poets page

 

Peter's Poem

Pattimari's Poem

Haiti
Do you hear us
Do you feel us
We are reaching
As far as we can
People are marching
Singing
Giving

People stand up
And give what you can
Offer a hand
Over there in the broken land

Open your heart
Reach within
It's no sin
Go ahead and bend
Reach out
We are all akin
Let’s sing within
Together we stand

 2010

 

The Mighty Pen
By Peter

January, February, March, April, May

birds are singing and children are at play

All our writers and poets with their pens in hand

spewing out their rhymes of joy and their stories grand

The juices flow, the words they glow,

 with wonderful tales of Joy and Woe

And when the final words they place

filled with a little arsenic and lace

On the readers’ bookshelves, each and all,

Will find a very special place

 

I don’t know if this will work, but I just created videos from two of my poems about snow. Here are the links, if that will work. J

 

Autumn Morning Surprise https://youtu.be/icP7Cr___iY

Snow is a Four-Letter Word https://youtu.be/RsEpPC_rZPw

 

Thanks so much!

 

MARCHA FOX

 

STAR TRAILS TETRALOGY

Science Fiction for Science Lovers

 

 

 

When Meeting in Heaven

 

Did your eyes record

my face?

Will your ears remember my voice?

When I step in front of you,

perhaps a translucent being,

will your soul leap?

Will you embrace me?

Or turn away?

Will my joy be one-sided?

 When I describe the past,

 will you nod in agreement?

Will you share my enthusiasm?

Or smile like a brand new friend?

 

 

Eve Gaal

Copyright 2017

 

Eve's Poem

Poem by Robin

A Beautiful Mess

She is a beautiful mess

a work in disguise

had looked for value in everyone else's eyes,

Flawed and strained, heart pure and true,

putting back the broken pieces, becoming brand new.

The mess she sees when she looks into her own eyes,

are reflections from the mirror, that proclaim many lies,

She adjusts her crown and finds what has been hidden all along,

her mess gave her character and made her powerfully strong,

All the moments she had cried and asked God why,

revealed the bigger picture, she can now help the passerby.

If I have not lived your sorrow and felt your pain,

my love would be shallow,

and only to entertain.

She looks and sees the beautiful mess in their eyes,

speaks with a new purpose,

and removes all the lies.

Your value does not come from how others see you.

It shines forth with beauty in everything that you do.

Flaws and stains just show she is real, perfectly imperfect,

so others can see God in you.

ROBIN WHITE

 

Hi Pattimari!

Happy New Year.

Seems so much of what I write is about Heaven, so I wrote this poem specifically for your magazine. Hope you like it.

Best,

Eve Gaal

Hiking Mountain Ranges, René Dhenin’s Yarn

By D.M. McGowan

 

He told me of a walk he made back in forty-one

With a daypack, rifle, knife, and handgun

 

He received a wire at Fort St. John, it said “Services required”

It specified the date then added, “All equipment, horses supplied.”

 

“From US Army Engineers,” he said, “I’d worked for them a lot,

With my horses and guiding them over hill and ‘round the bogs.

 

So I put my horses out to graze, stored all tack and gear,

And hitched a ride, me and a pal, early spring that year.

 

Rode the caboose from Dawson Creek, then Pullman car to Cowtown.

Partied there with folks we knew then railroad again coastal bound.

 

It took four boats along the coast, each one getting smaller

Then we walked a couple of miles, the Telegraph Trail to follow.

 

At Telegraph Creek there’s another message, addressed directly to me

And after days and weeks of travel, one I sure didn’t want to see.

 

Once again from the US Army, my services no longer required.

I’m off in the Coastal Mountains and before I’m hired I’m fired.

 

My pal says he’s off to the sea, without my work, no work to be found.

He’ll get a ride on some coastal scow and he’s for Vancouver town.

 

But I make my living with horses and tack, and it’s to the east not west

So we say our goodbyes, off he goes, and I head for a high mountain pass.

 

I’d walked a week or so, low on grub and getting gaunt,

When some mountain caribou appears; more meat than I really want.

 

I took a fat cow and did her up, skinning, stripping and eating my fill

Packed some fresh wrapped in hiding, but smoked jerky for most of the kill

 

Crossed many a creek and skirted muskeg, rivers as well, one or two

But coming down in the Omineca, there was the Finley a river I knew.

 

So I made a raft tied with bark, planning to float down to the Peace

But whitewater broke up the raft, lost it and most of my meat.

 

Back when I shot the caribou I’d made the hock skin into slippers.

On stretchers, they floated and I found ‘em but lost my boots in the river.

 

Had my rifle slung over my shoulder, pistol, and knife on my belt

So except for my boots and the meat, came out of it all pretty well.

 

Another day to dry myself and another week of walking

I’m not far from Hudson’s Hope and the supply boat’s docking.

 

So I caught a ride down river to home where all my equipment sat

So you see I missed the start of building the Alcan, maybe best at that.

 

 

The Road That Couldn’t Be Done

D.M. & K.L. McGowan

 

They came to build a road

That some said couldn’t be done

But they did it damn it and did it fast

And even had some fun

 

The US Army Engineers

Several regiments strong

Cut and slashed through timber

And laid it across the bogs

 

With local trappers, packers, and guides

And with sightings to the sky

They found a way through passes

And over mountains where eagles fly

 

Civilians from all walks of life

From all across the land

From Labrador, Ontario

And down to the Rio Grande

 

They dropped them off at end of rail,

A place called Dawson Creek

A bunch of young eastern boys

Too excited to sleep

 

The final push to build it came

December seventh, Forty One

And before Christmas the following year

There laid the road that couldn’t be done.

 

Oh, and sure it was only a trail

With decades of work to be done

But now millions of travelers

Use the road that couldn’t be done.

 

www.dmmcgowan.blogspot.ca

www.amazon.com-dmmcgowan

 

G'day PnP;

The construction of the Alaska Highway was celebrated in 2017 to mark the 75th anniversary of its construction ... or more precisely the trail that became the Alaska Highway ... back in 1943. I wrote a rhyme entitled "The Road That Couldn'e Be Done" that was included on the CD, a collection of poems and songs which can be found at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nTt25BOVaqs 

I also wrote another which relates a story told to me by a rancher I worked for back in the '60s. He was called to guide US Army Engineers at Telegraph Creek on one of the routes proposed for the highway but while he was getting there it was decided to use the route from Dawson Creek, BC to Anchorage AK in use today.

I will paste both here and also attache them. 

Dave McGowan

PS There is also a link to more Alaska Highway information (and pictures) on my blog at http://dmmcgowan.blogspot.ca/2017/04/75-th-anniversary-of-alaska-highway.html

 


What is being perfect?
What is this being perfect?
Why are we striving for perfection?
And who is really perfect?
All of us with some imperfections.
What is this judging or criticizing?
Why are we competing and making anxiety?
When everyone is unique and 
All of us with some imperfections.
What is this complaining and having jealousy,
And making fun of others creating discomfort
And uneasiness in relationships
When everyone is unique and 
All of us with some imperfections
What is this making fun of others 
And analyzing them,
When everyone is unique and 
All of us with some imperfections.


Copyright@Vinita Singh Sept. 19, 2015