Plain Jane Poetry

Food For Words

'Tis often said

that angst and anger,

heartbreak and sorrow

are good fodder

for the poet's pen.

 

But what of sunshine, 

birdsong

and a lover's kiss

on Christmas morning?

 

 

Dec 2014

Poetry Not Prose

if when i go to write

it flows

more like poetry

than prose

do i embrace the wind and where

it blows?

 

if tales come easier

in rhyme

and feel more heaven sent

than mine

will you think that it's just silly

or sublime?

 

if my words come out

in measure

is it a gift for me to

treasure?

will it give the reader

pleasure?

 

or...

 

will the audience

just leave

feeling a little peeved 

and think

the story is not mine but 

one I weaved?

 

well the thing is that

it's true

yes writing verse is what 

i do

so when the cadence comes i'll

not be blue

 

for another thing 

is this

if the odes dried up

i'd miss

the passion and the pulse of them

...

    ..

       .

         .

word-bliss

Aug 2014

Ode To An Industry

She said,  "it's dying slowly"

I say, " it's surely dead",

I'm standing at the gravesite

looking hopefully ahead.

 

The funeral rites are over

the mourners now disperse,

I stay because I'm waiting

for the next enlightened verse.

 

I notice that the elders

have taken prior leave,

I understand their longing

for a newer scene to believe.

 

For me there's bitter sweetness

a forsaking of my past, but

I ponder the big question 

was it really meant to last? 

 

Perhaps the word 'evolve'

is a better term to use,

for then, a lifetime's work

is not so hard to lose.

Jan 2014

Moon Dance Medicine

grief curls round me

again

blankets me

lighter than before

but still

heavy on my heart

or should i blame

resistance to the mystery

for cloaking me from life

 

winter sun shines

again

warming me

as bright as before

but still

darkness creeps in

around the edge

clouding my periphery

obscuring dreams not realized

 

full wolf moon comes

again

shines on me

a beacon as before

but still

i howl and weep

and bow and pray

requesting that the rhythm

transmute this ancient tune

 

i bless the dance

again

it mends me

and illuminates

and still

another layer sheds

to reveal

that mourning this transition

sets free the crone to shine

Jan 2013

Caravan of Masquerades

when they played

the long hymn of the festival

it was time for me to go
 

and so i stole away

by light of the full cold moon

with heavy heart yet nimble feet
 

i crept past lighted tents

their lamps flickering

pressing darkness outwards

through canvas walls

but secrets remained

curled round the throats

of those inside

threatening to extinguish

the life

of mortals unwilling or unable

to be true

to the voices

screaming from their souls

Nov 2012

The Candle Man

the candle man

the one with the oars

he touched my heart

like no one before

 

 

cheese and chocolate

roses and wine

treats in his pockets

our picnics were fine!

 

 

my Colombo act

his love of song

we couldn't imagine

anything wrong

 

 

often in shorts

cap for his crown

always upbeat

never seemed down

 

 

his big ol' truck 

that rumbled and roared

was sweet to my ears

after our chores

 

 

fun in the gardens

tractor and all

dresses with names

i had to recall

 

 

out on the lake

i sat like a queen

we found faces

in everything green

 

 

a libra and sag

from different pasts

finding each other

and falling fast

 

 

a couple of days

was often too much

for us to wait

to see and touch

 

 

we both exclaimed

how lucky we felt

how blessed we were

this hand we were dealt

 

 

one bright afternoon

the trail we walked

for miles that day

we talked and talked

 

 

he asked the question

we made some plans

it was so exciting

we were mutual fans

 

 

scrabble and lager

fun-filled late nights

even while settling

dictionary rights

 

 

snacking and swilling

playing good tunes

from the very first note

i loved as he crooned

 

 

rigging and moving

long tarp in the gale

cracked rib and more

still we did prevail

 

 

but time was my rival

and not his best friend

tho' i believed at first

we could make it bend

 

 

then after a while

i just had to ask

was it really just time

i had to take to task

 

 

today at dawn

sad heart as i write

no easy answers

or clear inner sight

 

 

one thing i'll miss

ok, yes it's true

there isn't just one

there are quite a few

 

 

but holding hands

was especially sweet

in the land of nod

under sherpa's heat

 

 

it's patience i seek

a virtue to hone

and trust is another

so i put down the phone

 

 

questions remain

the ending must wait

until i'm more sure

of this story's fate

Nov 20/12

For A Laugh

an exchange with a funny man

 

HIM: Who does that date breaker think he is?  

Go figure. There is no raisin-able explanation for this & this bad apple had better orange his day so he shows up on time. 

 

ME: A laugh before brekky makes me as happy as I've ever bean. Olive my life I've hungered to make a mango head over peels for me. If you carrot all and don't want to squash your plan(tain) then I trust you will turnip on thyme. My heart beets for you...(and for winning our 4th scrabble game). Lettuce have fun endive in. 

 

HIM: Puha!, I romaine unconvinced I'm in your league as you're quite savoy & cool as a cucumber.  

Although, I yam greens with envy & think you're gherkin my chain, I'm going to jicama down & go for a pea, you know, a leek. Heavens to succotash, 

it's thyme.(I know it's one of yours, peas don't be mad & I'll cress you later). I fear you'll cabbage on to me, grab me by the collard & artichoke this wee sprout, then I'd tell my mama, this broad's bean mean & wants to squash me. Mama will say if that Lady's finger as much as touches you, swede better watch out. Ackee kail sign off now, my sweet potato. Our future, asparagus, who can say. (asparagus, as-per-us, o.k. it's a bit of a stretch, not considered legit by one from Ontaro, ha,ha,ha.)  This one really tickled my fennel bone.

 

ME: Omg, that is completely hilarious. So so funny. 

This is your way of surrendering? I laughed till I split a side rib, but I don't want to grab you by the collard or the corn. I'd rather go bananas and kiss your tulips, and if we cantaloupe then I will be happy as a clam to milk this because you are a real peach. 

I want you to know that if you are lost in a maize I will sea-kelp or if you are chili we can snuggle like two peas in a pod.

Halloween 2012

Questioning The Muse

I cried,

“The Muse has died!”

But is that true?

Written in the cards

if I could open wide

not run and hide?

 

 

I thought

I need a lot

but is that real?

Just one for everything

when what I got

was what I sought?

 

 

I yearn

to melt and burn

in arms so strong

that hold me dear

Enduring if I learn

or was I spurned?

 

 

I long

for that soft song

and scent that sparks

the fuel that creates

Is that so wrong

to want prolonged?

 

 

I said,

“The Muse has fled”

but I know this

It wasn’t just

inside my head

it was my heart that led

 

 

I fight

for more insight

from higher planes

and by the gate of grace

I wait for that sweet flight

to what feels right

 

 

I feel

murmurs of what’s real

Passion bubbles forth

when ego bids retreat

I bow and kneel

before gods of the Surreal

 

 

I see

glimmers of true me

and seek for peace

Knowing when I love what is

my heart is truly free

igniting creativity

Sep 2011

Killing Time

"Killing Time",

they say.

But I don't understand.

Kill Time?

Are you listening?

Do you hear the clock ticking?

Save Time, Spend Time, Enjoy Time.

Don't kill this precious gift.

 

"It's just an Illusion",

they say.

Really?

Tell that to him or her

whose Time has run out...

 

Illusion or reality?

Time is our master

or our servant

on this rolling home of ours.

Do not kill it

it will die soon enough.

 

Remember the power of your words.

Cherish, respect the passage of the hours.

Live Time

 

Sep 2009

On Your Golden Anniversary

 

For Mom and Dad's 50th Anniversary

December 12, 2003

Fifty years of being together!

Providing a home in all kinds of weather.

Lots of laughter and some tears too,

you've always been there to see us through.

 

Maybe not always what you thought it would be,

but I think that all three of us would agree

that wherever we go or how far we roam,

you two on The Farm will always be 'Home'.

 

Thank you for sharing your lives and your space,

for your wisdom and patience when things weren't in place!

For your guidance and strength, and your endurance too,

thanks for the memories we've made with you.

 

Thank you for offering a place to learn,

a place to grow, discover and discern;

a solid foundation to treasure and hold,

an accomplishment to be proud of, on this your Gold.

 

 

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© 2019 Jane Dickson

Grimsby, Ontario, Canada