Rhymes, Rants & Accolades from North Central BC

Archive for December, 2016



“Mom, I know you’re no longer on this earthly plane,
But at times I’ve felt you challenge me again.
Coincidences can’t explain what has transpired:
The knowledge hidden for so long that I acquired?

“Were you happy when your sister met her brother?
She’d been all alone- now there were others.
Is that why I’d received the phone call from the past,
Which unraveled family secrets at long last?

“An old friend revealed the link behind the mystery,
Of a biracial marriage hidden in your history.
You had promised never to reveal the story,
When in the Orphans Home back in Victoria.

“Your mother must have been in desperate straits
She’d changed your names to hide your Chinese traits,
They’d never have allowed biracial children
Inside that stern white Protestant old building.

“Mom, were you pleased when I compiled the story?
Some of it is wrong for that I’m sorry.
Your grandson’s painting on the cover makes me smile.
I’m sure your parents loved each other for awhile!”

SUMMER MOOD-SWINGS (silly poem #53)


Joyous, blissful, carefree hours
Gentle breezes, quiet showers
Rivers tiding
Trout abiding
Fragrant flowers
Bicycle riding.
Followed by:
Steaming, burning, blazing heat
Weather that arrives replete
With snakes and mites
And insect bites
Athlete’s feet
And cabbage blight
Waves that riffle rubber boat
While you indolently float
Upon a lake
And then sun bake
Upon the shore
‘Til every pore
Is welded, roasted, basted, braised,
Red with blisters fully raised
And very sore
For days and days.

LAZARUS JEWEL BOX (silly poem #52)

“Lazarus Jewel Box” is the name of a type of clam shell. Today’s prompt
inspired me to write about the loss of a few items from an earlier time.

I once had a shiny grey jewelry box
It was filigreed all over
With a windmill on top
My dad was from Holland
So that may have been where
The pretty thing came from
And been mine to share.

But I lost it….

A diamond ring that was mine as a bride
Was too large for my finger
But I wore it with pride.
It disappeared at a long-ago dance
For the person who found it
A luckier chance.

But I was devastated…

My first-born infant was given a pair
Of beaded moccasins,
Too big to wear
One ended up in the washing machine
The buckskin had shrunk
To the size of a bean.

And my baby never got to wear them…

My mom-in-law made us a quilt, bless her heart
I used it and washed it
’til it fell apart
I cannot remember
If I put it away
But it’s gone and
I wish we still had it today

Oh well, it kept us warm when we needed it.

POLITICS IN THE 90s (silly poem #51)

Letters to Santa from Politicians in
the 1990s

Dear Santa Clause, let’s make a deal,
An election goodie I’ll reveal,
Next year as you zip through the night,
Faster than a Westjet flight,
One gift to all will be from me,
‘Cause I will trim the G.S.T.
But only if you’ll stuff a rock,
In Paul Martin’s Christmas sock!
Signed: Stephen Harper

Dear Santa, I’ve been proved to be,
“Innocent” by Gomerey,
I knew not when, why or how much,
Cash by corrupt hands was touched,
Cretien was the big boss back then,
So please, please, let me try again!
I promise to be good for months–
Until the next “non-confidence”
Signed: Paul Martin

Dear Santa Clause, I’ll sing my tune,
‘Bout how to spend some money soon,
To help the homeless, addicts, sick,
As on our streets they sprawl and splick.
And birds will dance and bees will sing,
And Gays will wear a wedding ring,
Happy we’ll be forever after,
Please Santa, cease your raucous laughter!
Signed: Jack Layton


April 2. [Poetry Challenge Month} Prompts are: Seeing an old friend. [Virginia’s prompt]
I challenge you to write a poem that takes the form of a family portrait. You could write, for example, a stanza for each member of your family. [Napowrimo’s prompt]

Yes, Old Friend, I’ve lived a good life,
Two fertile farmers of whom I was “The Wife”
I bore three children and there were five more,
Transplants in my garden – blessings galore!

My cute little Bee and my Buttercup,
Were joined by their brother, a curious Pup,
The first three arrived when I was quite young,
But marriages don’t last for everyone…

Husband number two had five of his own,
I loved them like mine when they became grown,
The two older girls, a Peach and a Pear,
And the littlest child – a Strawberry fair.

The boys in the middle were Flint and Feather,
Outdoors in the bush in all kinds of weather,
Then much later, in nineteen-seventy four,
A wee flowering Fern appeared at the door.

So now Old Friend, I would like to know,
How many children does your garden grow?

LIFE & DEATH- serious poem #1

Life and Death

First I was an embryo
One big eye and a tail
Somewhat translucent
Blinking my eye and wiggling my tail
Soaking up nourishment
From the uterine floor
Gradually I develop a shape
And a sense of self
I can feel. I can move. I can hear
Sounds, comforting and familiar

Then one day
Disaster strikes
My world begins to quiver
Slowly, then faster and faster
Wave after wave of embryonic fluid
Surges against the walls
Powerful forces propel me
Toward the termination
Of life as I’ve known it
My body is wracked with pain
As I squeeze through
A narrow opening
Into a strange and wondrous new world
Where I dwell
For more than three
Score years and ten
And then it happens again
Disaster strikes….

WIFE-HOOD? (silly poem #50)

(Both Margaret Trudeau & Princess Margaret had
separated- 1970s)

Wife-hood doesn’t always set
With gals who’re christened Margaret
If a Margaret shares your Chargex
Your marriage may become letharg-ex!

Elizabeths have sometimes tarried
With the men they later married
Their marriages are doomed to failure
(Especially if they’re last name’s ‘Taylor’)

In ancient Egypt, Cleopatra
Loved Caesar, Anthony, etc-a-tra
Her lovers died and so did she
In unrequited misery!

It seems to me that gals whose names
Are longest fail the mating games
Anns and Marys have less strife
While Eve was Adam’s only wife.

All the Margarets at large
Should insist on simply “Marge”
And gals who’re called Elizabeth
Should use the shortened form of “Beth.”

Perhaps the Cleos out in Egypt
Abbreviated, would not be gypped
Out of lifelong wedded bliss…
Unless of course, they’d rather miss!

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