POETRY CORNER

  • Called Feelings

     

    No one there to wipe my tears

    No one there to change my fears

    No one there to kiss goodnight

    No one there that I can love with all my  might

    No one there to make my bed

    No one there to say, "I said"

    No one there to give me my bear

    No one there to change my swear

    No one there to tell me what to wear

    But there is someone there to say "Goodbye"

    WHY?

    No one there so I can cry

    Give me your shoulder so I can cry

    Then I won't have to say "Goodbye "

     

    by Jerry Logher, Grandview, Muskoka

     

     

    Country Life is Great

     

    Country life is fun and gay.

    We like to ride horses through the day.

    At night the horses have to be fed

    And then it's time to go to bed.

    The next day we run around

    Picking choke cherries off the ground.

    We like to climb on the hills.

    Then while we eat our lunch everything is still.

    I think the country is a great place to live.

     

    by Debbie Madill, age 13, Moose Jaw

     

     

    Two Poems by CATHIE JACKSON, 16 years old, from Moose Jaw

     

    THE DUSK OF THE EVENING

     

    Now the golden orange sun is setting

    Below the soft pink clouds

    with the strongly purple sky

    surrounding

    The sky all around is getting blue-black

    and also rolling hills,

    plains are darkening

    With many tree and bush

    shadow to the grounds and gardens.

    Now the sun has set

    Sky all is pitch black

    The great big bright

    yellow half moon is

    shining down with all its might

    During night and early morn that's what gives gift of light to all

    Now the little bright sparkle stars are gleaming too

    Noticing the Dipper Twins

    and can you imagine

    "The cow jumped over the moon!"

    All is dark enough

    For children to snuggle up

    For their fantastic fun time with cheerful dreams

    All is quiet, calm, till

    Morning rises.

     

    THE GEORGIA STRAIT

     

    While the ocean green water

    flows gleamfully through the strait

    The shores of land bring their brightness of joy

    Many a good for sight-seeing.

    The shores off from the forest with sand on the beaches

    are filled with golden silky sand

    and gifts from the tide bring their sparkling shells.

    Floating along in the bubbly water

    The seaweed and many other strange plants

    come to the shore with their curiosity interest gifts.

    From a boat looking

    down is the ocean floor beauty, barnacles, oyster shells, rock

    platforms and all

    Many lively little crabs

    and lobsters are crawling.

    Along side the sandy beach

    The big rocks of great rest and warmth

    People lie for sun tans

    Her sun does the best

    Especially after you walk in the water,

    For water glistening feeling.

     

     

    ERNESTINE THE PIG       

     

    ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS A NICE PIG NAMED ERNESTINE. HE LIVED IN THE COUNTRY OF STY. ONE DA Y HE WAS DANCING IN THE FIELD AND ROLL­ING IN THE MUD. SUDDENL Y HE TURNED INTO A WILD PIG AND THE BOY EARL CAPTURED HIM AND TRAINED HIM TO BE A TRAI NED PIG.

     

    ODE TO ERNESTINE THE PIG

     

    ONCE UPON A TIME HE WAS A COUNTRY DOCTOR,

    MINISTERING TO THE ILLS OF LESS EDUCATED PIGS.

    ERNESTINE WAS A DETECTIVE, A NOTCH ABOVE MANNIX.

    HE WAS A COP AND SAVED THESE INSANE PIGS OF NEW YORK CITY.

    WRITTEN BY HIS MASTER, MISTER EARL T.

    IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE THIS IS TRUE,

    COME AND TELL ME TO MY FACE.

    ACTUALLY MANY WINTERS AGO,

    ERNESTINE WAS A POET (LAUREATE)

    AND HE WROTE THIS POEM.

     

    BY EARL THAW

    Age 14

  • Poems by SHARON MOORE, age 19, Newmarket

     

    I sit — alone.

    No one sees me — almost as though I were invisible to their eyes.

    I am still.

    I sit.

    I listen to the sounds engulfing me. They are all directed around me; Above, below and beyond me. But never intended for my ears alone.

    I sit.

    I concentrate on deciphering the meanings of the sounds

    But I do not comprehend.

    I speak

    But my feeble attempts at communication are swept, Swept — swiftly into the tide of other speech. Swept — into oblivion.

    I am small and defenseless against the cruelty of the adult world.

    I crave companionship, understanding

    But I am small.

    Obscure.

    Alone and ignored.

    Very few seem to know of my existence.

    And they don't care.

    I am small,

    Silent

    And I sit still.

    Inside me stronger than a train it pushes.

    Demanding explanations and understanding.

    Reality is non existing

    Fantasy is dominating.

    Trying to comprehend he loosens reality by making fantasy seem so unreal.

    Unknown to him inside reality alone exists.

    Pain so sharp outside it would rip me apart.

    Fear unbearable it's hard not to pretend,

    But he helps and he said that he would never give up.

     

    THE UNKNOWN FEAR

     

    Standing there in the cold dark night waiting for the bus,

    Fear crawls all over me.

    I can't kick it.

    I fantasize about being at home and daddy being close and making it safe

    But the fear of reality is much too strong.

    A man walked by, I jumped

    Another stopped and asked me if I wanted a ride.

    Just thinking about the amount of fear I swore I would never go through it again But daddy asked me to try and change.

    Tomorrow will come I will wait for the same bus with the same fear There will be but one difference I want to change and I will.

     

     

    Two Poems  by Judy Melnyk, Newmarket

     

    Joy

     

    The great earth drinks deeply of the summer sunshine

    And her being is bathed in the summer sunlight

    Beyond the pasture over the green

    The sunbeams fall upon it in a stream

    And are absorbed into the texture of the earth.

    One can see the life-giving light and feel the warmth Entering the core of the earth One can feel it as the land inhales And the flowers drink deep and long.

    There is the hum of summer in the air

    The bird songs, the rustle of the leaves

    And the whisper of swaying spring grass

    It is the soul song coming from the earth itself.

    A little of the flowers loveliness The wind leaves for me A few gentle thoughts of their Beautiness and happiness.

    The dullness and worry of the day's toil

    The darkness of the cities

    Are washed away clean by the wind

    And the falling of pure sunlight

    I'm beginning to feel the joy of life

    And the wealth of people to me.

    The summer is over

    And once again the world is sleeping

    Of all those people who toil

    How many think of the beauty

    And loveliness of the earth and life.

    The shuttered in towns and cities

    With their colorless days

    With ugly smoke clouds and gloomy buildings

    Why do these people shut themselves away.

    The inside feelings are so great It makes you feel strong and good Life

    can be rewarding in so many ways.

     

    Changed

     

    The gloom has passed

    The darkness has rolled away,

    The veil which hung so long

    Before the face of the waiting world

    Is being lifted like the mist

    That encircles my life.

    This dark mist is

    Fading away so I can

    See the beauty of the day,

    Beauty of people and life.

    Changed is the meaning of life to me,

    Deeper and deeper it goes

    The future I look to,

    It has great promise,

    Not only for you, but for me. 

    The following poem was written by LESLEY HENRY,  daughter of Bob Henry, director of individual and group counselling. The poem was written when the neighbours were suing to close down one of our Scarborough houses.

     

    They are a family

    growing together

    helping each other

    The crowds are jealous because

    they want to grow, too

    So they kick the family

    in the teeth

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