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Nichole Dec 2017
If you like this poem let me know,
I live in Canada,
Oh all the snow.

I am a Caucasian female,
I guess i'm pretty bright,
Can't stop watching the news about the fight!

Worried and happy,
ALIVE! so alive,

I'm 28 and so far; I have been able to get by,

If your like me and love to write,
Something you could do almost every night,

Add me as a friend,
And comments we can send,
Stories and poems to pretend,
Again and again.

Maybe the truth,
The plot that gets foiled, yes, are youth,
Disappearing like the petals of a rose,
But our words stay in the souls,
Who read,

Reading.... read... done.
If you like it let me know.
leolewin Jul 2017
Crystal blue eyes,
They remind me of the ocean.

As beautiful and limitless, as breathtaking and devastating.

To set sail is a death wish,
and to never try is a regret.
Ryan Hoysan Jul 2017
It was only just about four months ago
That a girl from Canada I'd never met
Would steal my heart, a love so whole
My emotions skyrocketing, love so sure
Was followed soon thereafter
With silence and the void
Hearing nothing, not even a whisper
She has seemingly disappeared
Back to the nothingness she came from.
It was about four months ago that I met the person writing as the profile blackrainboots here on HP. We became very close very quickly. She was from a small town in Canada. Any activity and communications from her ceased about maybe a month into the two of us talking and it seemed to be extraordinarily unpronounced. It just seemed weird. If anyone knows her personally or knows what's happened, if anything has indeed happened, please let me know.
Francie Lynch Jul 2017
Love the name.
Got upset
When the man called out, Seen.
Stupid man.
It's Sean, and not Shawn.
A year older than Gerald.
Two younger than Kevin.
Two older than me.
That's Sean.
Daddy wrote home about us.
Maura was working at the hospital.
Sheila was finishing highschool.
Kevin won the Science Fair.
Sean plays ice hockey with the All Stars,
All over Canada and the U.S.
I found the letter, penned in '62,
A jagged European cursive. They tend to write the same.
I've seen the words, run together to hide the spelling;
With JMJ's and TG's sprinkled like manna throughout.
The last page was missing,
Just when Daddy'd write about Gerald, me, and Marlene.
Gerald with his Beetles haircut.
Me, mimicking ( probably mocking),
Some unknown priest, to my father's delight;
Marlene, the wee pigeon, he missed most when he worked
Away from home.
Jimmy, The Bruiser, wasn't here yet.
The last of an Irish brood settled in Canada.

I discovered it in the spare room at Granny's and Frank's.
There was no mention of Michael, Eucheria or Particia.
He exaggerated about the harsh, six-month winters here,
And our proximity to the North Pole.
Suggested Frank try putting copper wires around Granda's wrists;
The Egyptian mummies didn't exhibit signs of bone deterioration.
Daddy was hard-pressed to be proven wrong when he concocted.
Sean had a drawer full of ribbons, medals, trophies and plagues,
And a large S, his Senior Letter.
He also had sideburns, a much smaller nose, and,  smelled
as good as he looked,
The Elvis dip-curl, the Connery swag, the Selleck stash to Clooney cool.
Sean kept a disposition of hidden pains secreted for others.
A heart of tears.
A spirit of adventure.
I love Sean, I recall.
He is always welcome here.
Drops by sometimes.
It's always a great surprise.
Serious, hard edit and re-post.
JMJ: Jesus, Mary and Joseph
TG: Thank God
All eleven children are mentioned, but I wanted to focus on Sean.
leolewin Jul 2017
Each day I see a different part of the picture,
Giving me fleeting notions of comfort.

Each day I feel a little different,
Making for an interesting ride.


Emotions changing with the seasons,
Happiness comes and goes with the tide.

Each day I learn something new,
Discovering what
resides inside.
leolewin Jul 2017
Waiting for my luck to change
Waiting for a sunny day

Waiting for the time and place

in which the waiting wastes away.

Waiting for it all to click
Waiting for it all to stick

Waiting for a happy ending
Waiting while my time is spending.
He travelled to Canada's west coast
To sit in fields of Mushrooms Magic.
Psychoactive effects created rooms
Filled with white cognitive static.

He returned to his hometown small
In Boreal forests of Ontario's Northland.
Beyond locked doors now unhinged
He sank deeper in grey matter quicksand.

No one quite knew Joshua anymore.
Disturbance eclipsed his passive way.
At the local pub he told Ed and me
He was being followed by the C.I.A.

In one weeks time he picked up a knife
And stabbed his father and mother.
His father lay dead on the kitchen floor
She played dead and tried not to shudder.

Joshua was found just sitting in their car
When police came to the scene of the crime.
In a hospital for over thirty years now
His room has been a static void sealed mind.
©2017 Daniel Irwin Tucker

Someone I knew a long time ago.
Lawrence Hall Jul 2017
(Happy 150th, Canada!)


Canada Day -  Just One?

With love from an ‘umble Yank

But every day is Canada Day!

The afternoon plane lands in Halifax
When the hatch is popped, cool air rushes in
Even the fog is happy in Canada

The Muskogee never made landfall here
And so we pilgrimage for her, complete
Her voyage from ’42 to Canada

Wolfville, Grand Pre’, Le Grande Derangement
The Deportation Cross and beer cans
Well, God forgive the Redcoats anyway

Newfoundland
Is a bold
Anapest

The church spires in a line, the light is green
The bold young captain shoots the narrows wild
Can you find your way to your painted house?

To walk again the cobbles of Ferryland
And smell the very blue of the Atlantic
The sea-blown wind is cold in Canada

Blue Puttees and a mourning Caribou
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord
Good children sing “We love thee, Newfoundland”

Quebec – royal city of New France
May Le Bon Dieu bless the Plains of Abraham,
And may God bless
The signs an English driver cannot read

The Coca-Cola streets of Niagara Falls
Yanks laugh at made-in-China Mountie mugs
And buy them, happy to be in Canada

A cup of Toujours Frais from – well, that place
But to us in your southern provinces
Below Niagara, Tim too is Canada

Though Canada goes on, these scribbles must not -
Your grateful guest wishes only to say
That every happy day is Canada Day!
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