poem- universal messages
Strangers in the mall. Abridged.
“Excuse me?
Can I just say, you look beautiful?
You’re so vibrant and joyful!”
“Why, thank you.
I was just told at a writing conference
that I am colorful and songful.”
“Oh yes! What a perfect description! You are!
What writing conference was this?
I’ve always wanted to write!
The universe has brought you to me
to give me this message!”
“I hope you’ll join us next year,
please say hello. I’ll still look like
this, but hopefully there’ll be less of me.”
“Oh! There’s less of ME! I just lost 40 lbs,
just walking and cutting out chips.”
“Well done!
Clearly the universe brought you to me today.”
poem- greeting May 31, 2014
So welcome are you
the eagle soars to your window
and grebes dance across the water,
all eager to hear your
words on the lake.
Those Bloody Teachers Seem to Go on Strike Every Year May 30, 2014
So well said!
The teachers are on strike again? It seems as if they go on strike every year and make our kids lose school days.
Actually, they don’t. Never mentioned, in headline or media, is that since 2001, B.C.’s Liberal government has caused the loss of many more school days than the B.C.T.F ever could.
One media outlet, not untypically, screamed;
“3 strikes, 14 school days lost since 1995, because of the B.C.T.F., one of B.C.’s most “militant” unions.”
While it’s true that teacher strikes resulted in the loss of 14 school days since 1995, such headlines are inexcusably misleading and inflammatory.
Teachers had the right to strike from 1987 to 2002 when the government declared Education an Essential service, outlawed strikes, and removed working conditions from the collective bargaining process.
Ten of the 14 aforementioned lost school days resulted from a single strike in 2005, a strike in response to…
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poem- halo
You glow
with a joy
that makes my heart heal
that makes my soul sing
that make me glimmer
poem- procrastination
I plainly do not wish to write
the essay I had planned tonight
Instead I filled the night with song
but at midnight I think that was wrong
No work to show for hours gone by
My eyes are sore, I’m prone to sigh
The essay will not write itself
The due day looms like Dante’s hell
I greatly fear procrastination
has thwarted my determination!
So wish me luck, just one day left
The due date rises like my stress!
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I arranged a tune. I made a video. I did not work on my essay. Plainly I’ve been absorbing too much from the teenagers all around me! lol Tomorrow is the last chance. Wish me luck!
music-Skye Boat Song on harp May 29, 2014
Here’s a little break from ranting poems or pugilistic poetry! In honour of the upcoming Outlander TV show, here’s an ‘arrangement in progress’ I’ve made of The Skye Boat Song, which I’m betting is incorporated into the TV show theme.
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For the technically curious:
I am playing a double strung harp. (This was definitely easier before I had bifocals, though it was challenging enough then). There are three octaves on each side of the harp, tuned to the same notes. 44 strings in all. This is a low-head Celtic harp, in the style of the famous Irish Brian Boru harp or the Scottish Queen Mary harp. It is also known as a Scottish clarsach. Specifically, mine is a Brittany harp, built for me by Stoney End 15 years ago or so. (When I bought it the Canadian dollar was around 70c US, so it was pricey!) It still has its original strings! This says it’s a tough little harp, and that I’m a lazy harpist (some people change strings a couple of times a year, to keep the sound bright). It is made from a lovely, shimmery grained cherry and has a Baltic birch soundboard with a pretty inlay strip at the base of the strings. It keeps its tuning brilliantly- rarely needing more than a titch of adjustment here and there. This is a rare blessing in a harp!
Here are The Skye Boat Song lyrics as I say them to myself while I’m playing (which does not in any way imply they are the correct lyrics!)
Speed bonny boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry
Carry the lad that’s born to be king
Over the sea to Skye!
Loud the winds blow
Loud the waves crash
Ocean’s a weary bed
La la la la
la la la la (< < < < pretty sure those aren’t the right lyrics)
Watch o’er your weary head
oh (That’s the soft D sounded to start back into the chorus)
Speed bonny boat… (etc)
I always thought somehow Flora McDonald was on this boat with him, but I think that’s just me.
I promise OJ the standard poodle is only sleeping, though he certainly does look dead. He is snoring now, in the exact same position.
poem-not me
My last pay cheque came
with a 10% fine,
because I belong to a union,
and somewhere in the province
someone else striking.
Not me.
I’m at work today,
my strike day was yesterday,
but I am fined today anyway.
A government that has twice
been told by the courts that
its actions are illegal,
that it bargains in bad faith,
that it tries to provoke problems,
simply ignores the judiciary’s order that it owes teachers
ten million dollars it took from them illegally.
Nope. This government
continues to bully its educated citizens,
labelling scape goats and whiners.
Setting its propaganda machine in motion.
Sure that no one will believe what it is really doing.
Why is the public not up in arms?
Why are they not concerned
to see a government stripping rights
from its citizens?
Perhaps people are distrustful
of the well-educated,
so it’s easy to manipulate them?
Truth: 10% is off my pay cheque,
because someone else is demanding the justice today
that I marched for yesterday.
Sixty years ago,
our boys were fighting against
injustices like this.
They are likely turning in their graves
at the new chancellor
of British Columbia
and the apathetic
citizenry
who avert their eyes,
pretending not to see,
and mutter, “At least she’s not after me.”
poem- eviction May 28, 2014
The ospreys
have reclaimed their
towering nesting boxes
evicting squatting
Canada Geese.
Their raptor eyes
study the horizon
and I wonder
if they raptured
over goose eggs.
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A corollary to an earlier post:
One commenter was concerned about goslings hurting themselves falling out of the nesting platforms. That was the least of their worries, apparently.
poem- last May 27, 2014
You are the quiet voice
who never asks for help.
You struggle to work it out while
the loud kids,
the needy kids,
the busy kids
demand the teacher’s time.
You never cause a stir
so you are rarely served
when funding’s cut
and more needs surround you.
The teacher will
always get to you last
if she can get to you
at all.
We’re not okay with that.
But the government
says teachers
are just greedy.
Shawn L. Bird 