Dinner

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Dinner

I will raise a glass tonight
and drink to you.
Red wine with dinner
or, perhaps, a cold beer.
I will imagine,
as I sometimes do,
what it would be like
if you could still be here.

The wonderful comfort
of a family gathering.
A backyard barbecue
or, perhaps, a dinner out.
I will remember,
as I often do,
all the little things
that this life is about.

The simple satisfaction
of a table set for many.
Candles on a birthday cake
or, perhaps, an apple pie.
I will look around,
as I usually do,
feel extremely fortunate
and know exactly why.

Tonight, I will say a few words
in honour of you Norm.
Break bread with your granddaughters
and, perhaps, toss a salad in a bowl.
Sit at the head of the table,
as I proudly do,
as a kind and giving father 
content in his role.
—————
You would be eighty-five today,

if you were with us.
There is one less table setting
so, perhaps, you are not.
But we celebrate you today,
as we always will,
because this birthday meal
gives us food for thought.

 

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Silence

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Silence

 I hear the furnace kick in, on this cool morning.
An awakening nudge, from within the silence…
my creative silence.

It is then that I notice,
gradually notice more
The nuances of early morning
Just outside my door
The stillness of the lake
The shadows near the shore
A family of four ducks
And behind them two more
A peaceful place to begin my day
Alone, with some time to explore

A window to an opened mind.
A unique view, from within the silence…
my creative silence.

The façade of my introspection
Protective, but paper thin
Accessible, in the early morning
Without the voices or the din
An undisturbed opportunity
To summon, from within
The chance to visit places
Where I have seldom been
Insights, subtly perceptible
Like the drop of a pin

The sound of my ideas resonates,
clearly audible to me, from within the silence…
my creative silence.

Discernable refrains of thought
Echoing inside my peaceful shell
The intricacies of perception
From the depths of my well
The complexities of emotion
The conflicts that I must quell
Lost, and found, in the early morning
Immersed in what to tell
A place to elevate my opinions
Up from where they fell

I find my positive inspiration,
emerging, from within the silence…
my creative silence.

The early morning moves me
As the words start to flow
Drifting through the shadows
Like the ducks, in a row
Lines of innate substance
Gaining momentum as they go
Buoyant, lucid, more certain
Shedding inhibitions as they grow
Brought into the morning light
From this tranquil place I know

The quiet of the morning finds me here.
Where I can hear myself think…
within my creative silence.

 

Bursting

Bursting
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Only so many hours
in the day
Only so much time
for me to say
All of those words
that come to mind
To paint a portrait
of what I find
Insightful illustrations
of what I see
The bursts of life
inside of me
The ups, the downs
The ebb and the flow
The well-springs
of what I know
Churned up images
of fluid thought
Of what get’s said
and what is not
All of the perception
that I can feel
Tones of my life
vivid and real
Influence and congruence
The patterns, the places
The people I meet
and their names and faces
Observations, interpretations
Details, I mentally store
The impressions and opinions
that I refuse to ignore
Extremes of emotions
like a creative rage
Bursting out of me
to the waiting page
Adrenaline and adjectives
The immediacy of an urge
Balance of a judgement
on the very verge
Constructive, controlled
Consequence to the noun
The weight of the words
eases me down
Explicitly extracted
from
rapid thought

From what can be said
and what cannot
All of the choices
that come to light
Rhythms of my life,
the wrong, the right

A tumultuous ride  
The message sent
A burst of sensations
in time well spent
Only so many hours
left in the day
Yet so much more
that I have to say
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