ORGANZER: Kathy Figueroa
CONTACT: fancydaylilies@gmail.com
A day devoted to poetry readings and music in Bancroft, Ontario, is currently being planned for Saturday, September 24th, 2011, and an invitation is extended to all poets, songwriters, and musicians to participate in this project. Bancroft will be just one of over 360 communities, in over 85 countries around the world, where poets will be joining together to initiate positive changes in the global community. So far, approximately four hundred and sixty events have been scheduled to take place worldwide. Called, ‘100 Thousand Poets For Change,’ the concept of poets participating and advocating for the common good evolved from an idea that American poet/songwriter/author and editor, Michael Rothenberg, developed to try to make this world a better place via the spoken word.
The schedule for the Bancroft event is as follows:
1. 10:30 a.m. – 11:45 a.m. – an informal get together for coffee will be held at The Door Next Door Cafe, located on Bridge Street in Bancroft.
2. 12:00 p.m. – 2:30 p.m. – a scheduled poetry reading at the Bancroft Public Library will take place. An, ‘open stage,’ policy will be in effect and everyone is welcome to read either their own work, any poems that have been written by their friends or family members, or a few of their favourite poems by well known authors.
3. 2:45 – 5:00 p.m. – another gathering at The Door Next Door Cafe, this time with live music along with additional poetry. (The cafe closes at 5:00 p.m.)
4. 7:00 p.m. to ? – depending on the number of people who express interest in participating, we could then regroup at another establishment and have an, ‘open mic,’ event with more live music and more poetry!
As well, there are a few poems currently on display at Ashlie’s Books, in Bancroft, and another collection will soon be put on display at the Bancroft Public Library. This latter group will include work by some of the earlier inhabitants of this area, current local residents, and a samples of poetry from other countries.
The main focus of the Bancroft, ‘100 Thousand Poets For Change,’ event will be on the environment, so any poems or original songs that pertain to nature would be especially appreciated.
For more information about this historical event, here’s a link to the, ‘Public Event,’ page for 100 Thousand Poets For Change:
https://www.facebook.com/note.php?saved&¬e_id=270788522947950#!/event.php?eid=106999432715571
As well, I’ve set up a page on Facebook for Bancroft:
https://www.facebook.com/note.php?saved&¬e_id=270788522947950#!/groups/164740476914270/
(I think that these links might have to be copied & pasted into your browser to work.)
I’ll be posting additional info closer to the date of the event. If anyone has any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me.
The leaves of the trees turn beautiful colours in the Fall.
A view of the York River on the south side of Bridge Street in lovely downtown Bancroft, Ontario.
This is what the York River looks like from Bridge Street, when looking north.
Hi! Any poets who are interested are welcome to join the Facebook group that I created called, ‘100 Thousand Poets For Change: Bancroft, Ontario, Canada.’ I’m not exactly sure what the process is for signing up but, if there’s no option available marked, ‘Join Group,’ at the upper right hand side of the Facebook page, you could leave a message for me, here, and, as long as you’re already registered on Facebook, then I’ll be able to add you to the group.
I asked myself what time it was and myself replied, ‘Why its… Springtime In Paudash!’ (‘Paudash’ means, ‘Crane,’ in the language of the original inhabitants of this area, the Ojibway.) http://www.bancroftthisweek.com/Blogs/ViewCommunityPage.aspx?BlogID=7820
If anyone would like a copy of this poem, here’s a link to a ready-to-print version: http://www.bancroftthisweek.com/Blogs/PrintBlog.aspx?BlogID=7820
Trees (Ontario, Canada)
a tree hugger poem from the southern edge of the Boreal Forest
The hills, there, were brown and dry
There were no plants or trees
Only paths that were walked by man
For a thousand centuries
And though the blue Mediterranean
Was edged with pure white sand
Never did I feel at ease
In that distant land
Ancient and grand cities
Bore testament to the history of humankind
But I felt apprehension
For it was a barren world, enshrined
In Paris and Milan
Places, throughout the world, renowned
I looked past each stone and concrete corner
But not one tree could be found
There were no elegant sprays of green
On graceful branches, upheld
For, lost from memory, in the distant past
The last trees had been felled
Replaced with great buildings
Constructs and statues, fine
But all that man can create
Can’t compare to Nature’s design
Here, in beautiful Ontario
Where many rivers flow
Are towering pine
Tamarack, majestic birch
Spruce and graceful willow
Balsam fir, cedar, sumac
And poplar, with boughs
That shimmer in the breeze
This is why I love my home best
It’s the land of many trees
Bancroft, Ontario, Canada, is a small town that’s surrounded by wilderness and there aren’t a lot of poets in this area. For that reason, for the September 24th event, I thought I’d request copies of poems from people in different countries around the world. These poems would be read aloud and displayed on the wall, or in booklet form, at the local library!
I’ll mention that the content of these poems would have to be suitable for people of all ages, including children. If interested in participating in this project, please contact me by e-mail at: fancydaylilies@gmail.com or join the page on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/home.php?sk=group_164740476914270
The booklet would be left at the library for the public to read. (I gave the library a collection of my work, in booklet form, when I did a poetry reading there, earlier this year.) It would be great if people could include a bit of information about themselves, too, such as who they are, where they live and, maybe, what inspired them to write a particular poem.
Of course, along with the poetry, we’ll also be having some great live music and, probably, a short play. (There might not be many poets in this area, but there are LOTS of musicians!)
As part of the 100 Thousand Poets For Change event we, in Bancroft, thought it would be good if there was a change in attitude toward our natural environment. When it is adversely affected, then so are we.
Seven Poems About Wild Things
a compilation of verse
by Kathy Figueroa
Bancroft, Ontario, Canada
2011
This collection of poems is dedicated to all
of the people who are aware that we are not
the only life form of any importance on this
planet and who strive to protect the other
species from human avarice and folly.
Index
1. Like A Starry Night
2. Cormorant (Spring, 2008)
3. A Deer Mouse (Autumn, 2007)
4. The Woods Of Boulter
5. The November War
6. Eulogy For A Bat
7. Evolution
Forward
This is my second cyber compilation. The first one, which is called, ‘The Cathedral Of The Eternal Blue Sky,’ exists in cyber space in a much more rudimentary fashion and contains almost all of my poems that had been published up to a certain date. This second endeavour features poems that I’ve written about wildlife. Of course, I’d love to see the collection published in book form, with gorgeous illustrations and binding, but at least one book publisher has told me that previously published poems are of no interest to someone such as him. All of the poems included here have already appeared in newspapers, a magazine, and/or on-line. (I’ll mention that I do retain the copyright to all of my work.)
Seven Poems About Wild Things
by Kathy Figueroa
1.
Like A Starry Night
I moved a piece of wood
While cleaning under a tree
And a small patch of pale speckles
In the black earth, did I see
Intrigued, I leaned closer
To see what I had found
Because speckles that look like freckles
Are not common on the ground
I thought I’d been alone
As I worked in my yard
But what I did discern
Caught me quite off-guard
There, in the damp, dark shade
Under a tree of green
Was the most dapper little lizard
That I’d ever seen
Quiet and unassuming
It was tastefully attired in black
With a constellation of spots, like stars
Arrayed across it’s back
Careful not to disturb it
I continued to work outside
But thought, “It must be very shy
That’s why it likes to hide”
“What’s the lizard’s name?” I asked
The next time I went to town
“We don’t know what it’s called,” people replied
“But we’ve seen ’em around”
So, for many months the mystery
Of the creature’s name did not unfold
And the tale of the little lizard
Almost wasn’t told
But then, by chance, a story
In a newspaper caught my eye
About Ontario critters
In need of protection
Species in danger, that might die
And there, pictured in full colour
But dressed in black
And silvery white
Was the little lizard
That looked like a starry night
Sometimes I’m wrong and
At times, I’m right
If I may speak with total candor
When I read that article I realized
The lizard was probably..
A Jefferson Salamander!
Part II
In times of old, salamanders
Were thought to live
In fire and flame
But here, in Hastings County
There’s a different terrain
The dapper little amphibian
With the heart so brave and bold
Crawls across the snow and ice
It doesn’t fear the cold
It lives near deciduous forests
By ponds of melted snow
For, in late March, to water
To lay eggs it’ll go
If you see this salamander
Which is a sight so rare
Be sure not to harm it
Treat it with special care
We are all connected
On this big rock out in space
If salamanders disappear today
Tomorrow it could be
The human race
2.
Cormorant (Spring, 2008)
Cormorant, oh Cormorant
Lowly, dejected, forlorn
Do not pause to question
Why you were born
Let not a tear fall from your eye
For you were made to soar
In the cathedral
Of the Eternal Blue Sky
Oh Cormorant, Double Crested Cormorant
Target of the Ontario government’s ire
What have you done
To deserve such wrath
And a fate so dire?
Why do they seek to blast you
Off the face of this earth?
They’re obviously not aware
Of your true worth
The guano (bird poop)
Cormorants leave behind
Is, in certain countries, mined
For example, in Chile and Peru
An industry flourishes around
Cormorant doo doo
The guano is bagged and then sold
Because, as fertilizer
It’s like white gold
Some fish eating men
Claim the cormorant
Is a fish eating machine
That is causing Canadian sport fishermen
To either lay awake at night losing sleep
Or have a bad dream about
This alleged… “Hoover”…of the deep
Do they know that, in China, it’s a fact
The cormorant is actually tamed and trained
To catch fish and bring them back?
Bayan Hangai, Patron
Of the natural environment
Protector of plants and creatures
All that roam, crawl, swim and fly
Please don’t let the cormorant,
Through lack of public education
Or because of callous cruelty
In a hail of bullets, die
St. Francis of Assisi
Who loved all animals
And would speak to the birds
Hear this silent plea
Let the cormorants know these words:
That some pray to save them
From a wanton, savage kill
Like in an Ontario public park
Near Brighton
Called, “Presqu’ile”
Please stave off
The Ontario government’s
Destructive will
And any M.P.P.’s
“Death to cormorants”
Private Member’s Bill
In this world there’s much that’s wrong
War, suffering, poverty and despair
Maybe some of those
Bird hating women and men
Could focus some positive energy there
Peace.
3.
A Deer Mouse
I needed a fork
So I opened the drawer
It was full of dry dog food
And it wasn’t, before
As I hauled an old sofa
Out the door
A trail of cat chow
Was left on the floor
Thought I’d make a cup
Of my favourite brew
Turned the coffee maker on
But not a drop dripped through
Of this situation
I didn’t know what to make
So I emptied the machine
And then gave it a shake
Got the jitters and was
Almost all thumbs
When out poured a pile
Of bread crumbs
Things were getting weird
And kind of hard to ignore
Three: a dog, a cat, and I lived here
But now, were there four?
Indisputably strange things
Were going on in this house
And I began to suspect
I had… a mouse
The evidence indicated
No ordinary rodent, however
It would have to be tirelessly
Industrious and clever
Could it be a… Deer Mouse?
Oops, I’d better not
Spread the word around
Or I’ll have a deer hunter here
With his deer hunting hound…
4.
The Woods Of Boulter
an eco story in the form of a poem
Deep in the woods of Boulter
Lived a woman who loved deer
They’d stroll to her log house
And she liked to see them near
In that forest kingdom
Which was as wild as could be seen
All creatures were very happy
Because that kind soul was their queen
Each day, by her window
She would sit and wait
For her white tailed friends
To step up to the gate
By her fenced in garden
The deer would stop for lunch
She’d graciously serve leafy greens
Which they loved to munch
Thus, she came to know them
And soon they grew quite tame
So it wasn’t very long ’til
Each deer had a name
There was Dorothy and Daisy
Rudolph and Dawn
Then, one day, a mama deer
Brought Hope, her fawn
Hope looked around in wonder
As her proud mama stood guard
And the woman went to greet them
Outside in the yard
This is when the story
Really has its start
For it was then that something sad
Broke that kind soul’s heart
To the woods of Boulter
Came people, each with a gun
Saying, “We’re gonna go hunting
And have us some fun”
In Carlow/Mayo Township
On that morning cold and bright
The hunters did something
That wasn’t honourable or right
At the edge of her yard
Near the woman’s home
They set loose their hunting dogs
To run and to roam
They knew that her land
Was private property
It was clearly marked
“No Hunting, No Trespassing”
For everyone to see
But the hunters had a plan
A scheme, a grand design
They said, “Well, our deer hounds can’t read
A No Hunting, No Trespassing sign”
With noses trained to track
The dogs soon picked up a scent
And straight through the trees
To the woman’s home they went
The faces of the hunters
Twisted into smirks
As they whispered
“Look! Our little plan works!”
Then they watched
And waited, full of glee
For the dogs to chase the deer
And the deer to flee
There was silence in the forest
When the birds were stilled
By frenzied howls of hounds
Savage and thrilled
The eerie quiet was in direct contrast
To the sudden sound
Of a shotgun blast
When the mother deer was killed
Deep in the woods of Boulter
Is Ontario’s secret shame
Because in the woods of Boulter
Poaching is a game
Sometimes they use a Walker Hound
Often they’ll use a Beagle
But whatever dog they choose
Local law won’t consider it illegal
Because of unclear regulations
Deer hounds are not barred
They’re allowed to chase a deer
Right out of your back yard
In this great big country
Almost everywhere you go
Off leash dogs can’t be
Used to chase or ‘drive’ deer
But they can in Hastings County, Ontario
When people are persecuted
By laws that are unfair
They may enter a church
And claim ‘sanctuary’ there
But where can wild animals run
When unleashed dogs relentlessly pursue?
If they are hunted, poached and killed
Will they only survive in a zoo?
When the hunting dogs entered her yard
And chased the deer about
In front of the woman’s eyes
And the shot rang out
She came to realize
That a doubt does not remain
The ‘off leash laws’ for hunting
Must be changed to be humane
We can make this story
Have a happy resolution
By making our voices heard
And suggesting this solution:
If a hunter wants to use a hound
To locate and ‘drive’ big game
It’s only fair that the dog
Be kept securely on a chain
In years past I’ve voted Liberal
Conservative, Rhinoceros and N.D.P.
At the next election
The political party that
Vows to ban the wretched practice
Of letting unleashed dogs chase deer
Will get a vote from me
Though the woman from Boulter
Is no longer with us
Her spirit is always near
In the woods of Boulter
Watching over the deer
5.
The November War
Huddled together at the side of the road
They were refugees in flight
Frozen for a moment, for all time
In the glare of the the bright headlight
Four, leaning against each other
Paused, on their desperate run
As they sought shelter
From the dog and the gun
Trepidation and sheer terror
Could be seen in their eyes
And that awful knowledge
Of how their kind dies
Their days were numbered
Maybe hours remained
Not much more
As they tried to escape
The November war
Could they sleep or even rest?
Would they have the strength to fight?
Or would their legs fail
From exhaustion and fright?
If only there was somewhere to stay
By a house, or on a farm
A shelter, refuge or sanctuary
Where they’d be spared from harm
But, anywhere they hid
Unleashed dogs would find them
And, immediately, give chase
To the waiting guns of men
Who lacked mercy and grace
Did they silently cry out to humankind
As, near mens’ homes, they stood
And plead to be allowed to return
To their place in the wild wood?
Do they face the houses of men
Like men turn their faces to the sky
To ask a higher power
For mercy and a reason why
They must endure such times
Of misery and strife?
And do they ask that higher power
To spare a humble life?
An elderly friend told me a story
About her history
She and her family were captured
Long ago, in another country
They were moved to an enclosure
With an open gate
But no one ventured out
Because they knew what lay in wait
Though it was Christmas Eve
No one dared to run
Because the men were waiting
With the dog and the gun
When I saw those frightened deer
That evening so dark and cold
I remembered my friend
And the story she told
Those images have never left me
So, now, I write this poem
And hope one day
All inhabitants of Earth
Will share, in peace
This planet we call home
6.
Eulogy For A Bat
A wisp of dusk, personified
Or should I say, ‘animalified’
It grieves me, Bat
That you have died
A blight wracked your tiny body
Slight and brown
Stopped your flight
And struck you down
I wondered why
Not long ago
When the ground
Was cloaked with snow
As I looked outside
Late at night
I saw you swoop by
The electric light
“What could it possibly
Find to eat, now?”
Was on my mind
How could a bug
It hope to find
When all was frozen
White and still
I know now, Bat
That you were ill
In the shelter where
You were housed
To winters chill
You were roused
Then, in search of food
You left the safety
Of your home
Because of a plague called
‘White Nose Syndrome’
This pestilential disease
Caused you to awaken
..Then starve.. then freeze..
So, sadly, your life was taken
You had great worth
In the grand scheme of things
As you flew over this earth
With fragile wings
Humans with no sense
Often like to say
That they are at the top
Of the food chain
Forgetting that black flies
And mosquitoes
Require warm blood to drain
And that, in this land
It’s not unknown
For a person
To die of exposure
When lost in
The woods, alone
Should the word ‘exposure’
Need to be explained
It can mean that the person died
Because too much blood was drained
So a bat is an answer
To a prayer for respite
And a defense
From the attack, from the bite
Of a blood hungry (possibly
West Nile Disease carrying) parasite
Though some folks
Might express fear if their path
With this creature, connects
It’s good to remember that
In spring and summer
A bat can devour
From half to its entire
Body weight in insects
This critter should never be hurt
Or, by human hand, rendered dead
A bat should always be
Left alone, instead
So it can flourish and thrive
Because a bat is worth
Far more than gold, alive
One thing I know that could
Soon become very clear
Is that people
Will surely miss a bat
If bugs proliferate
And bats are no longer here
So Little Brown Bat
Myotis Lucifugus
Your good work I
Hereby, commend
And let it be known that
To humans and, indeed, to all
Warm blooded creatures
You were a friend
7.
Evolution
Long ago, a dinosaur
A prisoner, by gravity bound
With lumbering, heavy steps
Did plod across the ground
And it crushed all in its path
With an earth shaking tread
Unlike a bird that flies
In the blue sky, overhead
Maybe this massive creature
When mired in the
Black mud of a swamp
Dreamed of being able
To frolic and romp
Perhaps this behemoth
So long ago, alive
Wished it were more agile
That it could soar and dive
Maybe in its heart
A hidden hope held sway
That it could change
And be different some day
Perhaps its wish was granted
Implausible as this might sound
It’s got to do with something
Archaeologists have found
This might seem far fetched
Or maybe even absurd
But recent discoveries have shown
A dinosaur evolved into a bird
How long the process took
They can’t, with accuracy, say
But I guess a need to fly
Made a dinosaur evolve that way
For anyone who is interested, here’s a link to a ready-to-print version of, ‘Seven Poems About Wild Things.’ http://www.bancroftthisweek.com/Blogs/PrintBlog.aspx?BlogID=9574
Dragons And Dreamers: Three Poems
a compilation of verse
by Kathy Figueroa
Bancroft, Ontario, Canada
2011
All of the poems in this collection were first published in The Bancroft Times newspaper in 2010 and early 2011. ‘The Snow Dragon,’ appeared as a three part series in the December, 2010, issues of The Bancroft Times.
Index
Preface: Pink Sky (2011)
1. If Your Thoughts Drift
2. The Great Gallery Of Canadian Art
3. The Snow Dragon: A Long Poem In Three Parts
The Snow Dragon, Part One
The Snow Dragon, Part Two
The Snow Dragon, Part Three
Preface
Pink Sky (2011)
Pink sky
Pure snow
Fluffy white crystals
Blanket the ground
Silence reigns
All around
During this time
Of rebirth
If only this peace
Could cover the Earth
Dragons And Dreamers: Three Poems
by Kathy Figueroa
1.
If Your Thoughts Drift
If your thoughts drift
To dragons and
Wizards and things
Like enchanted forests
And magic rings
Or a flying horse
With feathered wings
That can run like the wind
And then soar…
If you sit on a rock
Sometimes and stare
At the top of a hill
That looks awfully bare
And you think it
Would look better
With a castle there
Otherwise the view
Is just a bore…
If you’re weary of
Watching leaves move
In the breeze
And you find that
You’re having fantasies
About seeing
A tyrannosaur
Emerge from the trees
And then roar…
Well, it can be said
With certainty
That you have
Imagination
And creativity
Maybe even
Artistic ability
So why not
Express yourself?
Because that’s what
Art is for…
2.
The Great Gallery Of Canadian Art
The great gallery of Canadian art
Is vast and unenclosed
Its pillars are the trees
That support the sky
Where the north wind
Swirls and blows
The sun, by day
The moon and stars, at night
Illuminate its shows
From the grandeur
Of a mountain peak
To the beauty of a wild rose
Many have traversed
That exhibition hall
Such as Emily Carr
And the Group of Seven
They’ve shown to all
Near and far
Their visions of
A wilderness Heaven
Sometimes, as a feature
In that gallery
There appears a special creature
Fabulous to see
Like the mighty Thunderbird
That shoots lightening
From its eyes
And, with every
Beat of its wings
Creates thunder
As it flies
Crouching, soaring
Writhing, roaring
Ripping the air
And exhaling flames
So exist a legacy
Of the dinosaurs
Whose bones lie
On the concourse
Of the Canadian plains
Painted by artist, John Howe
Who illustrated Tolkien’s trilogy
‘The Lord of the Rings’
And ‘The Hobbit’
A story about Bilbo Baggins
The great gallery of Canadian art
Has a new collection, now
Featuring the realm of… Dragons
3.
The Snow Dragon: A Long Poem In Three Parts
The Snow Dragon, Part One
The days grew short
The cold grew nigh
And the air was
Rife with chill
The Earth’s retort
Was to longingly sigh
And the wind swept
Down from the hill
Colder, yet
And colder, still
Grew the clasp
Of the Season’s embrace
And the great, grinding
Wheel Of Time
Turned to show
A sombre face
Gone were the greens
Of summer and spring
Gone, the merry flowers
Tame and wild
Quiet lay gardens
Where no creature stirred
Forsaken.. by cold, defiled
The Sun, source of light
And creator of days
That were luxuriantly
Long, warm and clear
Along with the blue skies
Almost seemed
To have fled
Which caused dread
Comprised of
A particular fear:
“If there’s not enough sun
To keep this area
Warm and bright
..Then the Snow Dragon
Will soon appear”
The Snow Dragon, Part Two
Legends say
That, long ago
The last dragon
Had been slain
But now it’s whispered
In the Canadian North
“A dragon roams
…Again”
When the sky
Is a dark void
Vast and deep
And all wild creatures
Are asleep
Then, from the Arctic
Bursts a raging gale
That rises with
An unearthly wail
And moves across
The frozen land
Like the sweep of
A Titan’s hand
But the turbulence
Is really the lashing
Of a mighty tail
And the sound
Is the howl
..Of the Snow Dragon
As it starts to prowl…
Skeptics exist, everywhere
And some have been known
To openly declare:
“Though supposed evidence
That the Snow Dragon
Traversed this area
Has abounded
We can neither prove
Nor disprove
That reports
Of its existence
Are either founded
Or unfounded
If we venture to surmise
That this creature’s
Existence is real
Based upon
Empirical observation
We, presently, feel
That, to date, perhaps
This Snow Dragon’s
Most notable feature
Is that it’s a most shy
Retiring and
..Elusive creature”
The Snow Dragon, Part Three
‘By Grace’
It’s said that
People are saved
But this also lets
Some people see
It’s Grace that lets folks
Have visions of realms
Of magic and mystery
Thus, artists, writers
And poets exist
As architects of dreams
They know that
The everyday world
Isn’t always as it seems
Hence, those who
Only accept truth
From a scientist’s lips
Believe the following
About a lunar eclipse:
That the Earth
Casts a shadow
On the smaller
Circling sphere
And, at other notions
They’ll likely scoff or jeer
But weary disbelievers
Might one day ‘whistle
A different tune’
(If, by tedious banality
They’re not driven
To complete ruin)
When they discover that
A lunar eclipse is really
The Snow Dragon’s shadow
Cast on the moon
And the showers
Of shooting stars
That pierce the
Winter night skies
Are really sparkles falling
From the Snow Dragon’s eyes
When it turns its gaze
To the mortals, below
And the land it has covered
With crystals of snow
During the winter solstice on December 21st, 2010, a complete lunar eclipse of a full moon occurred. This very rare event was the first one to take place in 372 years.
Here’s a link to a ready-to-print version of, ‘Dragons And Dreamers: Three Poems.’ http://www.bancroftthisweek.com/Blogs/PrintBlog.aspx?BlogID=9970
Six Poems About Gardens And Homes
a compilation of verse
by Kathy Figueroa
Bancroft, Ontario, Canada
2011
These poems were first published in The Bancroft Times newspaper.
Index
Preface: Rhymosaurus
1. Springtime In Paudash
2. Furthermore, I Am A Green Canadian
3. No Money? No Problem!
4. Junque Maximus
5. Trees (Ontario, Canada)
6. Jerusalem Daylily
Preface
Rhymosaurus
I’m aware that some folks
Don’t like rhyming verse
That it makes some people tense
And others groan and curse
Some just plain can’t bear it
And call a word doctor
..Or word hearse
They don’t think there’s anything
That could be much worse
So, hurray for all who say
Any style is okay
And fit to be rendered
With paper and pen
I think of them now
As I sit with a smile
And wrangle a rhyme
… Again
Six Poems About Gardens And Homes
by Kathy Figueroa
1.
Springtime In Paudash
Spring hath graced the land
With a golden hue
Winter’s ice and snow hath given way
To gentle dew
Bright flowers unfurl and bees do hum
As I roam about in delirium
Oh, mighty God
Oh, Mother Earth
Your creation is esteemed
Above all worth
You are so infinitely wondrous
Magnificent and wise
But tell me: Why black flies?
Two billion wings doth beat as one
As a ghastly shadow darkens the sun
The spectre of frogs and locusts
Falling from the skies
Would be a relief
Compared to a billion black flies
Bubonic plague infected rats
Swarms of hungry, rabid bats
Hornets, slugs and buzzing gnats
Won’t suck your blood until you die
Like the flying piranha
Known as, “Black Fly”
Oh, woe to you, foolish mortal
Who would venture through
An open portal
To mow the lawn
Or walk the dog
‘Tis better, right now
To be a frog
2.
Furthermore, I Am A Green Canadian
If I had an Olympic torch
I’d keep it out by my back porch
Of course, that would be
When all the games were done
And all the medals had been won
‘Cause I’m resourceful, that is true
So I’d like a torch
When the games are through
I’m not cheap… I’m frugal
Some folks might know what I mean
I am Canadian… and I am green
I’d reuse that torch and hoist it high
So it would light the nighttime sky
And I’d be more than ready
When I heard that cry
Aaoo.. aaooOOoo… aaaoooOOOOO…..
You see, the wolf has left me no choice
When it raises that lupine voice
Of lustful, or is it prandial, longing
Up on the hill
And gives my poor old dog a chill
So, if I had a recycled Olympic torch
I would give that wolf a scorch
And all its buddies
In its wolf clique, too
And my yard, they would rue
The End
(With a tip of the hat to Duke Redbird who wrote a poem called, ‘I Am A Canadian
back in the 1970s, before that famous beer commercial was made.)
3.
No Money? No Problem!
I need a vacation
But don’t have a car
Don’t have much money
So I can’t travel far
Once upon a time
I made a good buck
But things can happen
That change your luck
So, with the sunlight streaming
Through the window pane
Instead of my loss
I’ll think of my gain
I’ll remember it’s good to be here
In my big easy chair
‘Cause sometimes it’s
Not always comfortable
In that world, out there
If, at faraway places
I still want to look
I’ll just stick my nose
In a travel book
I’ll save my few dollars
To pay my bills down
If I want to feel like a tourist
I’ll wear my sunglasses
When I go shopping, downtown
Maybe I’ll stop at a restaurant
To see what they’re charging for food
Then go home and make lunch
And feel in a good mood
But not before I pick up a bottle
Of suntan lotion
(If the price is within reach)
Because the fragrance
Reminds me of the ocean
And lounging on the beach
Yes, I can lounge
In my big easy chair
With no worries about sunburn
Or what swimsuit to wear
No money? No problem!
Where there’s a will there’s a way
Anyone can have a holiday
And the beauty of it is
You don’t even have to leave home
So, on that note, I’ll end this poem
4.
Junque Maximus
There’s a Higher Power
That’s much greater than me
To which I now turn
And make this plea:
‘Please give me the strength
To live clutter free’
Circumstance has been kind
Now, I have too much stuff
If I don’t declutter
It’s going to be rough
Deciding what to clear out
Will be really tough
But, I’ll count my blessings
That I’ve got more than enough
Guess I’ll get some boxes
And just sort ruthlessly
So my home and garage
Finally look orderly
And not like a dusty museum
Or ‘Ripley’s Believe It Or Not’
‘Cause that’s how much
Fine junque that I’ve got
Thrift shops are so tempting
Their allure is like a siren’s call
Garage sales exert magnetism
I’m helpless to resist at all
And the auction is like Nirvana
For treasures, fine and rare
Though I have tried
I can’t stay away from there
I must, must, must divest
I’ll only keep some
And get rid of the rest
I’ll employ visualization
To psychologically prepare myself
And imagine going
To the cupboard
And clearing a shelf
I’ll dust and arrange
And then.. oh, no..
This ploy isn’t working
That I can see
Because I just can’t part with
Those fancy pots for tea
Maybe with the closet
I’ll have better luck
It should be easy
To find something
To donate or chuck
Clothes two sizes too small
Are still folded with care
But..oh, no..
One day I might need
Something smaller to wear
Or maybe that apparel
Could just use a bit of alteration
So, for cleaning out the closet
I feel hesitation
Yes, it’s a major challenge
I’ll have to meet
If I want my house
To look spacious and neat
But, maybe, one day
That work will be done
I’ll consider this poem
To be.. Step One
5.
Trees (Ontario, Canada)
a tree hugger poem from the southern edge of the Boreal Forest
The hills, there, were brown and dry
There were no plants or trees
Only paths that were walked by man
For a thousand centuries
And though the blue Mediterranean
Was edged with pure white sand
Never did I feel at ease
In that distant land
Ancient and grand cities
Bore testament to the history of humankind
But I felt apprehension
For it was a barren world, enshrined
In Paris and Milan
Places, throughout the world, renowned
I looked past each stone and concrete corner
But not one tree could be found
There were no elegant sprays of green
On graceful branches, upheld
For, lost from memory, in the distant past
The last trees had been felled
Replaced with great buildings
Constructs and statues, fine
But all that man can create
Can’t compare to Nature’s design
Here, in beautiful Ontario
Where many rivers flow
Are towering pine
Tamarack, majestic birch
Spruce and graceful willow
Balsam fir, cedar, sumac
And poplar, with boughs
That shimmer in the breeze
This is why I love my home best
It’s the land of many trees
6.
Jerusalem Daylily
a poem for daylily fanatics
‘Jerusalem,’ I call thee
Oh, splendid flower
With countenance bright
A jewel of God’s creation
Set on Earth for our delight
When an example of
God’s love was chosen
To give people hope
And banish despair
It was of you Jesus spoke
Oh, lovely flower, most fair
When I behold you
Clothed in raiment, fine
I know that you
Beautiful Daylily
Are a creation of the Divine
This poem was inspired by discovering a lovely peach coloured double blossom daylily seedling reblooming Saturday, September 4th, 2010. It was also inspired by the line, “Behold the lilies of the field,” from, ‘The Sermon On The Mount,’ and by the poem, ‘Jerusalem,’ by William Blake.
If anyone would like a copy of this collection, this is a link to a ready-to-print version of, ‘Six Poems About Gardens And Homes.’ http://www.bancroftthisweek.com/blogs/PrintBlog.aspx?BlogID=9607
This poem is about a situation that should change:
The Fiend Of Filmdom
a story in the form of a poem
by Kathy Figueroa
Though filmdom is rife
With monsters and many
An otherworldly beast
Some of the most
Evil and heinous
Are ones you’d
Suspect the least
Most people who’ve
Been to a movie theatre
Have seen monsters
Projected on the silver screen
But, sometimes
Working in the film industry
There are people
Who are just as mean
They can blend into a crowd
And look much like you or I
But, there, the similarities end
And here’s a story why…
There’s a class
Of unscrupulous fiends
Who try to get ahead
Using any means
They’ll lie, cheat, steal
And without conscience
Commit fraud…
To them, being underhanded
Is quite normal
..Not repugnant or odd
They prey upon others
Who are honest
People who have
Worked very hard for gain
They commit crimes
That are so despicable
Their victims can
Nearly go insane..
Their actions
Can be vicious
Dirty, devious and cruel
These people amply
Demonstrate that
They don’t believe in
The Golden Rule
..Which states that you
Do unto others
As you would like people
To treat you in return..
No, these fiends
Will do anything
To deceive and cheat you
To get what isn’t theirs
Things they didn’t earn
They seem to be drawn
To positions of power
Often catching
Honest people unaware
Behind the scenes
They don’t hesitate
To break all the rules
And appear to believe
That to tell any lie is fair
They’ll often seek
Positions of authority
Because, then, it’s easier
To push people around
Where ever there’s money
Power and fame
These predators can be found
They look normal
On the outside
As they charm people
…So deceptively
..Waiting, always waiting
For that chance to pounce..
To get something
They don’t deserve
..For free…
If in danger of being caught
They just deny, deny and deny
Then look you in the eye
And lie and lie and lie…
They can smile charmingly
Then mock you
Sometimes they’ll laugh
Right in your face
As they use fraud
To propel themselves
On the road of success
Because it moves them
At a lightning fast pace
With the money and prestige
That these predators
So ruthlessly accrue
They seem to think
They can get away
With anything
That there’s nothing
They can’t do
They carefully curry favour
And use influence
For them, crime seems to pay
With laughter and mockery
One once implied
‘Look! She’s so poor, now
She can’t even afford a lawyer!
Why doesn’t she just go away?’
But, the Canadian Wall of Infamy
Has many a fraudster’s name
..Because many
Were eventually caught
When they got sloppy
At their game
You have to consider
That some really
Can’t be too bright
To think that no one would
Eventually find out
That they pulled a scam
..That they’re a sham
And, on society
They’re a blight
Yes, most people get ahead
With hard work
And, occasionally
There’s an element
Of good luck
But then there are
Some fiendish people
Who will say
And do anything
To make a crooked buck
Which brings us to
The Fiend of Filmdom
This is a Canadian
Cautionary tale..
It’s the story of a fraudster
Who lives the high life
But who really should go to jail
It’s in the best interest
Of the public
To make this story
Known far and wide
About what the fiendish man
And his accomplice did
..And how he monstrously lied
How he behaved dishonestly
So he could accumulate
Fabulous power and wealth
How he destroyed
People’s film careers
As he committed crimes
By stealth…
Many people think he’s brilliant
And regard him with
Adoration and awe
But what many people
Don’t know is
How he broke Canadian
And, possibly, foreign law
Multitudes thought he
Possessed a talent
That appeared almost limitless
That’s how it seems
Feted and celebrated
He was the toast of the town
His life became
The stuff of dreams
He attended all the big parties
The media trumpeted
His successes frequently
Wherever power
And film money converged
That’s where he would be
Though, physically
A tiny man
He became a giant
In people’s eyes
But what covert things
He did to achieve
The look of success
They didn’t know or realize
In the world of film
Many people strive
To forge a good career
And, before success
Is attained they
Often have to struggle
Year after year
Canadians support culture
And have funded
Arts councils
All across the land
So that artists, writers
And filmmakers
Can apply for a grant
To get a financial
Helping hand
Every year
To these arts councils
A multitude of people apply
Enthusiastically they
Submit applications
With their hopes up high
Along with the paperwork
They have to include
Samples of their art
And into their
Carefully crafted work
They often pour a large part
Of their heart
Artists are required to
Submit photographs
Of the art they’ve created
In many different ways
And people who make
Dramatic films
Have to include copies
Of their screenplays
Much effort goes
Into creating a screenplay
Which is also called
A ‘film script’ and an
‘Intellectual property’
So you can’t just use
Someone else’s work and
Make a film from it, for free
Creating an original script
Requires a lot of talent
And a lot of time
That’s why, in Canada
‘Intellectual property
Copyright infringement’
Sometimes called, ‘plagiarism’
Is considered a federal offense
In this country, it’s a crime
For a grant application
And each film
Business transaction
Like production financing
Distribution or a sale
Filmmakers have to declare that
They have the legal right
To use that intellectual property
Or, theoretically
They could be sued
Or fined, or even end up
Trying to get bail
Researching, drafting, and
Revising a feature length
Movie script
Can take months and
Sometimes, even years
So, just try to envision
What it would be like
If a situation, such as
The following one, appears
You happen to discover
A newspaper movie review
About a film that has
Just made its public debut
And the parts of the movie
That are highlighted for praise
Appear to be plagiarized
From your work
In various ways
Imagine the shock
Horror and sense of ruination
When you discover that
From your feature length script
Someone appears to have
Seriously infringed your intellectual
Property copyright and made
An ..’unauthorized adaptation’
And then you come
To the realization
That the point of
Access to your work
Appears to have been
Your arts council
Film production
Grant application
Thematic, dramatic
And structural similarities….
Locations like the strip club
Pet shop and field
Characters such as
The stripper, father
Daughter, gay guy
Scripted visual effects
The soundtrack was to include
A song by Leonard Cohen
Character names: Harold and Kelly
Almost too many similarities to list
Imagine if it appeared
That he took your
‘Director’s shooting script’
Which is a ‘blueprint’ for a movie
And just tried to
..Add his own ‘twist’
The fiend must’ve thought
That the screenplay
Was exotic, a real score
And along with infringing the
Intellectual property copyright
Of the screenplay
He did even more
You wouldn’t think that
As far as being worse
It could ever
Get much more so
But then you find out
That he even plagiarized
Your poster art
…Of a woman’s torso
And how would you feel
If a police officer
Investigated the situation with
The plagiarized poster art
But was told it was created
By a company in France
A country outside of
The R.C.M.P.’s jurisdiction
Then, sometime later
A film person wrote in a book
That the guy always creates
His own poster art
Which means that
What was told to
The R.C.M.P. was
Apparently, fiction
Because it appears that
He massively cheated
All the prestigious
Film festival prizes
Should be taken away
Including the multithousand dollar
Award he received for
‘The best original screenplay’
It was through
Fraud and dishonesty
That all those film
Awards were won
So a person like that
Should be arrested
Charged and then
Go to jail
For all the terrible
Things he’s done
He appeared
Wildly successful
But he wasn’t really
Among the best
He operated on
The wrong side of the law
That’s why he always
Looked better than the rest
It hurts the Canadian film industry
When the screenplays of
Young, struggling filmmakers
Are plagiarized and
Produced by fiends with
A lust for power
Wealth and fame
Destroying the dreams
And careers of others
Who are just starting out
Is a very dirty game
The career of the victim
Can be devastated
And never be the same
While the plagiarist
Can go on to win
Many prestigious Canadian
And foreign film awards
And receive international acclaim
‘Infringing’ the intellectual
Property copyright’ of others
Is, itself a monstrous deed
But the fact that
The fiend’s accomplice
Worked as a public servant
In the film department
Of an Ontario government
Funded arts council
Means that it’s with
Great caution that
All new filmmakers
Who apply for grants
Should proceed
His accomplice also
Behaved like a fiend
But one of a different stripe
She had access to all
The grant application material
And, it appears, information
Was easy to …swipe
There are rules
About confidentiality
And privacy that
All public servants
All government employees
Have to abide by and heed
But it appears
That the fiendess
Just ignored them
Because of her
Career aspirations
And greed
It appears that she passed
The intellectual property
To her partner, who
Was actually her spouse
And they used it
To make a film
Which made them
Very famous and rich
So they could afford
Expensive things
Including a very big house
After the aspiring filmmaker
Who wrote the screenplay
And submitted
The grant application
Was attacked
On the street one night
And sustained injuries
That were very severe
She contacted the
Film department of the
Arts council so that
They knew of her state
This included
The Fiend’s spouse
That’s very clear
In school, students aren’t taught
To copy other people’s work
And then call it their own
But, in the business of film
It’s a skill that some people hone
Instead of being congratulated
And given awards
A student would get
A failing grade
Plagiarism by public officials
Can cost them their job
But in the movie business
That’s how some careers
Have been made
Perhaps, in the
Darkest depths of Hell
There’s an obscure pit
That’s infinitely
Uncomfortable and deep
And, perhaps, eventually
That’s the reward
That the Fiend of Filmdom
And his accomplice
Will ultimately reap
When stripped of the awards
And prestigious honours
That the Fiend
Did so fraudulently claim
It’s certain to torment
Someone with
An ego like that
When no one
Remembers his name
In the annals of
Canadian film lore
You’ll find this horror story
About how the Fiend of Filmdom
Infringed the ‘intellectual
Property copyright’
Of someone else’s work
Called it his own
And got undeserved wealth
Fame and glory
Every month, up here in Bancroft, Ontario, we hold an open mic event. Musicians, poets, storytellers, comedians, dancers – all people involved with the performing arts – are invited to take a turn on stage. Since 2006, I’ve been one of the main organizers of this event and frequently read my poetry there. Here’s a link to a Facebook site that I created for it, where you can get more info about what we do. (If the link doesn’t work, just do an Internet search for, ‘Chameleon’s Cove.’) https://www.facebook.com/pages/Chameleons-Cove/100555966669540
For the, ‘100 Thousand Poets For Change,’ event we’ll hold our open mic night on Saturday, September 24th, instead Friday, September 30th. I’m also in the process of making arrangements to have poems from around the world displayed at the public library and the art gallery, for at least a week, prior to the event. There will probably be a poetry reading at the library on Saturday morning, also.
Earlier, on July 8th, I posted a link, here, to the, ‘100 Thousand Poets For Change: Bancroft, Ontario, Canada,’ Facebook, ‘Open Group.’ I’ve just realized that the link isn’t working, so I’m posting another one, now. If, for some reason, it turns out that this one doesn’t work, either, it would be possible to locate the group by doing a Facebook search for the name. https://www.facebook.com/groups/164740476914270
Good news! I’ve just made arrangements to hold a poetry reading at the Bancroft Public Library, between 12:30 p.m. and 2:30 p.m., on Saturday, September 24th. Also, I’ve gotten the ‘okay’ to put a variety of poems, from around the world, on display starting at the beginning of next month. Because Bancroft will be officially celebrating its 150th birthday in August, the first poetry to be displayed will include poems that were written by earlier inhabitants of this area.
I’m now welcoming submissions of poetry that’s suitable for viewing by people of all ages, including children, which will be put on display at the Bancroft Public Library. I’d also like to include a copy of each poem, that’s displayed, in a booklet to be given to the library. If you have a poem, or two, that you’d like to share, please contact me either by Facebook message, or by e-mail at: fancydaylilies@gmail.com Thanks!