dracul Van Helsing had written.
So he decided to go to Vancouver and see this strange eccentric bird for himself.
But after astral projecting himself to English Bay, he frightened off all the seagulls since he was carrying his astral machete with him.
Most of the humans on the beach were too stoned to be frightened by his astral machete.
Either that or they were pointing at it and saying in a brain dead zombie like voice, “Wow. That’s really cool, man.”
Pan Goatee who shared the Ancient Greek passion for true intellectual contemplation of the Realm of Platonic Forms thought these idiots were incapable of it and so beheaded them all thus reducing the amount of support for the Yes side in a possible B.C. Provincial Referendum on Marijuana Decriminalization to say nothing of reducing the base of support for Justin Trudeau’s Canadian Federal Liberal Party.
Since Pan Goatee did not know his way around Vancouver, he decided to call a halt to his astral projection and ride the Vancouver Transit System that all the travel books raved about.
But seeing as how today was the second round of the Honda Celebration of Light Vancouver Fireworks Festival Competition (and the host country of Canada was tonight’s competitor) the buses in Vancouver were full of $&@!ing people much to Pan Goatee’s disgust.
He went around beheading people left, right and centre (and even totally apathetic when it came to the political spectrum) in a one half-man half-goat attempt to make a dent in the world’s 7 billion population mark.
He tried boarding the next bus because the one he was on although now empty stank to high-heaven.
That one too was crowded- this one filled with people going to the Justin Timberlake concert being held tonight in Vancouver.
Pan Goatee raged, “Justin Timberlake? I hate that guy for making Britney Spears cry.”
Although he had only been genetically created this year, a recent well-done documentary on MTV that he had watched had brought him up to speed on the music scene of the past 20 years.
Sadly his astral machete now required sharpening and there wasn’t an astral sharpening saw in sight.
He happened to see the 3-headed dog Cerberus astral project on to the scene.
Cerberus actually wanted to astral project to the Palace of Westminster in London, England but he made the mistake of asking a recently reformed alcoholic (who had only sworn off booze a few days before) for directions.
And this was where he wound up- in downtown Vancouver British Columbia.
“Cerberus,” Pan Goatee cried out to him, “this bus is full of damned souls aka Justin Timberlake fans. Come and eat them.”
Cerberus wagged his tail in a friendly fashion as he hadn’t had anything to eat in several days.
He boarded the bus and with his 3 heads that all required a carnivourous non-vegetarian diet bit and chewed and swallowed anyone and everyone in sight.
In the aftermath, all that was left on the bus was a lot of blood and a bunch of bodiless Justin Timberlake shirts.
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday July 31st 2013.
A Tale of Two Tides
In mid-afternoon a very very very low tide
the water is way out
the children’s water slide
is a water slide no more
but a slide on dry land.
Stirling Stork is down in the low-lying water
Stirling Stork who only makes his appearance
when it’s low-tide.
And rocks which can’t be seen at high tide are there
jutting out on the beach.
And there on the rocks sits Sidney Seagull
like a glass of fine malt whisky.
Evening and the tide is high
Blondie should be singing her song now.
High tide
the children’s water slide
is a water slide again.
Stirling Stork is nowhere to be seen
Stirling Stork who only makes his appearance
when it’s low-tide.
And the rocks are nowhere to be seen
but buried beneath the waves like Atlantis.
And Sidney Seagull is likewise gone
like a glass of fine malt whisky in W. C. Fields’ hand.
-A poem written by Christopher
Saturday night
July 13th 2013
based on what he observed at
2 different times of day
mid-afternoon and late evening
at English Bay, Vancouver, British Columbia
on this day.
Children’s Joy On The Beach
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
Hula Hoop Dancer On The Beach
Hula hoop girl dancing on the beach
her colourful summer floral skirt flirls
around with the hoop.
The disc of the sun is setting
and the disc of the hoop goes faster and faster
around her hips
around her legs
around her arms
around her feet
a hula hoop dance impresario
dancing in the summer sun.
She dances with joy
she dances with carefree abandon
she is a child of the sun
a child of the sky
a child of the sea
she dances with joy
she dances to be
she dances like one
in the dance of the free.
-A poem written by Christopher
Tuesday night July 9th 2013
based on what he observed this evening
at English Bay, Vancouver, British Columbia
Late June Evening On English Bay
An evening in late June
summer has come at last
waves pound the shore
sounding a joyful blast
and here on English Bay
as the sun departs from day
endless sea and endless sky
stretches below that golden eye
rays of gold and purple hue
cling to the sky like an evening dew
a horizon that stretches neverendingly
here on golden waves that crown silver sea.
-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday evening
June 30th 2013
Cinco de Mayo Summer Day In Vancouver
Happy Cinco de Mayo everyone!
After going to Church this morning, I spent the day on the beach at English Bay where it was a glorious sunshiney day.
Since coming to Vancouver, one thing I’ve noticed while eating in restaurants here is that people often take photos of their lunches and dinners prior to eating them.
It’s a habit that hasn’t really caught on in Edmonton at the time I left it last October.
However it’s probably big elsewhere as it is in Vancouver because this would explain why photos from my Facebook friends from all over the world often have photos of food and drink.
They take photos before they eat or drink what they’re having.
I remember in one Korean restaurant I was in about a week ago, I wondered if the food was going to get cold because there was a group of 20 people sitting at one table. And everybody was taking a photo of everyone else’s plate of food as well as their own. Nobody started eating until all the photos were taken.
Memo to myself: Remember to eat something before the meal if I’m ever invited to a large group gathering eating out because I might die of starvation by the time everyone finishes taking their smart phone photos of everyone’s dish.
This will probably give rise to the expression “photogenic food”.
Anyways while I was at the beach, there was this guy and girl who sat down on the log next to me and both of them had ice cream cones.
The girl took out her smart phone and was trying to line up the perfect picture to take of her ice cream cone- something difficult to do while holding an ice cream cone in one hand and a smart phone in the other.
Anyways it was a hot summer day on the beach and she was taking so long to take the perfect photo of her ice cream cone (no doubt to upload to her friends on Facebook) that the ice cream cone started to melt.
Pretty soon it was really melting all over the place.
“Oh shoot,” the girl said, “I can’t take a picture of this now. It’s melted all over the place.”
Anyways her boyfriend finally grabbed her smart phone and took a photo of both her and the melted ice cream cone.
An image that will no doubt live in posterity on someone’s Facebook page.
Later in the early evening I went to a bar and had a refreshing drink to cool down.
People who read my vampire novel and my short stories no doubt have noticed that I love making up and telling my own puns.
Anyways the bar was quite busy tonight.
There were 3 bartenders on and they were trying to fill all the drink orders.
Then one girl called out to the other two and said, “Will someone please grab me another Caesar?”.
Note to my American readers: A Caesar is a popular drink up here in Canada. It’s made of vodka and clamato juice (Clamato is a combination of clam and tomato juice- I’ve been told that Clamato juice isn’t so popular in the U.S. and hence a Caesar is a uniquely Canadian drink).
Anyways as soon as this girl said, “Will someone please grab me another Caesar?”, I immediately piped up, “That’s what a Roman general once said when the latest Roman Emperor had just been assassinated by his own Praetorian Guard, will someone please grab me another Caesar?”.
And that dear friends is how I spent my Cinco de Mayo summer day in Vancouver.
