For some, it’s about suntanning. For me, the seaside compels me to listen and feel my existence. The birds, the breeze, the nature I sense all around have their pitch‑perfect tempos. The universe is alive with meaning, and if you tune yourself to it, you can feel its music in your own heartbeat. But music does not feel, we do. Life feels, and so life becomes the source of meaning in the seemingly indifferent universe. Whatever lies beyond is keeping its curtains closed and its keys hidden. This, along with the
Poets and Storytellers United prompts, "teeth, hammer and blooms" inspires my poem as I swing from being the snowman whose season is over still lingering, to an eagle flying.
Explore more at
Poets and Storytellers United,
SKYWATCH and
Saturday's Critters.
"From the wide window towards the granite shore/The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying/
Unbroken wings ..." - from Ash Wednesday by T.S. Eliot
The Ocean Park Hall that opened in 1926 was the perfect place to celebrate its 100-year-history this June. Outside were games, food and face painting. Inside, grainy photos were on display of days gone by, including of the original post office. Deemed the world's smallest at the time, the six foot by six foot building made it into
Ripley's Believe It Or Not!. Nowadays, most messages are sent electronically on keyboards and hand written letters in the mail seem a luxury. My poem (at bottom) is an ode to the hand written letter, inspired in part by the
Poets and Storytellers United prompt, the quote by T.S. Eliot, reminding that words have wings though they travel by different means and that even Eliot preferred a typewriter in the early 1900's to ink and pen.
For clarity, above and below are digital reproductions of faded black/white photos. Mail arrived to the Ocean Park community via the railway by the shore and carried uphill.
My poem in flowery font is from the heart, although not written by hand on paper.
Explore more at
Poets and Storytellers United,
SKYWATCH and
Saturday's Critters.
The
Poets and Storytellers United prompt to think of "a time you surprised yourself" had me writing a poem (below) about unexpected resilience. We're tougher than we know and, even if broken, possibilities exist. I also thought of a woman I call Flower who two years ago passed away. I still walk by her front yard garden on my way to the local park and envision her bent over, weeding, watering and nurturing the foliage and flowers. She prettied the area with her steady hand and eye for beauty, bringing joy that outlasted her. Here are a few of her blooms and some from other gardens, as well as beach scenes, where we humans, the most multifaceted of beings, love to roam.
Explore more at
Poets and Storytellers United,
SKYWATCH and
Saturday's Critters.
We know a lot but also remarkably little about existence: the how, what and why of it. That doesn't stop us from filling in the unknowns with stories that feel very real about Creation. Best guesses rush into every unanswered question and every detail invites its own analysis and definitions. Even with such inventive minds, it is hard to imagine how something can come out of nothing as it seemingly does so effortlessly each Spring. My poem ponders the mystery of how creativity blooms in the outer-inner worlds.
Explore more at
Poets and Storytellers United,
SKYWATCH and
Saturday's Critters.
April is National Poetry Month in Canada. Learn why poetry matters HERE.
The
Poets and Storytellers United prompt "find inspiration on your bookshelf" inspired my poem and reminded me of when libraries visited my neighbourhood. As a child, I looked forward to when a large van pulled up to our street, the side door slid open and I entered a cozy room stuffed with adventures that swept me to distant shores of the imagination. These books felt like friends. Some I kept close for reading at bedtime as I drifted to sleep, rapt by fantasies. Now my travels are mostly outside the pages as I walk about my tiny place on a planet that is a footnote in a cosmic story yet to be told.
The Cloud is deceptively, brilliantly, named but humanity again finds that what starts as a manageable useful tool can become overbearing and destructive. The Lewis quote from Poets and Storytellers United reminds me that the dreams of some fulfilled can be our nightmares and in waking hours take us down rabbit holes. It sounds dramatic and far less romantic to admit that our data is not resting on a nebulous Cloud. Rather, data is stored ofttimes in huge buildings that drain masses of water and electrical resources, non-stop humming loudly to the despair of neighbours. Wish I had a solution for this monster we feed as reliance on the digital grows to "lock box" our keepsakes, personal and business dealings and even our identities. Below is my poem and recent pictures I took on walks, to be stored, of course, on the Cloud. Currently, Canada has some 300 data centres and Google says 4,000 to 5,400 operational data centers are in the U.S., representing nearly half of all facilities worldwide.
Explore more at Poets and Storytellers United, SKYWATCH and Saturday's Critters. 
