poetpotter

 I've been thinking this week of a friend at my former church who died early in 2022. I pondered our connection through our church and beyond. She was a preschool teacher, tutor, committed parent, and dedicated member of the church. She tutored one of my own grandchildren for a time as well. The poem began sometime after Cheryl's death, when I was out walking one evening, watching the sun lower in the sky until it was nearly set. And it reminded me of Cheryl and her life and how she gave of it until so close to the end.   I will let the poem speak the rest of my thoughts. "An Evening Poem" was published by Tower Poetry that same year.     An Evening Poem Each step I take The sun dips lower in the sky     I will return before the light dives into the western horizon   Purple and pink clouds surround it giving the sky a painter’s look   I stand and think about the love you gave   the glowing orb dips a little l...

    Halloween night, when I was growing up in rural Ontario was quite different than kids roaming the streets in the city looking  for treats. For us, we had to wait until Dad was done his chores in the barn, milking cows and feeding the cattle, chickens, pigs and gathering eggs. Here's a look into our Halloween. Costumes and Treats Come Halloween night there were no store-bought costumes we rummaged our parents' closet for the real             the ridiculous           the unusual and came up with the usual Mom's dress   a string of costume jewelry Dad's coveralls, clean from the wash a handkerchief stuffed in the front pocket;   fresh child faces without a mask we could be someone else  without hiding the real us a small bad for treats and we waited 'til evening chores were done There were never tricks Mrs. B. always asked us to sing for our treats I do...

 This poem came about in October 2018 (published the following year) when I drove up the street in Stratford on my way to visit Mom in the hospital. The leaves had been falling and many were still cloaked in reds and oranges. It was the orange ones that stood out that day, against the blue sky, on the ground. I can't wear orange myself, but for those who can, it conjures up the word bold . And this poem. And I think I had someone in mind when I wrote about courage. Bold Orange Bold orange colours the sky the hue of her brightness daring and courage It isn't everyday you see that kind of daring squaring with the universe and speaking of courage doing her best with what she has more than most who have more she colours the sky with her gratitude Summer 2019 Volume 68 No. 1 Tower Poetry

  Go ahead and do it. Imagine sitting in a room with many tables, all set with fresh white tablecloths, plates, glasses of water sent in place, and cutlery lined up neatly. And you sit patiently until the wait staff comes for your order. This is where my imagination took me:   In a restaurant   Ice clinks in full glasses of water waiters set tables the cutlery loud against china plates   I hear a sound     an orchestra starting up tuning at the conductor’s baton I pick up the napkin and pen from my pocket and begin to write   Not like Bach or Beethoven writing with quill and ink on their elegant white sleeves but on a napkin    its finish bruised by a quick wipe wrinkled     though barely     by the narrow escape of a plate set next to a goblet of water on a table covered in white   The only sound in my head is the symphony of words    coming toge...