Throw-back Thursday

One of my favourites.

Voices on the Wind


Mid-summer’s eve
Light the bone fire
Amid the standing stones

Fire, moon, and harper’s song
Sacred triad
Gate to Tir Na N’og

Into the green
Where the Kowrie live
And the stag chases the moon

The music calls
And I must follow
Into the Summerheart



Morning haiku

Woken by sunshine

Beaming through the window pane

My heart is joyful


Beautiful sunrise

Filtering through the dark trees

Quiet morning peace


Take a single step

Spasms radiate outward

Pain steals away thought


Thoughts on sleep

You are the moon to me

Behind the clouds you are the most beautiful thing in the night sky

Unhidden, you are radiant


I’ve always been a night owl.  When I was a kid it was *really* bad, I’d lay in bed for hours every night, staring at the walls and the ceiling (you know you spend too much time staring at the ceiling when you are thankful for the stucco for giving you something to think about while you find faces and other patterns).  Then of course, I had to get up early for school, so I was constantly tired.  I remember when I was quite young I was so desperate to get some sleep I’d sneak gravol (Dramamine in the US) just so I could quasi-function the next day at school.  This is a problem.  We don’t all have the same settings for our sleep schedules, some people’s brains are just wired differently.  I sometimes wonder if my school years would have been different had I been able to actually be well-rested.  Instead I spent years in a sleep-deprived haze of cloudy and unfocused thoughts.

These thoughts brought to you at nearly 3am.

Looking for the light

I was an unhappy teenager, a lot of the time.  I didn’t fit in, I didn’t understand *why* I didn’t fit in.  I had no idea what I was doing wrong, or why it seemed to come so naturally for everyone else.

That probably explains why the majority of my poetry was dark and/or depressing.  …Actually, I’d go so far as to say 99.9% of it, through my early 20’s.  I, of course, wrote very angsty things but a few of them still resonate with me, even if they’re a bit heavy-handed.  I was looking at one and it hit me just how relevant it is to the current US presidency.  I wrote it when I was 17.  …I find that somewhat discombobulating.


The needs of the many

outweigh the needs of the few

yet the whims of the few

control the lives of the many.

Are we the people

so inconsequential and irrelevant

that we need not be considered?

Are our lives

and the lives and futures of our children

to be callously used and tossed away,

All for a whim?

They say they care about us

and about making us happy

but when it comes down to it

they follow their ambitions

and we must follow blindly

like thick-witted cattle,

waiting to be milked dry

or slaughtered to feed the rich.


The good of the many is being sacrificed

for the good of the few.


See what I mean about heavy-handed?  But seriously, how could this possibly describe one of the most powerful countries of our world?  This should describe a country known for their human rights violations and their horrific barbarism, or some dystopian story, not “the leaders of the free world”.  It should be a melodramatic rendition of things rather than practically a syllabus.

Things are dark out there, and they keep getting darker.  We need to keep looking for the light.  Looking for the helpers, like Mr. Rogers said.  Better yet, be one ourselves.  We will find others to stand beside us.  We must stand.  We must speak.  We must not allow the past to repeat itself this time.

Eye Dreamed of Reality




Images moving about

flashes of light

and wells of darkness

Convoluted shapes and forms parade around

thoughts whirl in chaotic disarray

ideas writhe in glorious abandon

completely unintelligible to any but themselves

shadow forms floating

in a sea of illusions

hauntingly beautiful voices

just out of reach

Misty visions

seen through a clouded reason

a fogged reality

a dream eye unfocused


Read Harder Challenge 2017

My friend Krista told me about this last year but I was already doing a different one and didn’t feel up to putting in the effort of adding this.  This year I rose to the challenge (pun gleefully intended).

I wasn’t certain what to expect as far as the types of books that I would be requested to read but I’ve had a really good time coming up with titles to fill each of the slots.  It has definitely forced me to broaden my reading horizons a bit and I must say that I’ve really enjoyed the vast majority of what I’ve read.  ….it also got me to plow into my prodigious “to read” pile.  It’s now smaller!  Woot!  ….that won’t last.

One of the categories was “Read a collection of poetry in translation on a theme other than love” and I was fairly leery.  I *write* poetry, but other than my friend Tanah’s I don’t generally *read* it.  There’s a discussion thread for each of the categories which I found helpful because there were all sorts of suggestions of books to read, but I actually found my choice for this one by searching on the greater web.  I found a suggestion on Amazon for a book called “Are you an echo?” by Misuzu Kaneko which was getting some really nice reviews and sounded intriguing because they were previously lost poems by someone who was very well-thought of in her time.

Once it arrived I was really pleased to find that it not only had a collection of her poetry but also a sweet story of her life. It was an unexpected and interesting peek into life in another culture in another time.

Throwback Thursday(esque)

I’ve decided to put up some of my old poetry occasionally.  Some of it was objectively terrible (you won’t be seeing those) but I quite like some of them.  Poetry has always been a sort of cathartic force for me.  I have written almost all of them when I was dealing with intense (usually negative) feelings and I needed a way of parcelling those feelings, a way to make them a bit more manageable and bearable.

Misty forest

Mists of time

clouding everything

the future

lost in the past.

The mists cover the beast

that we may follow its tracks

yet blunder blindly into it.

SB, ’90