April is Poetry Month

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April is two and half months away. It’s the month that is dedicated to poetry. As I sit at Urban Ground concentrating on writing something for Valentine’s Day, all I can think about is April. Spring…poetry…warmth…my friend, the late Anthea Loran! I have many fond memories of Anthea. She was one of my most supportive friends when it came to writing, performing puppet shows or plays, art or entertainment of any type. She was a pillar of the Swift Current Community in many ways, and she drilled into me that April is Poetry Month.   Anthea love nature. She had a huge garden and tended to the walking path gardens in Swift Current, SK.

From the time I can remember, I’ve always had a love affair with the sky. I think it started around the time that I had re-occurring flying dreams. I was fascinated with the sky and with space. For some reason the pink in a sunset or sunrise has always made me feel homesick for something I couldn’t quite understand. The sunrises and sunsets had inspired some earlier poetry that I began writing in grade 12.

Recently, I’ve been plugging away at some new poems that aren’t spiritual like my earlier ones. I hope to finish a collection entire: An Affair with The Sky

A Star

 

A star;

Golden and bright

A backdrop of rose coloured light

Aqua sky

Sinking in the west

A skirt of darkness

And a peach vest

Wrapped about the heavens blessed.

Apricot Syrup

 

Apricot syrup drizzled on the horizon

Like Grandma’s jam on bannock—

Sweet and hot with raisins.

Golden honey spreading up, cutting dark gray clouds;

Reminds me of my Great Aunt from across the boarder;

Smuggling cases of Roger’s syrup in her motor home back across the line.

Corn bread yellow webs through a chokecherry aura;

Tantalizing my olfactory nerve to recall —

An experiment of bacon grease, and corn meal baked in a cast iron skillet in the over.

Eye of moon like curious children with faces close to the steaming glass.

Smothered in butter and eaten with each family meal.

A building looms in my camera’s line— a reminder of how cold this world can be;

Yet the warmth of a few friends is like a zillion drops of sunlight casting away dark clouds.

 

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