"muskoka" poems - Hello Poetry

I saw Stewart and Maud under a locust tree in Kensington market. They had new bicycles. She leaned her sweaty, curly head on his bicep. They had baguettes, flowers, asparagus and apples from the farm booths in their packs, Buzet and Minervois from the liquor store, library books. They had life-loving things. He says that for him this new life is instead of being an artist in Paris: Backpacks, bicycles, the look of young lovers. The little possessions That don't feel like a car or a house. They are wearing bright white t shirts And denim overalls. His children are confused. They have little money. He joined the many who have refused to be punished for a mistake. My friend Stewart lives with a university student. You get to their Annex apartment up iron stairs bolted to the Outside of a building of old brick coloured like a driftwood campfire. The bed's iron. She's been an adult for seven years. Iron, bricks, flowers, white iron bed, Stewart has the skills to make it good, he's done this before, made the Muskoka Chairs, the harvest tables, and sold them, repaired window frames and doors, Advertised in supermarkets. He likes to breathe, to drink water, to cut wood and dress it, To study, to read, to live well with a woman, to write in the evening, to make life like art. Paul Anthony Hutchinson www.paulanthonyhutchinson.com copyright Paul Anthony Hutchinson

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Apr 26, 2017

Apr 26, 2017 at 10:52 PM UTC

paul-anthony-hutchinson

Stewart in the streets of Kensington Market in Toronto

I saw Stewart and Maud under a locust tree in Kensington market. They had new bicycles. She leaned her sweaty, curly head on his bicep. They had baguettes, flowers, asparagus and apples from the farm booths in their packs, Buzet and Minervois from the liquor store, library books. They had life-loving things. He says that for him this new life is instead of being an artist in Paris: Backpacks, bicycles, the look of young lovers. The little possessions That don't feel like a car or a house. They are wearing bright white t shirts And denim overalls. His children are confused. They have little money. He joined the many who have refused to be punished for a mistake. My friend Stewart lives with a university student. You get to their Annex apartment up iron stairs bolted to the Outside of a building of old brick coloured like a driftwood campfire. The bed's iron. She's been an adult for seven years. Iron, bricks, flowers, white iron bed, Stewart has the skills to make it good, he's done this before, made the Muskoka Chairs, the harvest tables, and sold them, repaired window frames and doors, Advertised in supermarkets. He likes to breathe, to drink water, to cut wood and dress it, To study, to read, to live well with a woman, to write in the evening, to make life like art. Paul Anthony Hutchinson www.paulanthonyhutchinson.com copyright Paul Anthony Hutchinson

20

rainfall creates wreckage on sleepy country towns the river submerges roads and houses they're searching for higher ground the pubs and the stores on Main Street all normally alight are drowning in Muskoka river through water they must fight back roads are gone all washed away the Big East River is rising state of emergency declared the town will survive for help is soon arriving

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Apr 21, 2013

Apr 21, 2013 at 10:58 PM UTC

kassel-d

flooded

rainfall creates wreckage on sleepy country towns the river submerges roads and houses they're searching for higher ground the pubs and the stores on Main Street all normally alight are drowning in Muskoka river through water they must fight back roads are gone all washed away the Big East River is rising state of emergency declared the town will survive for help is soon arriving

14

amongst verdant glens of evergreen, ‘twixt feral realms of boreal splendour. the wilderness calls to the heavens, in a chorus of birdsong, of whispering leaves, the howl of the wolf and the fawn’s tender cry, from the fierce sanctity of mother earth. her roots pierced below the powd’ry ground. slender branches soaring skyward, lined with strokes of emerald trusses— their lissome needles gracefully sharp; brushed in thin sheets of glittering frost, & laced with a flurry of shimmering sleet. adorned with clusters of robust pinecones, russet blossoms of sturdy petals, clustered upon the tails of branches, & scattered throughout the sylvan floors— cloak’d in silken blankets of snow and frost. soaked in the cold gauze of lunar light.

0

Jan 17, 2018

Jan 17, 2018 at 10:01 AM UTC

skanadario

winter in muskoka

amongst verdant glens of evergreen, ‘twixt feral realms of boreal splendour. the wilderness calls to the heavens, in a chorus of birdsong, of whispering leaves, the howl of the wolf and the fawn’s tender cry, from the fierce sanctity of mother earth. her roots pierced below the powd’ry ground. slender branches soaring skyward, lined with strokes of emerald trusses— their lissome needles gracefully sharp; brushed in thin sheets of glittering frost, & laced with a flurry of shimmering sleet. adorned with clusters of robust pinecones, russet blossoms of sturdy petals, clustered upon the tails of branches, & scattered throughout the sylvan floors— cloak’d in silken blankets of snow and frost. soaked in the cold gauze of lunar light.

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