Denmark in snowy weather!

I’ll try to help you recognize otherwise common signs in typical snowy weather
Not for the faint at heart, not even
the most tried and true Canadian
from Québec will be able to say:
“Snow in Denmark – A piece of cake!” Famous last words if you ask me!


One track coming, and one going.


Looking back to where I came from.


Sign for combination bike path and pedestrian walkway. Mind them both, won’t you?


Here is a crosswalk sign, cleverly disguised to fool the unwary.


Location where a visiting Canadian, got lost and Danish sled dogs had to be called out.


Here is a snow cornice, mother in-law approved

Here is what goes down well, warming you through and through
after having braved the Danish Winter


“Æbleskiver” a sort of ball-like doughnut, eaten
with marmalade, and/or sugar

Frozen shown on right. 2 minutes in the Microwave Oven, and….Yumm!

Remember. Forewarned is forearmed.

If/when you decide to brave the wilds
of Denmark…


Way Too Much Me

I complained to her
“There is way too much me out there
and not enough you!”

She disagreed, just
like I knew she would
she felt, she thought
she filled enough of the page
the finer points, the verbs
while I felt she was choking on
the conjugations,

“Spit them out here”.
I said
pointing to the plate, as if I a dentist
she wanted the cup of water, but I refused
saying that
if you can’t hold your syllables, then you aren’t made
for blogging,

She pushed my work onto her site,
pried the edges, hammered them into place
but I still felt, they didn’t quite fit their frame

“Take it out”, I argued
she wrestled with the can
as if the garbage man was pounding on the door
“I’m not throwing out your work”, she taunted
“but mine instead, all those post
that never went anywhere”,

We fought, and pushed
I wanted her blogs back on her site,
while she kept pushing the can in the wrong

“There is still too much of me, in you” I yelled

“There will never be enough, and you know it”, she replied

A stalemate. An impasse. A point of no return

It is never easy arguing with a blogger from Montréal….


24 Wishes

24 wishes
I give to you
the first December
will you start to receive,

These wishes for you I have
until the Eve of Christmas
filling your days with song and story
chilly winter days, black starry nights
Advent lights, my fondest hopes

Light a candle for me
when the darkness creeps and cries
when the wind howls and scratches
upon your doors and windows
while I light a candle for you,

24 wishes
not one being so different
than the previous, then the next
all of them wrapped with ribbon
a card neatly printed
your name, my name included

Think of what is called Hygge
not just being cosy, nor only feeling good
but many other things as well,

Christmas Cookies, and Advent Calendars,
Nisse – Elves, and Twisted Dough -Norske Klejner,
sharing time with others, candle light abounds
the cold cracks, the shortened days, longer nights

The Danish Christmas Time is upon us

24 wishes
all wrapped up and sent
surprise was my intention
small intentions, while the frost appears
the postman unaware of what he brings
the Internet is indifferent as to what data is exchanged,

24 wishes
with a toast of Glögg, the mulled-wine warms
while the fire burns hot,
a toast, a hope for you and yours
a wish, the thought for me and mine,

An ocean of thought
separates us now
the waves of the Atlantic
dark and deep, carrying this note
in my imaginary bottle to you,

24 wishes
with the last being just before
Julemand – Father Christmas
arrives in Denmark, with his Nisser – Elves
eating Rice Pudding left for them,
while the presents are left behind

Glædelig Jul,
Merry Christmas, Joyeux Noël,
Krismasi ya furaha

24 wishes….


Her Warm Heart

She had a way about her
perhaps it was the way
in which she smiled
her look
different than any others,
not to be denied,

Her warm heart
the way she was with me
heating my frosty thoughts
lost in the cold
of a Canadian Winter
I was,

A gentle soul
was she
having a way that outshone others
her light, guiding
her aura, glowing where the shadows

I wanted to know her
but she was out of my reach
only to notice, to feel the outcome
the joy she spread around her,

Have you known someone,
someone like her?
a unique individual, existing
never truly out of my thoughts
for long

not for long…..


Traveling Memories – Lost

I woke up brutally to his yelling from the bathroom.

“Someone broke in during the night!” he screamed, his hands flapping in the air, as if he was trying to express his distress with semaphore. Who still knows semaphore anyway, I meant to ask him, but I didn’t think that would be of any help…

“They took all your Montréal memories away!”

Montréal? That barely rang a bell, now that he mentioned it. I could see all the maple leaf and fleur de lysée flags on my bags in the corner of the room, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I had those stitched in.

“Vof vof!” The weird sound came from the bath tub. Nervously, he pulled the curtain away, revealing a dog and two sheep sitting in the tub. “Woof!” he shouted back, while the dog tilted its head to the side… “Vof Vof!” barking back again, as if it was arguing.

“No! This is no time to eat, stupid dog!” he replied at once, and I looked at him, wondering where on Earth he could have learned Icelandic. In Tibet, of course… I suddenly remembered how he had brought his Icelandic Harry Potter to practice while I was getting my sun tan/burn lying on the sandy beach along the Zhaga Qu River, only wearing my prettiest smile.

His gaze went from the Icelandic sheepdog back to me, and I could see the disappointment in his eyes. “There’s nothing Montréalish left about you!” he murmured, with a let-me-get-you-a-one-way-ticket-to-Albania-honey tone to his voice. But I was no girl to give up our traveling together over such futile details…

“Why don’t we settle that simmering in the Blue Lagoon, my dear? I hear the warm waters work miracles!”

His eyes brightened a bit, “Blue Lagoon, uh? Come on Leifar! Come along, boy!! Nope, you leave your sheep here!” and within minutes we were driving fast and furiously on the Iceland countryside roads.

“Why Leifar, my love?” His gaze left the road for a second, rolling his eyes at me, as if I was oblivious to the obvious. “Leifar… Leftover… That’s all we have now, wouldn’t you say?”

I left him to think he was right, and in no time, he was pulling out in the Blue Lagoon’s parking.

“Let’s go skinny dippin’ Baby!” he declared, in a less than enthusiastic way.

It was a given, though, since we hadn’t packed swimsuits for our Mars escapade. “Vof vof!” barked Leifar, as we left Leftover behind, hoping to heal my Tibet sunburns and loss of interest from my one and only.

Undressing by the steamy waters, I was trying to focus on how smooth my skin would feel, after a good bathing in the turquoise natural pool, when I noticed a sparkle in his eyes… Following his gaze, I looked down my ankle and noticed something that had eluded my mind, throughout the day.

The little white and blue flag, tattooed down on my leg…

“Oooh yeah Baby… Dive in! We can always visit Reykjavik’s Police Station tomorrow to get your memories back. That should be interesting…”

But things were already getting interesting, if you ask me.

This piece is the work of Cyranny. She is my first, one and only, guest contributor with her slant on my Fantasy Travel Series. You can find a lot more of her Canadian poetry, fiction, stories about her Cat – hmm -not a dog, and humor here:
PS Don’t be fooled about her love for Denmark. Everyone is allowed at least one mistake in their lives about an idea they had…..

Her Pain of Living

We are not closer to each other
than what we imagine us to be
the distance is not important
there is no distance, no time

Her pain of living, of loving
real as real can be

She’d seek me out
wanting a friend to tell
wanting a friend to understand,

Just listening, you see
just listening without pity

Not having to judge, pointing fingers
at life, at someone who brought her pain
or, dealing with the pain from within,
pain that drove everyone, everything else out

I knew it somehow
I knew from time to time
judging from her silence
the spaces between her words
the words unsaid, mostly unsaid,

Her pain, real enough
not having an explanation for such
not wondering anymore why, but more
when the pain would recede
leaving her empty inside, drained
relieved that the tide had gone out
leaving her high and dry again,

Her pain of living
her pain of loving
both real topics to me
even though, I couldn’t
in my wildest imagination
in my most vivid dreams
what she was going through,

Just listening, you see
just listening without pity

That’s all she ever wanted

What I could give her..


A Short Walk Home

He was waiting for her
when she got off work

Unexpected, but

“Are you here to escort me?”

“Yes.” He replied. “Your short walk home”

“Oh, What a surprise. She giggled”

“Will you be staying long in Montréal?”
she asked rather hopeful, it seemed.

“No. I’ll just be passing through this part
of your imagination tonight”
he said, as if he always spoke like that.

“Well, we’re here”, he said and gave her a small hug.

“Don’t let go so quickly” she replied. “You are not here
that often”

“Only in your dreams, I guess” he said, as he drifted into the night.

“Dream men”, she thought. “So very here, then gone”

and with that, she disappeared into his dreams…..


Unused Posts

I’m sorry about posting again, but there seems to be people out there that need to read my posts?

I wouldn’t want to name names (like Cyranny) so I won’t.

Therefore,  I have decided to use up my stock of unused posts in order to satisfy the as yet unknown reasons for wanting these posts to be posted on my site?

I could continue to fill this page with question marks, but I won’t.

So like it or not, I’ll be posting on this site for the next 35 or so posts, which should satisfy some if not all of you (like Cyranny), but which I won’t be naming on this site.


But only if you like???


How Hot Was It?

Everyone is complaining
complaining about hot
what is hot?
what is not?

Hot means ice cream
Hot means topless beaches (Denmark, you know)
Hot might mean Mini-skirts?

If there are no mini-skirts
I’ll have to let my imagination
do the walking
do the talking

I can imagine quite a bit
I can imagine what others promise
but don’t deliver

I was promised mini-skirts
I got ice cream
I got soda pop
I got cool breeze

My imagination got
what I did not,

I had been that


Bowing Down

I bow down to you
my partner in crime
our words reflect the joys
and the sorrows
of living,

How I wish,
that our paths would cross
more than those few times
that have graced us
and drawn us closer,

I look forward
to our repartee
the exchanging of words
of thoughts, and of memories

Despite the differences
and what time and space
has done to our closeness

We are still close enough
to share thoughts of one another,
and hold them close to our hearts,

I bow down to you
my friend of friends

I bow down to you……