Looking out into the lake, he is
all shoulder blades and despair,
he wants to do it, he needs to do it
but he just can't make it out there

the water is cold, the rocks are sharp,
the lake weeds pull and wander;
it's not a long swim, not for him, yet
he can only let opportunity squander

Then, she appears, quickly closing in,
a hero swooping up sad, lanky limbs,
draping him over strong shoulders,
to brave the elements til off he swims

She watches him race away, as he will
over and again for years to come,
until he is grown and her strength
remains in him - the grace he came from

Rumpled, colourful layers
Tower haphazardly
Abandoned chaos
Waiting for moments to spare
When harmony can be pursued in
Precisely folded pieces
Properly placed
Rejoice for order reclaimed
Until disorder inexorably returns

The things we don't talk about catch
In my hair, invisible webs strung
between here and there, and people
and places we've known and been;

The things we don't talk about, words
we'd choke to speak, the stories we
Keep inside, afraid of what else
might leak if we let go, when we let go

The things we don’t talk about, float
In the air; dust motes of thoughts
And we try not to stare or meet their
Eyes; yes, we try - sometimes we fail

The things we don't talk about live
in the spaces between; in between
intention and outcome, in that viscous
place between hope and dreams;

The simple truth, I’m afraid,
With all the things we can’t say,
We talk so much anyway, but we
Don’t talk about much these days


NCL September 2019

It’s ok to be mad
You’re right to be worried
Don’t tamp down that fury
Don’t talk yourself down
You don’t have to turn around
or be quiet
You can stand your ground
You don’t have to
stay behind
There's no need to
watch it burn

There is hope
in mad -
Awareness of
a better way -
Demand it



NCL October 2019

The autumn canvass
Blurs beneath busy feet
A chorus of umbrellas waltz
Along the bustling street

Cars splash through puddles
Spray crescendos joyously
It was then that their eyes met
Across a city sidewalk symphony



NCL September 2019

We have a flower!
A cute, scraggly, little flower
Delicate, white petals unfurling
Over a yellow-dusted center
Future strawberry
Hope
Our little garden
Might yield some
This
Year

When we arrived, young, blinded by stars in our eyes and endless city lights multiplied in the skies and in our hearts, we had hope.

Time passed without permission, marked by changing city landscapes as seasons raced by, and our love flourished, claiming the heartbeat of the city for its own; believing the promises of the ocean and the mountains and nature invading urban spaces. Our family grew, by one, and then two; seasons of eternal showers imprinting their cadence on our souls, we felt hope.

Now, the city that we love cannot love us back - it was laundered and sold by leaders less truthful than bold - we can't afford to grow old together here. We are drowning, struggling to stay afloat in a city owned by distant millionaires. Some days, it can be hard to find hope.

Before it's too late, I think we should go; leave behind these beautiful mountains, take the city skylines etched on our bones, and find a new place to watch our love grow. We still have dreams - our hope can't be sold - we’ll take them on the road with the memories we hold, when we go. We have hope.

NCL 2019

When you’re running downhill
with a course to beat
or a place to be,
when you don’t have time
to fight gravity,
you let go, giving in
to joyous velocity...

Lean into the incline,
falling forward into time;
catch yourself strategically,
again and again,
on soft ankles and soft knees...

Watch your steps,
watch your speed;
take what you can handle,
not necessarily what you need...

If you can, if it feels right,
lean forward even more,
feel the adrenaline roar...

You are a force to be seen,
feel the world rushing by
your calculated careen...

Celebrate when
you’ve conquered the incline,
taking acquired momentum
and stolen time;
thank the universe
for the thrill of speed sublime
and then,
on to the next challenge...

Sleeping in the same bed,
Yet a million miles apart;
Meet me in the middle
If I still have your heart

We can whisper softly,
In echo of our early days;
Hold me close, my love,
We’ll set this bed ablaze

Forget about the chores
Forget about our spawn ;)
Not forever, just for now,
The world will spin on

Hold me close, my love
My skin still craves your touch;
We’ll explore anew together
Until we’ve had too much

Sleeping in the same bed
In a home we built of dreams
My heart is yours as ever
And it’s bursting at the seams

NCL July 2019

Gave myself a pep talk,
Half-hearted, it fell on
Firmly skeptical ears

Both I and myself, we knew
Myself had no intention
Of following through

Yet somehow here I am;
Not with boasts or swagger,
Not with any shade of confidence

Resigned and willing,
Doggedly, pleasantly persisting,
I am here against my own bad sense

You are fifteen, feeling unloved and unseen; aching for wild romance as curated on screen. It's not your fault, you’ve been told it's your right - you deserve love at first sight, swept away by a jedi knight, with your ample hair shining rainbow bright - of course reason takes flight when confronted with the fantasy of love.

Although you should know, over your lifetime, again and again, love will come or love will grow. It may take time before it shows, it’s never owed and hard to sow but you will find love or love will find you.

At times you will curse love - when it comes for you it won’t be denied; you can try to save your pride, set love aside, maybe chase it away with truth or with lies, but you can never hide. Love won’t let you be rid of it at your own will; you can say that you're out but still it will pull you in until love is fulfilled or love is killed....

But you are fifteen, feeling unloved and unseen, and I want you to know, as I wish I had known, love is a wildcard. When you want love too bad, you’ll try way too hard, you’ll lose your perspective, settling for pyrite stars who find you easy to discard; no matter how much you stay on guard, you’ll end up disappointed and scarred...

And that is ok, you will learn and you will burn; you will get stronger and smarter, you’ll know when to give up and when to try harder. You’ll discover your awesome self - and that is a true gift - when you know what makes you happy, what gives you a lift, what helps you grow, what makes you crazy; someday you’ll know you are loved

Some poems seize love effortlessly… the little ones, inconsequential, cheery and bright, the ones that take flight without much incentive; at times more homage than inventive; the ones sweet and light, easy to chew, they make you feel good before passing right through; they won’t get under your skin, they won’t make you itch; they won’t make any waves but they hope to bewitch…

Some poems are harder to love... the difficult ones, different and new; the ones that were hard to consume, bitter, broken or tough to get through; the ugly ones that might be true; the ones that demanded blood, that broke hearts and poured salt in open wounds; they won’t lift you up, they won’t dry your tears; far too sincere, they feed on your fears… they’re hard to love, like, let out or let go, but sometimes those are the poems we need to know

NCL June 2019