December 2012

…..View Issue

Vol. 3, No. 9


Georgia Atkin – Tomorrow

Meg Baird – Two Gals

Irene Baros-Johnson – To the Further Reaches (Pt 2)

Earl Bradford – Fore-Fathers

Janet Brush – Just Looking?

Morgan Buhr Boutilier – Without You

Normand Carrey – Harm Reduction

Tim Carter – Alone in the rain

Jasmine Chater – Amy

Jennifer Deyarmond – Untitled

Harry Garrison – Convergence

Ron Gillis – Approaching Season

Bill Hanrahan – In the Swordfish Pulpit

Cathy Hanrahan – Perseverance

John Wise McLeod – 2012 (2012)

Nicole D. Myers – Aubade

Jaywant Patil – The War of Good and Evil

David Pretty – Just Call Me Nostradamus (Pt 1)

Molly Jean Spinney – Image in my Glass

David Williams – Humanmas

Tamara Williams – The River

Return to Top

Poem by Georgia Atkin

I cannot believe
that there is nothing,
cannot believe
that we are so easily
prone to believing
the world will end today.

Mark my words,
you’ll see-

But the world
has held itself together
for billions of years,
the stars shine
and the rain still falls, and still-
there is life.

And you may shake your head at me,
mutter knowingly to yourself,
safe in the belief
that the sky is sure
to fall,

but I believe
it is a far more difficult
and wonderful thing
to believe

that there is a tomorrow.

Return to Top

Two Gals
Poem by Meg Baird

a glass of wine and cigarette
at 2 a.m. I understand
her child beside her
envious I am

she is very quiet
very bright and very sweet
more demonstrative than wordy
she is deep

today she brought her baby dog
his tawny curls fit snugly in her arms
he was the joy of all the room
I watched her as her pleasure bloomed

Return to Top

To the Further Reaches (Part 2)
Poem Irene Baros-Johnson

Delighted, the young man welcomed
Finding what he most wanted. He took
The name of his beloved community,
Adding it to his own. So sustained,
He found work and became important
Among Baptist led by Rev. Burton,
Numerous down in Halifax on Sundays.
Read scripture, song memory served well –
When enslaved, most were kept illiterate.

Preston was the first Black delegate sent
To the annual session meeting. Sought
By congregants questioning faith, work, or
Personal need, he helped alleviate past and
Continued deprivations. For him to perform
Ceremonies, a decade later John Hamilton
And Prince William Sport raised funds for
Study in England in 1831. What did he say,
See before Parliament voted to end slavery?

Just after the founding of Cornwallis Street
Baptist Church, ordained Preston returned
With $650.00 to build in 1832 with a school.
The minister met in Preston, Hammonds Plains
And Campbell Road (Africville) monthly.
His example caused Joseph Howe to envision
When Blacks would assume important places
Beyond labouring. Once taunted, adjourning
Out of doors, Rev. Preston satisfied the crowd.

Return to Top

Poem by Earl Bradford

Shadowy time unearthly Veil…
trembling waves from Oceans East;
Prussians, Scotsmen, Irish… Post-Revolutionary
European Tradesmen, Merchants, Masons,
Soldiers, Vassals in Steerage and Holds of ships
Over the Sea to Winter in another land…
Ship Nancy, Hector, Pearl… Others;
Brigands, Barqs, Clippers… to lay Roots on
New England shoreline; came from Desolation…
remnants of Wars in France or Egypt, their Prussian
Mothers left at Hearth with Sewing, perhaps
never to return… their Blacksmith Fathers,
burying grief into Anvils… Cobblestone alleys
abandoned for dreams of Autumn Harvests
in North America… Nineteenth Century
Homes without Radio, Telephones, Electricity…
Trajectory of Arrow, Forge and Furrowed Sea;
stoical chairs of Seamstresses who for decades,
sat entire evenings with Tea and Fresh Pastries,
to traditional Fiddle music, while their Men
drove spikes into Railway sleepers… Fished,
Ploughed, or Perished at Sea.

Return to Top

Just Looking?
Poem by Janet Brush

Walking down the street
following the tightest
cutest little ass
sitting on top of
two great legs.

getting hot
wishing he’d turn around
is the top half
as sexy as the bottom?

“STOP! I don’t want to hear this!
You’re too old!”
This from someone
too young to know
– that getting old doesn’t mean getting cold
– that sex past fifty is nifty
– that she’ll change her tone
when her youth has flown

But oh, that sweet young ass
would be so creeped out
if I whistled at him.

Return to Top

Without You
Poem by Morgan Buhr Boutilier

No bend, No twist, No life i have missed.
No jump, No play for the life i have today.
No future to hold, No life to follow
Just endless sorrow.
Only you can see the true light in me
and can break this spell of Hell,
and can lead me to our Heaven.
Just for you and me.

Return to Top

Harm Reduction
Poem by Normand Carrey

A transvestite on crack, others their face anxious,
smoke a cigarette; should I cross the street
or stay on side. In the distance I hear a faint
sound, then finally (come closer, whisper, closer),
an ambulance siren invite
and pierce Aunt Sally’s November sky.

As we stand on the threshold
nervously pocketing our fingers
I turn my shoulder just so,
point it towards the matinée crowd
step off the curb, and
edge in.

I move west, the invisibility regains
in territory; the Grand, the Sheraton,
the Hilton, glassy monuments, grassy heaps.
Some still smoke cautiously
others are re-sheltered, a junkie hiccups
my diaphragm separates.

The noble businessman costumed
cell tied to his ear like a broad shield,
like the adorable beachhead
to be held at any cost,
the homeless hugs his manhole.

As the time to destination (draw nearer, reveal, nearer),
surely my chest will explode.

These are the family martyrs.

Return to Top

Alone in the rain
Poem by Tim Carter

Rain drops falling
From the dark sky
I feel trapped, lost inside.
Nothing left not even pride
As today is the day
That my love has died.
My heart is black
There is no coming back
Always ending with pain
with nothing ever gained
Love has been drained
And here I remain
Alone in the rain…

Return to Top

Poem by Jasmine Chater

your day had come
too soon and too sudden
each note you sang in honest humor
in blunt heartbreak.

hysterical lungs, soulful cries
a yoyo of chaos and
with spontaneity and intimacy
with emotion
you mastered these pieces
and now your masterpieces echo
in the walls of a hundred glamorous venues.

was it all a drug?

your pain and weakness
a mélange
a layered energy, apparent
vocally and haunting me.
Deep velvet contralto
you bluesed me,
you jazzed me away.

Return to Top

Poem by Jennifer Deyarmond

When two different
creating some sort of
strange i m a g i n a t i o n,
and, of course,
more infatuations with
what isn’t than
what is.

Return to Top

Haiku by Harry Garrison

I don’t want to, I
shouldn’t, and I can’t! That’s a
good combination!

Return to Top

Approaching Season
Poem by Ron Gillis

As Spring slips to summer, Summer to Fall.
Apprehensively waiting cold Winters’ Call.
First frost of Autumn warning indeed,
North Wind so frigid pouring in from the sea.

Season of challenge ice, sleet and snow
Test of survival twenty below.
Survive we shall like forefather before,
Till warm breeze of Spring caress us once more.

Return to Top

In the Swordfish Pulpit
Poem by Bill Hanrahan

Jigging her walker down disinfected halls,
..past catatonic wheelchairs,
.and toothless moans from pissy doorways.

Suddenly ocean spray needles her face,
in her ears the whack, whack, of a one-lung engine.
And Dolly, a wind-blown figurehead,
cantilevered over the bow,
clutching the wrought iron railing
of the swordfish pulpit,
.her father at the wheel .

Round them Saint Margaret’s Bay,
a blue dazzle in the morning sun,
..mica-splattered beach rocks sparkling,
.black spruce saw-toothing cerulean sky.
waves slap slapping the boat’s belly,
.and Dolly in the pulpit, 10 years old,
barefoot and laughing,
heaving make believe harpoons at life.

Return to Top

Poem by Cathy Hanrahan

I’m at loose ends, unsure and so I sit
Tethered to the explanation of my confusion
aspiring to accurately describe an illusion
Tormented by words that don’t come
Almost certain that fate lies in waiting
With cruel intentions and subtle mentions
Of all that I have endured
I’m tempted to believe the remote chance
of a second round, change of circumstance
Aware of the possibility of a full scale tumble
Down imagined strong walls that will surely crumble
under the weight of my expectation
I am convinced of this as it has been my labour
We are all solitary, alone to savour
Not defined by the attachments we hold
Yet emotion warms and shelters my heart from the cold
Then wilts in the palm of subjugation
Overcome, defeated and deflated
And once again its worth understated
To all but this suffering heart

Return to Top

2012 (2012)
Poem by John Wise McLeod

alpha beta gamma done
no neutrino in sight

same battering ram
Commons’ other end
grandmother rolls out alive
no child stolen

marchers march on Marginal Road
droners drone
in the railroad hotel
talk is general
though the general does not speak

on Strawberry Hill
Sally Ann offers five dollars
for a weekend computer glitch

Manhattan’s mad mortgage stat
president Bill suggests five billion
as good as German gold

Return to Top

Poem Nicole D. Myers

the hour is hollow
après sunrise

the moon lifts
arousing dawn
a tiny song
sung softly

in a hushed whisper
between parceled lips

awakens the blue
clarity of daylight

dialogue between
parting lovers

is mournful

affection is evanescent

Return to Top

The War of Good and Evil
Poem by Jaywant Patil

The struggle between good and evil
right and wrong and light and darkness
has been there since the dawn of time,
it is perpetual and never ending cycle.

This struggle is there within and outside us
It’s there between peoples, cultures and nations.
It’s there between religions and ideologies
We all can adopt to it most of the time.

When the struggle reaches a boiling point,
it erupts like a big volcano violently.
Spewing its toxic ashes and hell hot lava,
engulfing everything around it.

World is in turmoil at this time
due to ideological and financials crisis.
Are we close to this boiling point?
Is the volcano about to erupt violently?

I hope and pray-no!

Return to Top

Just Call Me Nostradamus (Part 1)
Poem by David Pretty

I was selling paper clips
to a disembodied voice
……when the Twin Towers,
Once mistaken for the pillars
…….of Skull Island by the Mighty Kong,
Evaporated into dust.
“My brother’s downtown!” it shrieked
…………………before the line went dead.

Tibetan priests in Motuo
probably knew what was happening
……………………………….before we did.
Exiled in our hermetically-sealed
………………vending machines,
The only scraps of information came
…..from troubled but resolute customers,
Who, like spawning salmon,
…….refused to acknowledge
……………………the end of the world
Until their destinies of procurement
…………………………….were fulfilled.

Return to Top

Image in my Glass
Poem by Molly Jean Spinney

The glass fumbles in my hands
I look into her eyes- her lips,
my gaze shifts and
I am in another place
we laugh before,
in the past her lips pressed
eyes cold, my own blurry
the words she speaks
hit my heart heavy
my focus, the ice
my glass, her heart
I watch her leave
and suddenly
-it’s all very clear to me

Return to Top

Poem by David Williams

We woke to pure and cleansing snow
instantly this day we know
the bending sun our chilling earth
calls snow upon these latitudes
We knew this day must mark a birth
a day for loving attitudes

birthday of the meek not the exalted
frightened vanquished child combatants\
not the champion, the assaulted
The walkers, wanderers, and tossed
The uncounted, unnoticed inhabitants
Sexual slaves and the sexually lost

Disorganized dopers and dazed drunks
the fearful in their cardboard bunks
ethnics in the paths of nations
on the wrong side of the fence
make this day their celebration
honor them with recompense

gather in and outward stretch
at very least your children teach
bring their most endangered friend
include a family of the reviled
making them respected kin
accepted now as rightful child

To mark this day is to compare
hearthside home, and heartless snare
Christmas hopes for gift and joy
in lonely street or the orphans home
are not for every girl and boy
so many children all alone

Return to Top

The River
Poem Tamara Williams

I walked down
down to the river
to wash my untruths away
down to the river
where I place down my falsehoods
to be replaced with
the Spirit of the river

I walked down
down to the river
to wash my untruths away
down to the river
to forgive, to forget, to remember,
the Way back to me, the Way
……….back to Om

We walk up
up from the river
centred, cleansed and renewed
up from the river
Soul and Soul, Love and Love,
……….Spirit and Spirit
We walked up
up from the river

Return to Top




Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.