Blooming blossoms glide through the wind at the Muttart.
Tasting different cultures food at the taste of Edmonton or at the heritage festival.  
Enjoying Christmas lights at the legislature grounds.

Cheering on our Edmonton teams; and avoiding all the construction.
Jamming along to folk tunes at the folk festival.
Shopping or going on rides at West Edmonton Mall

This is the paradise city, ‘‘so take me down the Cadillac city, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty. ‘’
Proud to have once called Edmonton my home.
Proud to be Canadian.

The French language to you, was little more than an inheritance
It was the promise between mother and daughter that a grandchild ought to know the language they used

In Bonnyville, they occupy the church, the Sobeys, the liquor store with that butchered accent
The hybrid between Quebecois French and rural Albertan English - ugly, and indecisive

You don’t live in Bonnyville, where the French roam free
The French in Edmonton feels lost, almost unknown
Poorly funded buildings house these Franco-albertans - children with the same inheritance as you

Immersion becomes a ***** word,
worthy of contempt and disgust
All the French kids know each other,
forced to grow up together while being deprived of options
They all go to the same university - the small francophone campus which stands unimpressive in the only neighbourhood in Edmonton where stop signs say ‘arrêt’

Oil Country, home for the right and prosperous, they don’t like you
You, you’re Francophone -
Stuck up, ******, pretentious...
Besides, there are no such things as Franco-albertans.

What could you be other than an invented term by some lost souls?
You aren’t French enough -
Alberta is an English speaking province.

The time you went to France,
someone asked if you were French-Canadian
Before you could reply, your friends spun your story - something believable, commendable...
your parents, lived in Montreal, and moved to Alberta with their wholly French children

Your father grew up in Edmonton,
memorizing the parks and malls by name
while your mother lived on a dairy farm, living in french - the ugly acadienesque french.

But, to everyone around you, it’s much more believable that you are a stranger to this province.
Maybe you are.

Turning Forty Two
Feeling Like You Can't Poo

Your Feeling Like You Want To Party
But At 10 p.m.

Your Feeling Kinda Blue
On The Avenue

Yegamiester's Are Sweet
Although It Make's Us Light On Our Feet

With Lime In My Corona
Feeling Mighty Fine

Long Island Ice Tea
Makes Me Feel Free

Denten & Mike With All Their Charm
Could Set Off Any Alarm

Parting With Aunt Kate
We're Beginning To See Our Fate

The Blues On White
Feels Just Right

“Listen here buds”
I’m not going to
**** around
or hold back
or try to even the score
and in return
“Don’t **** with me”
“moooore”*

This is an ode to ol' Stuart
Or Brandon
Or Stubacca
Or Bongshit
Whatever you want to call him
Call him it
Conflict
Resolution
Resided
In Penta rips
I reminisce
Too **** often
That’s what I am here to admit

I guess that is the purpose of this poem
Is to make all the apologies
I left unsaid
And to leave all the unsaid
slights behind

Because in my mind,
I was not a good roommate
And you weren’t either
But our insult based arguments would deflate
Recognizing we were both underachievers
Two ******* calling the kettle black
Denzel Washington Movies
And Back
In Quail
Room 1514
Was a “Kozy Shack”
Was not for the weak
Lungs
The haziest of all hostels
A blaze fest
A Bro-out Brothel
"OB Get the ******* door!"
"And don't forget to lock and towel"
Escape from the real world
Into the mythical Qualcation

The Adherol - know it alls
3 Pills of dex – 45 minutes crushed text
Book and and back when we were hooked
  “This **** is just like doing M”
Thank christ for all your friends in MGMT
As it didn’t stop you from copying them
Mr. Rintoul had bigger fish to fry

And I was frying them
because the kitchen was foreign
So at 4 in
The mornin’
I’d be cookin’ creative
Broke *** creations
Cause stomach pains
Are a serious disease

Please
Don’t take
This poem
The wrong way
Because back in the day
Are the days I miss the most
We played host
To a family of friends
Anyone would want to boast

Thank you for reminding me it was your birthday
Every ******* year
Every elaborate party
You deserved
No Hissy fit was unwarranted
Speaking on behalf of a floor Matt
You know the one you parented
The upmost respect remains
For papa Stewie

And when I got my dewy
I got a few hugs of sympathy
While you laughed in my ******* face
And when you couldn’t find a roommate
I happily took that place
And when I left movie night in the trailer
To go do slam poetry at a talent show
You made me feel so out of place
And when I returned with my 100$ winnings
You were the first person I bought a pilsner case

The fact that you never made the break through
To see the majority of the time
We were laughing at you not with you
Doesn’t seem to be an issue
Because maybe you did know all along
Staying in check
Punishing us
stoner massages
That could break necks

Now these days with a real job that really pays
Stuart Rintoul will still tell you he is LiViN’
Even - If he is stuck in Edmonton
This separation
“Is horseshit”

Let me state it one last time old pal
This poem is not meant to offend
And deep down from Roses to the Corral
I hope you bang all my ex girlfriends

I should have never left you all those times for *******
Or in the words of Tuner “PP!”
I should have stayed and watched Blade 3

To all those
who really knew Stu
It was really me
eating all the peanut butter
by the spoon
But blaming it on you
Was too opportune

Stu,
You are
******* clutch
******* decent
And so ******* “chitty”

You were the best friend
I should have never asked for
And for this
I will never
**** with you
Any
“mooooore”

The Soho lights
Were shining like an electric lobster
I was thinking what an Edmonton boy
Should do-
As punk rockers smoked marihuana
In small corners
Shadows danced a routine that was choreographed
                                                   ­         In hell-
And glue, speed and alcohol blended into humidity
Eerybody knew God had no recognition
                                         For this recondite humanity
I thought about something else............

Life became static blind
Drunken dreads were jostling in plastic conversation
****** out of their minds-
There became a powerful flow of left-wing
Political notion-
The stale scent of a previous saviour
Became more obvious and universal
Reggae pounded into the trashed idealism
Like an anti-septic commercial
And thoughts of EXODUS and the bible
We became victims of a faith reversal
But there will will be cold solace in this
For the gloved left fist.

I thought of distant times
Where reality wiped out role models
As their dreams vanished into hallocinogenic fungi.

An Ontario man and his two children have turned up safe after getting lost in the woods on their way to an Alberta wedding.

RCMP Const. Jason Curtis says David Hill, 33, along with daughter Sierra Hill, 10, and son Riley, 8, set off from Edmonton International Airport on Saturday morning.

They were destined for a family wedding in Hinton, a couple hours drive west of the city, that was scheduled for 11 a.m.

Family members got a call Saturday afternoon from one of the children in the car that they apparently got off the highway and were lost in a wooded area.

The phone then cut out and Curtis says the family spent the night in their rental car before finding someone Sunday morning who directed them back to the highway.

He says he doesn't know why the Hills left the highway.

And exactly where were they?

"I don't know if they're entirely sure of that,'' Curtis said.

RCMP said a ping from the cell phone placed them in the area of Obed, Alberta, which is between Edson and Hinton.

Police said they launched a full search for the family out of concern for the ages of the children and for the fact that some of the group suffered from medical conditions.

Curtis said that after getting directions out, the family notified their relatives and police.

"It couldn't be a better outcome. Everyone's safe and sound. And we're just very happy,'' Curtis said.

"The people are moving onto their family event, though they might have missed the wedding.''

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses

My grandfather was there
We were sat down at the kitchen table
He was telling my about my hands
Said that I had writers hands
Artists hands
Painters hands
Hands like Anne 
My grandfather was drinking 
He was always drinking
Anne was pacing around 
Angry at him
Angry at him for being drunk
Again
Angry at him for being an alcoholic 

My brother and grandfather in my room
We listen to music
My brother asks my grandfather why he's not with Anne anymore 
I don't remember the reply
I remember him saying that he still loved Anne 

The door bell rings 
Its late 
I'm supposed to be asleep 
Grandfather at the door
Im watching from the stairs 
He's talking to my father
Says he needs money quick
Asks for three hundred 
My father gives it to him no questions 
My grandfather leaves 

It's Christmas 
Grandfather shows up to everyone's surprise 
He's there with no presents 
I was just glad he was there
He told me he had a necklace for me
He just had to pick it up from a friend 
I knew better though
He fell asleep on the couch 
Im glad he was there 

Its bobbys funeral
My grandfather is there
He's unhappy 
He's tired 
I don't remember much of him that day

Im at the swimming pool with my friends 
Waiting for my dad to pick us up
My grandfather is there
I haven't seen him in a while
He's so skinny
I know he's still using
He doesnt recognize me

Family dinner 
Dinner is served late
As always 
Grandfather is there 
He's showing my friend some dance steps he learned
Mentions his new lady friend 
He seems happy

My family moves half way across the country 
Leaving Edmonton behind
The next time I hear news about my grandfather its from my father
He saw my grandfather at my great grandmothers funeral 
He's still using and it shows
He's skinny
He's lost teeth
He's sick 

But I'll always remember the time in the kitchen 
I'll always remember when he told me I had writers hands
Artists hands
Painters hands
Like Anne

I have always been the clay
Always.
When my parents moved me from my Italian home
To Hamilton, Canada

I was the clay
I learned English
Decorated a new bedroom
Made new friends
Dressed like I was born here
I became Canadian
Without a complaint

I was the clay
When my Canadian boyfriend
Fed me Canadian food
I ate it
When he wanted me to go to the bar
With him and his friends
I went
When he wanted to watch football
Which isn’t actually football
I watched too
When he started listening to country music
I learnt all the lyrics

I was the clay
When my parents had a baby
I changed diapers
Played ball with her in the yard
Was a good babysitter
Went to the playground
Played peek-a-boo
Read children books to her in English

I was the clay
When my boyfriend wanted to take a break
I said okay
When he wanted to get back together
A month later
I said okay
When he said we should move to Edmonton
I said okay
When he asked me to make Canadian food for him
I learnt for him
When he blamed me for everything
I nodded and said sorry
When I found him in bed with another girl

I became a bird
I was not the clay
I grew feathers
Colourful and long
Then I flew
And I don’t ever plan on landing

To me, there is not justice in this world,
and no god awaiting us either.
So who, therefore, could freely harm an innocent soul,
and each night sleep in peace for ever after?

For though many things that a man has done,
may well lie dormant through the passing years,
as if safe in a long-forgotten silence,
on some calm morning,
say in magic Spring,
with Nature beautiful and moving,
memories of scars on others that he made,
they will suddenly weep and break open,
sending shivers running down the spine
to haunt and torment with knowing.

And oh thus would that I,
from my cradle to my grave,
tried so not to have left on a person,
as in my goodbye to Pat,
the cuts of human pain,
and the hurt of my thoughtless actions,
when in truth I was crying out for the love she offered me,
even in the moment I last saw her.

Because your heart may never, ever, be given a chance again,
to express your regret and your deep sorrow.