Saturday, June 15, 2019

Father's Day




Father's Day

The subtle chime of Westminster clock echoes another hour, as light in the evening sky slowly recedes from the living room window into the shadows of early dusk…the house is quiet except for the ticking of the clock, but the old mans thoughts are very much alive with the moving figures of children, laughing from chasing games they played so long ago...“Beware the Claw!” and “Roar”!

Memories, all with happy endings, play out in his mind like old black and whites as he sits comfortably in a shapely wooden chair passed down to him from his grandfather.

Content, a smile trembles on his lips with far away gaze, captured in the mirror with the last rays of light from the sky. It’s Fathers day, and his children would surly call…

Would they remember the silly bedtime stories that never had an ending, the summer campfires of sparks and marshmallows, stargazing till sleep took them in lawn chairs, or the walks in elf forest, with the plunder of the elves little treasure chest full of old coins found in the hollow of a tree…would they remember the winter magic of jumping in snow drifts ten feet tall, the toboggan runs full of laughter or the ice rink behind the house with lit up trees and imaginations…It’s Fathers day, and his children would surely call.

Thoughts turn to his own father, the man that took life by the horns, and made everything alright. A hero who fought on the side of good in World War II, who became a community builder, coach, mentor and teacher. The man who drove his son around on his Sunday paper route in a four-door powder blue Plymouth Fury III with perfectly folded newspapers stacked in rows on the front seat ready for delivery by a nine-year-old boy.

Memories wisp and billow to an age in time when the boy was gently woken by the aroma of buttered toast, coffee, and CFCF radio 600; his father was always the first one up and made them all breakfast. Hockey games in the winter, soccer in the summer and football in the fall, all echo the old man’s cheers and shouts of encouragement in the halls of yesteryear that encompass fond memories in a boy now past his fathers age…

The clock chimed another hour and still the phone was silent…no worry, today is Fathers day, and surly the children will call…

Thoughts go back to a hospital room where his father battled terminal illness…a cold numbness still remains from the day he passed away; recalling the helplessness felt as he watched his old man die in front of his eyes…wondering still, if he heard his words in transit to the light...“I love you Dad”!

Just as thunder startles life, a knock at the door shakes the old man to the present, as the hallway fills with the merry sounds of children and adults who fill the room with smiles and a “Happy Fathers Day Grandad”!

“Go put your things away or the Claw will come to get you!” said the old man’s son to his giddy happy little boy.



"It’s so good to see you Dad, Happy Father's Day"!
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Wednesday, June 5, 2019

Mourning Spring in the City




Mourning Spring in the City

Day breaks shadows of the night,
returns the colours to our sight,
crimson reds, bright orange and white,
clouds and omens in the light.

Purple hues streak pinkish skies,
morning yawns an early rise,
with lilac blooms on the breeze,
to mask the acrid air we breathe.

Clouds of grey in aura of blue,
their movements let the sun rays through,
brilliant colours in rainbow hue,
with solemn promise to renew.

Golden blankets cover lawns,
of forest green and greys of dawn,
flowers remain, with florets gone,
the lion weeds begin to spawn.

Pods emerge in puffy display,
such perfect spheres in every way,
showing secrets of suns array,
in calm before, they’re washed away.

Wind picks up to awake the trees,
their flowers waiting, for the bees,
yet blight is present on their leaves,
that shiver’s fever in the breeze.

Silence pierced by a robin’s thrill,
nourishment captured in her bill,
as thunder rocks the morning still,
and rainfall brings a misty chill.

Factory skies now cleansed by rain,
as earthen tears begin to wane,
a breath of air to ease the pain,
and flush the poisons down the drain.


World United Productions

Folk & Acoustic Music - 2010 to 2019

Progressive Rock - 2000 to 2016

Poetry & Prose

Great music not found anywhere else! – The Minstral Show