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

 

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