LAST POEM IN APRIL I think that poets should be heard Who speak in syncopated words They trim and twist each phrase they use Trying hard to not abuse The language that is their device To convey thoughts which are precise. I wish that those whose speech is wrought With sentences containing naught An idea…

WHY ARE WE SO INCLINED Why are we so inclined to put our leaders on a pedestal? And when their luster doesn’t shine our Facebook posts besmear them. Why are we so inclined to think they can predict the future? And when economy declines we are surprised and snarky. Why are we so inclined to forget their faults and…

Gadzooks- why do I not know these things? I decided to order tickets from what I assumed was a ticket office located in Prince George or at least somewhere in Canada. One month later- yesterday- I received my Visa bill. Yikes!! Can’t phone because phone lines are backed up.  But I did have an email…

PHOTO OF A LOVED ONE Who knew a photograph Could evoke such pain. A sharp, quick, stabbing Wound, seemingly with Internal bleeding. The blood massing into A pool of sadness. I thought it was all over. Two years have flown by And (as they say) he’s In a better place. When time passes Sufficiently, I…

A POEM ABOUT A POEM A poem encapsulates the moment. An idea niggles its way from your subconscious growing bigger more insistent as it slithers past everyday bits and pieces of paranoia. The poem doesn’t care that the neighbor’s dog woke you up last night or that the phone rang once again urging you to…

Virginia’s writing prompt for a poem: Find a favorite recipe. Now write a poem inspired or in the style of that recipe about a family secret—yours or someone else’s. Broccoli Salad Broccoli is good for you Cut in tiny curly cues Celery sliced so very thin Green onions add and then begin: Toast your slivered…

What a fabulous day! I’m so happy and gay This morn broke my heart Cause my car wouldn’t start But a battery was bought And the ignition caught The wheels went around With barely a sound What a fabulous day! I was happy and gay But then later on My key-rings were gone Two sets…

April poems from the Cariboo Chimney smoke clots the nostrils I can feel the beginnings of a sneeze, a snort A wheeze. Air is heavily laden with moisture Black smoke sifting down To the ground An Old Log House Old log house built In 1927 Still habitable My brother’s friend Lives there along with his dogs…

The school gym packed to capacity. An entire town guffawing, snorting, giggling helplessly, with barely enough time to breathe before convulsing into another throat muscle spasm. Hilarious performances pertaining to people we know and places to go in our “Still Standing” community.