Posted in Canada, Denmark, Poetry, Prose

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,

Wish
I had been that
lucky….

Posted in Canada, Poetry, Prose

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
shared,

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……

Posted in Canada, Coffee, Dogs, Humor, Poetry, Prose

Too Many Cigarettes

Too much coffee
too much loving
too much sugar
too much insanity
-when you threw a chair at me
too much wonder
too few sunsets
too many cigarettes
too many thoughts of you two
too many thoughts of just me
too many fleas on my dog
too many toos in this poem
too few letters written by me
to you…..

Posted in Canada, Life, Poetry, Prose

Heading to Bed

Not everyone can keep
track of my imagination
even though,
I’ve attempted
to put it down
on this piece
of virtual paper,
I wish, anyone,
who would like to run
the Fantasy Race with me,
would put on their
runners
and take a trip
on my imagination
There is room for more
than one,
and if you are
from Canada,
you might
even get to sit up front
with me,
and honk
my
horn…

Posted in Canada, Denmark, Poetry, Prose

Silver Thoughts, Golden Wishes

Not being with you
increases the difficulty
of consoling you
when you hurt,

I can write ream of words
letters, and well-wishes
without really getting to touch
the beauty that is you,

My silver thoughts and golden wishes
sent across the airwaves, the synapses
across the cosmic ether, the spaces
between your smile and mine,

The seconds between thinking of you
then thinking of you again
comprise my warmest wishes
my fondest hopes and most loving
feelings, those which are mine alone
to give

More words
being only pale reminders
of our otherwise rich conversations
when we are sitting closer
than others would deem proper

being yours truly
with all my fondest thoughts

-me

Posted in Canada, Poetry, Prose, Relationships

A Fit of Spring Cleaning

While in a fit
of Spring Cleaning
she found her floor
by accident,
I asked her if
she’d found a new lover,
or perhaps lost one along the way
under what she didn’t seem
to care about anyway?

She didn’t respond directly,
but if there had been someone
he would just be placed aside
with the other non-essentials…

If she had thrown him aside, then he’d just be Jetsam, but
If he had gone missing after meeting his apparent fate with her
-he’d be considered Flotsam

I think she would have an easier time explaining his disappearance, if they had lived on a ship

Just a suggestion, that’s all….

Posted in Canada, Poetry, Prose, Relationships

That Foreign Woman

She caught me
red-handed
with another woman
in bed,
all those lies
and concealed truths,
the years waiting for me
to finally do right by her,
then when she thought
she finally could trust me
that fatal night happened
caught red-handed
with another woman

with that woman, just being her,
that’s all…..

Posted in Canada, Poetry, Prose

My Head Hurt

My memory failed me
as I stood up, I fell
not being able to keep
my balance,

Around my feet
were empty bottles of
Pinot Noir
their gaping mouths
not being able to speak
anymore,

I dared not
look behind me
on the bed, of which
I now sat

A funny feeling
came over me, as if
I had been here before
at least in her imagination
of all places,

“Are you coming back to bed?”
a voice beckoned, with an idea of French in it,
my mind tried to remember, where
I had heard it before
or if, I should feign amnesia
starting

Yesterday…..

Posted in Canada, Copenhagen, Denmark, Poetry, Prose, Relationships

Waiting for the Woodpeckers

I was sitting on your doorstep
trying to think
in an Canadian way,
while waiting
for the woodpeckers to come,

I imagined taking a walk
with you, or waiting to meet
your parents, using my best French,
which I don’t speak
by the way,

Imagination takes me
far away, and closer to you
but I do miss seeing
your eyes light up
when the Danish Sun
goes down,

If you are in Copenhagen
and I, in Aalborg
then the time zone we share
would make it seem
as if you were a bit closer
to me,

Just without
the Woodpeckers of Montréal

Posted in Canada, Denmark, Prose, Relationships

It seems

It seems
that you’ve tripped
and stumbled

And I
have watched you silently
as you picked yourself up
brushed off your pride
and excused yourself
for being clumsy, and all

I wish
there was a middle road
that didn’t involve
Life’s big questions
letting the past,
be that, which was passed

If only
you could be you
and me, me
then let the stumbling
blocks alone, and don’t worry
about falling again

Because we all
have moments
where life makes us
unsteady, and uncertain
with the ground moving
in unpredictable ways

I would like you
to remain the you of before
and not worry, that I
have lost faith in you
or, what you may
or may not say

So, the next time
that you chance to fall
and stumble a bit,
then ask me, if it has
never happened to me
before?

Not being perfect, myself
I know the answer
already….