White is white
Black is black
Grey is grey
White is not White
It it winter
It is ivory
It is bone
It is bright
Black is not black
It is raven
It is dusk
It is ebony
It is midnight
Grey comes through in many shades
It is blurred
It is clear
It is smudged
It is dear
Grey is like a newspaper
It is black and white
And read all over.
A tulip popped out of the ground.
It made sure no one was around.
It took off its shirt.
Which fell in the dirt.
It turned red without making a sound.
I had a wooden shoe.
It was quite new.
I put it on my feet.
They felt really neat.
How they both fit in, I haven't a clue.
Red is a colour I like.
It is the colour of my new bike.
I rode it to the bar.
Thought it would be safer than driving my car.
Now, onward home, I hike.
There was a hat on my head
Last night, when I went to bed.
My husband laughed.
He thought me daft.
Now, there is a pot on his head.
I made a person cry today.
She was a lady of an age that I once used to be.
Her circumstances, though, just a little bit different.
She was standing on the corner of a street.
The light turned red.
So my car came to a stop.
Her face was really sad.
Her clothes, dirty and worn.
Her expression told me that she was not expecting anything from the gray-haired lady who had pulled up alongside her.
I opened my purse.
I pulled out a bill.
She accepted the money and said,’Thanks, and God Bless.’
I told her to take care of herself, as she began to cry.
The light turned green.
A tear rolled down my face.
And my car rolled away.
Be kind to someone today.
We are all butterflies.
Matthew 7:3, says,
‘Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?’
So I poked around in my right eye, and I found a stick. I pulled at it. It became a branch and then a full-fledged tree.
I thought.
Oh my!
Oh, me?
Then, in my left eye, I noticed a speck. A floater, I thought. If it was any bigger, it may have been a torn retina.
Not good.
But the floater turned out to be a tiny bit of an old stump. An old stump with an odd shaped fungi attached to it.
I gathered all of these pieces of wood and threw them into a rather large pile.
I dropped a match, and beautiful bonfire began to blaze.
Smoke got in my eyes.
And now I can see.
I just finished assembling this beautiful, piece, wooden puzzle.
It only took me six weeks. Approximately 4 weeks longer than completing a regular 1000 piece puzzle.
I love the results. Missing border, and all.
This work, by a Canadian artist was gifted to me this past Christmas by my son. A wonderful young man who loves to challenge his mother.
I’m looking forward to finding that perfect spot on the wall onto which to hang this piece of art.
As all new immigrants that arrive to the beautiful country called Canada do, the Dutch community worked together so that all would succeed and prosper.
The story behind this old dresser is just one of many that demonstrate the strength and power of community.
My father purchased this dresser from a fellow farmer, thereby allowing him to meet his mortgage commitment and grow the family farm.
My parents were able to transport some pieces of furniture with them when they emigrated to Canada. I don’t know if the previous owner brought this dresser with them from Holland or if it was something they acquired after settling here.
This dresser ended up in my childhood bedroom, and then into my present home. It has been in great need of a face lift for some time.
My first thought was to restore it, pulling out the true beauty of the wood. It quickly became clear to me that I did not possess either the required talent or skills necessary to complete such an undertaking.
So, instead, I chose to give it a thorough cleansing.
Washed away, with the dirt and the grim, went the hardships of those early years. Life as a new immigrant back then was just as difficult as the challenges faced by our new immigrants of today.
I watched the buckets of dirty water swirl down the drain. With the dirty water went the tears, the hardships, and the sorrows of these early years.
And as I softly rubbed oils into the newly cleansed surface, into it went all of the great opportunities this country has offered us over the years, as our families grew and prospered.
As I polished the surface, into the dresser went all of the hopes and dreams of the future.
A total restoration of this beautiful work of art belongs to the next generation.
If a Tree Falls. by Bruce Cockburn, 1988
Rain forest
Mist and mystery
Teeming green
Green brain facing lobotomy
Climate control centre for the world
Ancient cord of coexistence
Hacked by parasitic greedhead scam
From Costa Rica to mangy B.C. hills
Cortege rhythm of falling
timber
What kind of currency grows in these new desserts
These brand new flood plains?
If a tree falls in the forest, does anybody hear?
If a tree falls in the forest, does anybody hear forest falling?
Anybody hear the forest falling
Cut and move on
Cut and move on
Take out trees
Take out wildlife at a rate of species every single day
Take out people who've lived with this for 100,000 years
Inject a billion burgers worth of beef
Grain eaters methane dispensers
Through thinning o-zone
Waves fall on wrinkled earth
Gravity, light, ancient reface of stars
Speak of a drowning
But this, this is something other
Busy monster eats dark holes in the spirit world
Where wild things have to go
To disappear
Forever
If a tree falls in the forest, does anybody hear
If a tree falls in the forest, does anybody hear
Anybody hear the forest falling
If a tree falls in the forest, does anybody hear
If a tree falls in the forest,does anybody hear
Anybody hear the forest falling
If a tree falls in the forest
If a tree falls in the forest
If a tree falls in the forest.
My husband and my son, sharing some quality father/son time in beautiful British Columbia, will be attending a Bruce Cockburn concert tonight.
And a tree fell in my forest…..
I love my forest
I love my trees
I love their buds
I love their leaves.
Shadows on the forest floor.
Frogs on the porch.
Snowflakes fall softly in the meadow.
A spotted salamander,
Slinks slyly,
Under the kitchen door.
Icicles
Popsicles
Sunflowers
and roses
Water painting
The river
is frozen.
Starlight
and candlelight
Ice in the summer.
Wanting,
waiting,
and watching
in wonder.
Popsicles
Pickles
People in poses.
Have You Any News of the Iceburg
by Les Barker
On a cold rainy night on a Liverpool quayside
In the year before the Great War
The crowd was in shock at the loss of Titanic;
So proud had they been the day before.
Relatives gathered for news of their loved ones,
To read through the list of the dead,
When into the throng came a sad-eyed old polar bear
And to the clerk at the counter, he
said
Have you got any news of the iceberg?
My family were on it, you see;
Have you got any news of the iceberg?
They mean the whole world to me.
My wife and my children were coming from Greenland
To be by my side in the zoo;
Belinda's my wife, and the eldest's is called Bernard,
And Billy, well he's only two.
I know on the ship there were hundreds of people
And I know the iceburg's not yours...
The polar bear's eyes held the start of his teardrops
And he covered his face with his paws.
Have you got any news of the iceberg?
My family were on it, you see
Have you got any news of the iceberg?
They mean the whole world to me.
It's been over a year since I last saw my children.
I left home to build my career;
I've worked very hard; I'm a star in the circus;
It's all been for nothing, I fear.
That's my face on the poster; we're in town this week;
My children were meeting me here.
Everyone watched as he struggled to speak,
As his paw brushed away one more tear.
Have you got any news of the iceberg?
My family were on it, you see;
Have you got any news of the iceberg?
They mean the whole world to me.
By now all the people had gathered beside him;
His grief was one they could share.
The people around him, in silence and sadness,
Listened to the sad polar bear.
I wanted my children to see me performing
And Belinda, she would have been proud;
At last lost for words, and his tears flowing freely,
The question was asked of the crowd.
Have you got any news of the iceberg?
My family were on it, you see;
Have you got any news of the iceberg?
They mean the whole world to me.
Groovy Tales of a Well Adult 