Tag Archives: poetry

The Spot Writers – “Where Is the Love?”

Welcome to The Spot Writers. This month’s prompt is to choose a news article. Find 5 words in the article that jump out at you. Write a story using those words.

This week’s contribution comes from Cathy MacKenzie. Cathy’s novel, WOLVES DON’T KNOCK, a psychological drama, is available from her locally or on Amazon. MISTER WOLFE, the sequel, coming soon, as well as MY BROTHER, THE WOLF, the last of the series.

***

“Where Is the Love?” by Cathy MacKenzie

 

I don’t have to look at newspaper blurbs

To find five words

That jump out at me,

I don’t need to see

Ones that’ll stand out.

 

The ones that’ll shout

To me

Are these three:

Covid, social-distancing, death—

Seniors taking their last breath—

And these two:

Health and ICU.

 

This month of June

Couldn’t come too soon

But not much has changed,

The world is still deranged

And crazy.

 

People are lazy

And lackadaisical,

Recognizable,

Ignoring masks

And other tasks.

 

What happened to social-distancing

And outdistancing,

Groups of ten

And wise women and men?

 

Summer is here,

We want to be near,

But without health

What is wealth?

Money or not,

Life can’t be bought.

 

I fear I exist

And co-exist

In a dream,

A nightmare

From which I’ll never wake

To give my head a shake.

 

Despite upheaval

And evil,

Can we pray

For words to say

That won’t hurt

And phrases we won’t blurt

Without thinking,

Without blinking

An eye?

 

I look to the sky

And pray for change,

That we may re-arrange

Priorities

And help minorities,

That peace can prevail

Despite a gale.

 

Where is the love

Once sent from God above?

***

The Spot Writers—Our Members:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.ca/

 

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What Is Time?

This poem tied for first place in a small group I belong to. Thing is, only two entries were submitted. The idea is to give a “heart” to your favourite entry. Well, with only two of us entering, the other contestant voted for mine and I voted for hers. Not sure either of us can claim a win, ha ha.

This is the image we had to write to.

time

“What Is Time?”

What is time
But passing rhyme,
Breath,
Death.

Illusion of space,
Running the race,
Limbs that move,
In the groove.

A loving embrace,
A lonely chase,
Hearts that beat,
Friends who meet.

Tidal waves,
Stalactites in caves,
Serenading song,
Ding, dong.

Seconds, minutes, hours,
A dream sours,
Sand in the hourglass,
Thru the looking glass.

A new week,
Straining to seek,
Undiscovered days,
A different phase.

Out with the old,
In with the cold,
Shouldering storms,
Until life warms.

Sweating the heat,
Pluralize cheat,
Open your eyes,
Catch the lies.

Stars in the sky,
Moon hanging high,
The setting sun,
Day is done.

Oh, what is time
But passing rhyme,
Hands on the clock,
Tick, tock.

+++
C.A. MacKenzie is the author of (among other books) the novel WOLVES DON’T KNOCK, a psychological drama/thriller, available from the author or at various retailers including Amazon [https://www.amazon.com/Wolves-Dont-Knock-C-MacKenzie/dp/1927529387/].

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The Spot Writers “Our ‘New Normal'”

Welcome to The Spot Writers. This month’s prompt is to write a “never have/had I ever” story.

This week’s contribution comes from Cathy MacKenzie. Cathy’s novel, WOLVES DON’T KNOCK, a psychological drama, is available from her locally or on Amazon. MISTER WOLFE, the sequel, coming soon! As well as MY BROTHER, THE WOLF, the last of the series.

***

“Our ‘New Normal’” by Cathy MacKenzie

Never had I ever
Expected to break my wrist—
Or any bone—
Is this the beginning of the end?

Perhaps it was, for:

Never had I ever
Heard such terms:
Physical-distancing, flattening the curve…
What the heck!

Never had I ever
Thought self-isolation would be cruel
And unusual punishment,
For no wrong of mine!

Never had I ever
Imagined imprisonment at home
Other than once-a-week outings for essentials,
Though it’s safer staying home!

Never had I ever
Thought I’d be afraid to grocery shop
Or enter another store—even step outdoors,
But the money I’m saving!

Never had I ever
Imagined I’d be yelled at
For walking down an aisle,
What are those floor arrows?

Never had I ever
Imagined ER treatment like a leper
Because of my postal code,
Isn’t that discrimination?

Never had I ever
Thought I’d be forced to don a mask
Other than on Halloween,
But it hides my wrinkles!

Never had I ever
Thought hugs and family gatherings
Would be forbidden,
The technological alternative does not cut it!

Never had I ever…
Thought the world would change as it has.
Never had I imagined a virus would—or could—
Shut down the world.
Oh, 2020, what have you done?
The year isn’t half over and
The news is too grim to watch
And Nova Scotia mourns and mourns…
Covid-19 deaths of too many elderly,
Canada’s worst mass shooting of twenty-three,
Six dead in a military helicopter crash.
On our porches we left boots for Dylan
And lights to guide him home,
A wee bit of hope that soon died.

So many “never-had-I-evers”…

Alas, the world has changed
And not for the better,
But when our “normal” returns
Perhaps people
Will change to better the world.
We can only hope and pray.
But I have my doubts.

***

The Spot Writers—Our Members:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.ca/

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Happy Mother’s Day

Sharing the poem I wrote today for my ever-missed mother, titled “A Poem for My Mother.”

Mom recent

I tried to grasp that shooting star,

The one I eyed from afar,

The largest one,

Greater than the sun.

 

I missed and reached for another,

A beautiful one like my mother,

A lovely luminous flame,

A true lady, a delightful dame.

 

But that’s pretend, a magical lie,

For who can reach that high

Let alone snatch a star from night

To selfishly rob Heaven of light.

 

And I’d not want to spoil the sight

By taking the loveliest light

Or remove it from its rightful place

And leave a senseless space.

 

But this special day is for my mother,

There can be no other,

And if I could, I’d borrow her star,

Whisk her away in a red sports car.

 

I’d share my every thought,

All that which past years wrought,

Everything the sun and moon kissed

Over the last four years she’s missed.

 

I have many such lights above,

All of whom I dearly love,

Father, grandparents, cousins, son,

I pray for them when day is done.

 

Oh, how I wish dreams came true,

That life didn’t sometimes morph to blue,

That death could be forever flowers

Flourishing ‘neath soothing showers.

 

Mom

 

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The Spot Writers – “Carpe Diem” by Val Muller

Welcome to the Spot Writers. This month’s prompt is “never have/had I ever.” Today’s writing comes to us from Val Muller, author of the Corgi Capers kidlit mystery series. Find out more at www.corgicapers.com.

The dandelion, pictured below, served as inspiration for this poem.

“Carpe Diem” by Val Muller

 

Val flower pic

Never had I ever thought

I’d wait for bread in line

Or that a Meatless Monday

Would happen in my time.

 

Never had I ever thought

I’d stare at empty shelves,

Or panic when I coughed a bit

Or gasped for breath if I yelled.

 

Never had I ever thought

I’d live to see the day

When the 1918 pandemic

Came back again this way.

 

Never had I ever thought

The schools would shut their doors,

That I’d wash my hands ‘til raw

After a dangerous visit to a store.

 

Never had I ever thought

I’d be shuttered in my home,

To work from screen and keyboard

And to communicate—alone.

 

Never in my busy life

Had I ever banked on this:

That time, my short commodity,

Was now given as a gift.

 

Never had I ever seen

Dandelions graced by the rain

While tiptoeing through chilly dew:

It was like childhood again,

 

That timeless sense of wonder,

The lack of any rush,

To watch raindrops melt off flowers

In the early morning’s hush.

 

Never I, since growing up,

Felt wonder flow so free

As when this time afforded me to sit

While the trees whispered in the breeze,

Or when I watched a honey bee

Floating through the trees.

And while the world slows down a while

In fear of this disease,

And stresses about washing hands

And worrying when we sneeze,

We’re forced to wait—actionless—

While Fates do what they please:

The beauty’s there for those who’ll see,

Who can take the day—and seize!

***

The Spot Writers—Our Members:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/

+++
C.A. MacKenzie is the author of (among other books) the novel WOLVES DON’T KNOCK, a psychological drama/thriller, available from the author or at various retailers including Amazon [https://www.amazon.com/Wolves-Dont-Knock-C-MacKenzie/dp/1927529387/].

 

 

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Happy Fortieth, Matthew

deer candle

Dear Matt,

I think of you today

As I do every day,

Days like these

With special memories

Are harder to bear.

 

I like to think you’re high

Above, looking down

Upon us,

Living life through us,

Not completely dead.

 

I’d visit you if I could,

We all would,

We’d throw cares to the wind,

To hell with social-distancing,

And have a happy party.

 

We’d bring you a cake

Lit with 40 candles,

We’d help you snuff out

The flickering flames,

Make wondrous wishes.

 

We’d cut the cake,

Plate the biggest piece for you,

The corner with the most icing,

And watch you enjoy

Sweet decadence.

 

We wish we could

Erase the past,

Turn the clock to better times,

The world’s gone crazier…

And crazier…

 

But we’ll cherish memories

Water cannot douse

Nor wind could blast away,

We’ll keep you in our hearts,

Shed private tears.

 

Happy fortieth, Matthew,

Happy birthday!

I lit a candle for you today

And blew out the flame,

Omitting useless wishes.

Matt nine years old 001 (2)Matt from C FB

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“My Support” (even in death)

I spent agonizing hours yesterday trying to compose this month’s poem. To no avail. I left it and came back to it a few hours later, when this poem just flowed. Same topic; just couldn’t write it at that particular time, I guess.

(37 months)

“My Support”

You supported me

When I couldn’t stand,

You were there…

Waiting…

Unknown to me

When I fell

On the third anniversary

Of your death,

When I crawled like a baby—

Or an old woman

Without wits—

Over the icy snow

To reach your headstone,

Where I could haul myself up,

Leaning with my good arm

On your stone.

 

We laughed,

Elizabeth and I,

For it was funny—

Funnily sad—

She had fallen seconds before I had,

Bruising her bum,

And me: breaking my wrist,

My first broken bone—

An old woman

Even older a month later—

A mother

Who just wanted to visit

Remains of her son—

Remnants from a dreadful day

Three years ago—

But unable to accomplish a simple feat

Without mishap.

 

I swear I heard you laughing

And your words, “Oh, Mom!”

And then, “I gotta go.”

Matt hunting

If you enjoyed this poem and would like to read more, check out the book I published on the third anniversary of Matthew’s death.  MY HEART IS BROKEN

Matt book of poems full cover for wp

 

 

 

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The Spot Writers – “Ticky Tacky” by Phil Yeats

Welcome to the Spot Writers. This month’s prompt was created using a random generator. Use these five words in a writing: suntan, paint, waterfall, inflation, exposure.

Today’s post is written by Phil Yeats. In December, 2019, Phil (using his Alan Kemister pen name) published his most recent novel. Tilting at Windmills, the second in the Barrettsport Mysteries series of soft-boiled police detective stories set in an imaginary Nova Scotia coastal community is available on Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/Tilting-Windmills-Barrettsport-Mysteries-Book-ebook/dp/B07L5WR948/

***

“Ticky Tacky” by Phil Yeats

When I was a young man in university, I imagined I’d make enough money to guard against inflation eroding my nest egg and killing my dream.

And my dream? To sail to a tropical island where I’d live in blissful isolation. Not a coral atoll where the maximum elevation was four feet, and I’d constantly fear exposure to global warming and sea level rise. No, I dreamed about an isolated spot on the flank of an extinct volcano where I could paint a waterfall and maintain an all-over suntan.

It didn’t work out that way. When I awoke from my university dream, I found myself in suburbia with a house, a wife, and two kids. If you want the gory details, you can look up the words to Malvina Reynolds song Little Boxes. It describes my life—the one I lived, not the one I dreamed.

 

‘Little boxes on the hillside

Little boxes made of ticky tacky

Little boxes on the hillside

Little boxes all the same’

***

The Spot Writers—Our Members:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/

 

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My Heart Is Broken – It Needs Fixing

My book of poems (the first three years) memorializing my son Matthew, who died of a rare heart cancer on March 11, 2017, is now published.

 

Matt book of poems full cover for wp

The book is available on

Amazon

or from me.

I am donating all profits from the sale of this book to the Kenzieville Cemetery, Kenzieville, Pictou County, Nova Scotia, where Matthew is buried. Matthew’s GGGG grandparents, who emigrated from Scotland in 1803, are buried there, as well as several branches of the MacKenzie line. The cemetery is run by volunteers and is always in need of funds.

 

 

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The Spot Writers – ‘Kiss this Right’ by Chiara De Giorgi

Welcome to The Spot Writers. This month’s prompt is to write a story or poem using the following words or images: memory, mist, moonlight, mosaic, mask.

 

This week’s story comes from Chiara De Giorgi. Chiara dreams, reads, edits texts, translates, and occasionally writes in two languages. She also has a lot of fun.

***

“Kiss this Right” by Chiara De Giorgi

 

There’s a memory I chase,

One which times threatens to erase.

 

We were kissing in the moonlight,

It was on midsummer’s night

And the wind blew soft and warm

Who could foresee the storm?

Quick the mist surrounded us,

Sudden chill clung like a mask

To our bodies and our minds.

Still today the terror finds

Its way to my poor, weak heart.

Did I think it would not hurt?

Then the memory gets shattered,

I don’t know what I remember.

It’s like an old-fashioned mosaic,

Like a page with splattered ink

And to this day I cannot say

Why the kiss did break away.

Have I dreamt or have I lived?

Was it real, or have I wished?

 

Once a year’s midsummer’s night

Maybe I can kiss this right.

***

The Spot Writers—Our Members:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/

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