Poetry of and about Niagara Falls & the Niagara River – the waterfalls, the city, the history, the stunters, and everything else Niagara
(a children’s poem)
The forests tall
The waterfall
The fish and birds
The buffalo herds —
This wilderness, God bless!
Our freedom’s birth
The men of worth
The fertile soil
The strength to toil —
This little town, God bless!
The ocean’s tide
The prairies wide
The mountain heights
The northern lights —
This Canada, God bless!
Source: The Author, 2001
(a children’s poem)
Wild white water is
Boil, cascade
Roil, cannonade
Crash, flume
Splash, spume
Drench, glide
Stench, slide
Gush, leap
Rush, sweep
Lunge, pollution
Plunge, solution
Outpour, overflow
Uproar, undertow
Turbulence, spray
Violence, ricochet
Stream, swirl
Steam, whirl
Penned power
Source: The Author, 2001.
friday fireworks
(a children’s poem)
Each Friday night, fireworks
Light the Falls and the park,
All through the summer months,
After ten, when it’s dark.
As we weave through the crowd
And descend on Clifton Hill,
The traffic is noisy,
Tourists’ voices are shrill.
We stop at the corner
Till the light turns from red;
Hike past the lily pond,
Skirt a long flower bed.
A battery of blasts,
An explosion of stars,
Greet the thrilling throng
Mid massed buses and cars.
There are loud OH!s and AH!s —
Children’s cries of delight;
As huge flaming flowers,
Bloom above in the night.
Gold and silver sparks shoot —
Reds… blues… dart at angles,
Then shower the gorge with
A riot of spangles.
One last bang! The show ends!
There’s applause, a wild cheer,
Then a child’s voice exclaims,
The best fireworks this year!
Source: The author, 2002.
Long live the All Day Breakfast diner
that makes this world of rainy days finer! —
The coffee cup, the stirring spoon
mixing sugar & cream, first sip soon
And then– all things better —
no matter the weather, a blessing or a curse
beautiful or ugly, its all the same universe.
The constant hustle streams by on sidewalk while
the serene sips inside produce an effortless smile
We owe it to ourselves
to put the tools down for a minute
& turn our backs on the machine, forget it.
Sip a coffee in a booth, forget seeking truth,
fall silent in peace, let it all be.
Have a second, third , a fourth cup of coffee
there’s no hurry, nowhere to go, nowhere to be.
The galaxy wheels overhead in perfect harmony
with all there is, even as you sit
enjoying yr own company
at the All Day Breakfast diner, tell me
what could be finer?
Source: The Author, 2017
little European
Herman Hesse
Maybe Berlin
where Jazz
plays in the club
and the young
women sitting
across from me
conjure visions
of love sweet love
sweetly the piano
plays me into reverie
once I dreamed
this place
once I dreamed
I was Hemingway
shucking oysters
on the Seine
with my pen
and poor finances
doing one of life’s
finer romances
to be in on a conversation
that spans the ages
shaking hands
with humble sages
preparing dinner
playing waitress
“so think with me on this,
how did this moment
come to exist” on somethingness
on nothingness
what’s going on
>behind the scenes
before the singer
begins to sing
imagine what went in
to that note
before this
moment
was composed
“pennies from heaven”
a poor man like me
who might chronically
underachieve
but you know
somedays I’m so sure
somedays I believe
Oh Mary, your faith was so great
“there’ll be pennies from heaven for you and me”
Source: The Author, 2017