The Land

The land was distant

and unknown.

Fathers had spoken of it often,

but back then we simply

couldnt have known

that

there was no becoming then.

We were not ripe,

We we were not grown.

Years past

we laboured

and it remained

a sepia coloured

picture slightly stained.

A place far away

and vast;

A place away,

A place unknown,

A place of peace,

And just a dream,

a single digit out of grasp.

A place trees,

of dancing leaves,

of stone,

of flowing streams;

A place of sunlight

set in midday dreams,

that quiet white blankets

covered on distant winter eves.

As generations grew

to men and women,

as did the strifes and labours too,

with loss and fear,

And costly prices paid

the children died,

the children grew.

Yet with many long and distant

journeys,

coursing back and forth,

sometimes with the many,

sometimes one alone,

The father’s dream in time

became,

the children’s

father’s home.

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Back to the Secret Beach

In celebration of the end of this year and and the beginning of the New I took a short journey to
A secret beach

1/

On the path to
The secret beach
is a sun dial memorial
With an Inscription
that reads:

Time flies
Suns rise
And shadows fall
Let it pass by;
Love reigns
Forever over all.

It is Anonymous.

2/

Over the bridge
of still waters
the fountains
Have now ceased
And the mallards
Sit meditative
on mirrored water
Among reeds
And yellow
floating leaves.

And the waters of
Reconciliation
Lapping,
With their voices, all
Come out to meet me

3/

Pebbles
and coloured
Stones mixed
with driftwood and debris,
the remnants of a multicoloured Life,
Grey now,
greet me as
tenant stands,
crosses
Self by the sea,
That leads
to the portals
Of a blue infinity.image

Disjointed Muse

Disjointed Muse

A disjointed muse has hold of me.
Crossing  city streets
aimlessly with a knife
at my back
and a blonde woman
walking  in front of me ,
wondering  what it would be like
being hit by a speeding car
and in a millisecond
becoming
a broken bag of bones …
But let’s save that  experience
for another night .

Beach on Infinity

There’s a secret beach I travel to along the shores of Lake Ontario in the course of my frequent walks. It is a somewhat secluded spot tucked away in the trees at the end of long winding paths. I call it “my beach” although it is not mine. It is a destination that I share, at times with a few other souls, adults, children but mostly with nature alone.  It’s secluded, especially in the fall and winter. A place of contemplation and beauty, here the water is often beautifully luminous, translucent, although never static. It’s colour, clarity, form change and often dramatically. The horizon and sky seem endless here. The crescent shaped beach of fine sand, multi-coloured pebbles, and scattered trees, is mostly full of flat slabs rocks of recycled brick, asphalt, worn down by nature to resemble their original states before they were processed or touched  by human hands. Blanched deadwood litters the shore like snakes, and lying nudes. The beach becomes transformed by wind, water, and light by the season, by the hour, most strikingly at 4pm and just before sunset. These are the times when light hits the rock, water, and clouds at certain angles casting long shadows that transform it into another world.

Beach on Infinity

And we walked along

the guarded path

where the pygmy loves

could not tread,

to the sands of my sacred beach

on a sea of infinity,

to that place in the sand

where the setting sun

froze and

stood still as a pearl.

And our dreams crystallized

into cast

grains of salt

all around us.

There with our feet

grounded In the sand

of a cosmos

of a million realities,

we became

a knife in a bleeding heart.

Our tears became bubbles

that rose upwards

and burst into the air

that was thick

with the moment

of a golden light,

and with a fleeting

despair,

quickly melting

into a night of stars.

From “Free Verse in Useless Times” by PWChaltas