My books title poem

Lake Erie Calling

The kiss of morning at water’s edge

beguiling dance of sand and sea

seducing me a solemn pledge

my beauty’s deep come play with me

Sunlight shines on silky sand

as the water rolls to shore

the dance, hypnotic, licking land

gentle waves cannot ignore

The lake alive a soul that’s willing

one glacier’s frozen past

left to hold fresh water filling

roams a voice, to help it last

Schools of fish begin to whither

rotting garbage is to blame

do you hear the willow whisper?

its nourishment, Lake Erie came

Ducks in habit crown the lake

upon its shores they build their nests

their young to swim and take a break

while song birds gather, bathe and rest

The deer, the fox, exposed, alluring

fresh water begs them to the shore

nature speaks, we are enduring

save the water we implore!

I want to enter the seductive waterbed

my presence squatting, silent, stalling

instead I teeter at water’s edge

and listen to Lake Erie calling

April is National Poetry Month

Please join me in creating a poem. Take a look at this picture then under comments write your line/s and I will add them to the poem. It will be ongoing until April 30th.

In the wilderness of poetry I stumbled upon a path…

Little signs and whispers directing me as I wonder where my feet will lead me next

The culling starts now!

With intention Evil

I will bring you down

to the depths of hell

not I alone, but my legion

there are many

Great Souls you have met

over the centuries

A plan was contrived

may I remind you

of the coming demise

of you and your Cabal

your choice!

I am not of this world

you are the master whore here!

There is a culling

the reapers scythe is raised

do not be fooled by the wars you win

or the legions you gather

There is another force here

Much Greater!

that cares for balance and justice

the only question is

Are you ready?

Oh, Canada

oh, Canada I have wandered far

time marked in travelling

grounded in muck and mire

coutless paths paved by sole

in all directions

crisscrossing while conjuring my place

breathing just breathing

oh, Canada you have drawn me in

the shape of your rocky cliffs

the crevice between your valleyed breasts

an addict wanting only to climb

and conquer your peaks

oh, Canada you entice my poets eye

sensing and envisioning

your passionate plea for me to look deeper

to surrender

to plant my seed

oh, Canada forgive my loyal ignorance

your Canadian shield is your blanket of peace

your land drowning in deciduous

and coniferous beings

whose vapours like poignant contrails

beg me to enter

Oh, Canada your land is strong and free

my patriot love is possessed by your call

forever I will notice

forever I will stand

forever I am entangled

I plant myself in love to thee


Today I shift



of the Goddess within


is the moment

to let go

as a ripple in perpetual motion



to rise up

shape shifting

Law of Divine right action

Today I choose


my thoughts


I create my own world

Photo of Dad

A moment captured in time

of a fathers struggle to live

even in the depths of pain and discomfort.

Resting in a chair at window ledge

peering and frowning as if to memorize,

immortalize this moment.

A mini vacation set aside

to help rejeuvenate and de-stress.

Niagara Falls river rushing by

through windowpane.

His pain as deep and disguised

as the rivers current.

Mom notices his absence of thought

and clicks the camera.

The flash awakens his dreamy state

as he smiles at her

What was he thinking?

She loves him dearly and misses him already.

A black and white photo left behind

that will never reveal

the life of colour they shared in the 51 years of marriage!

The Wilderness of Poetry (Won a place in Gertrudes Writing Room annual 2020 chapbook contest)

In the wilderness of poetry

I’m wondering if you can envision

what I ascertain?

Readers are so subjective

I search for truth, beauty and

courage in life

I grasp for inclusion

I am wild, free, alone

creating a moment

of belonging

Do you even see the forest for the trees?

A dangerous place

this wilderness

damp, earthy

vulnerable poetry

How will you even see me with closed eyes?

My breath like a slow fog expels

I smell the pines in the forest

standing firm, grounded, expansive

limbs spread upward in worship

I belong here

My pen is my voice

like the smell of the pines

It cries out to be noticed

Fragrant words seducing you closer

vowels lighting the narrow path

to the truth, beauty and courage of the forest

Standing firm, I succumb to the wilderness

within me

anticipating true belonging.