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Poetry

Posted by Good Times on

The Last Dance A dull brown leafwith curled edgescame dancing on my roofone soft pink and blue sunrise.It frolicked and skipped,stopping many timesto rest from celebrating.For a short time,it was completely dormant.Then, with mincing steps,it inched back and forthacross the flat black roofuntil a sudden windy gustwhipped it up and beyond. What would the October winddo with this frail but lively leaf?Would it soon join its siblingsand become earthly compostor would it continue airborneto prance away the autumnbefore winter sealed its fate?At our last earthly dancewill there be breezy comments—“How well she always stayedin rhythm with the world”—or will they...

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Poetry

Posted by Good Times on

The Heart The heart was filled with loved ones: Family, husband, and children. There was no more room for others. Then news of a grandchild is announced… But how can the heart hold another?   The child is born And touches your heart. But how can that be? There is no more room for others. Do the loved ones move over? Or does the heart grow bigger?   Because then it happens… The new love grows and grows More and more each day For this beautiful, loving creature.   The heart does have more room for others.   Jo-Ann Holzschuh...

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Your Poetry

Posted by Good Times on

A Poem Is Never Just a Poem A poem is never just a poem.It’s a peek into the soul.It’s a gift of something that you own.It’s a sharing to unroll. And when you sit down to begin,A transformation’s born,And somehow words and feelings springAnd even rhythms form. Sometimes it’s heavy stuff that’s there,And other times it’s light,But every time, it goes somewhereAnd gets out something right. I’ve written about wildernessAnd hunting buddies, too,And always with a gratefulnessfor the friendships that we grew. I’ve written about lakes and streamsAnd the beauties that they holdAnd even of those pre-hunt dreamsThat in the...

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Your Poetry

Posted by Good Times on

Peaceful Places On a cool Spring dayas rain teases the pavementI throw my arms around memories:Old lovesSweet green grassMe a child in EnglandA swing with a rickety wooden seatWide white steps in a parkA tennis court, deserted and still…  Quiet misty parkwith a silken pondwillows and swansseats for resting and dreaming.I remember that parkas I remember old lovers.They blend togetherA sweet place to go toSomewhere inside mewhere there isonly peace and good feelingwith myself and the world. Old loversOld places, and me,as rain so softlyteases the pavement. Joan KehoeScarborough, ON     Dad Was Right(Thoughts on Growing Old) I awaken...

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Your Poetry

Posted by Murray Lewis on

Arizona Off-Trail Repose Who has not seen beauty throughEyes of painAnd what is more beautiful— The stalwart arms and delicate spring flowersOf a deca-limbed saguaro in May bloom,Finely-needled against the elements, Or the smiling face of a Jamaican emergency room nurseWelcoming you back through a druggy post-opHaze? Those sere Arizona hills beckon with anImpossibly blue sky framingRounded knolls colonized by cacti sentinels,While the urban landscape, seen throughSlanted hospital room blinds,Populated by Don Mills apartment blocks,Calls a patient back to the drudgery andSplendour of living. Bruce Jacobs DavidovitchNorth York, ON       Thoughts of Home and Family “To house and...

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