A bit of a look at religion. I ran three poems together. The first and last can each stand alone, and were written that way. The first poem, Our Father…, won the annual Ontario Poetry Society’s best rhyming poem; the third, The Wisdom of W.A.S., sums up, with a pragmatic look at the final path we must all walk as our lives end. The second, the one in the middle, was later written to tie all three together.
My longest poem in the collection, it’s a ballad of love, tongue in cheek, which suggests that Grog, a caveman bully, was responsible by default responsible for creating the Earth’s first priest.
A light, humorous poem in 1995. I sent it to the National Library of Poetry, where it was one of ten second prizes awarded from, apparently 6,000 submissions. I got U$200, my first pecuniary poetry reward.
When one wakes up in the night then vainly tries going back to sleep, poetry, amongst other twists of a stubborn brain, often comes to mind. However, once engaged it may play second only to counting sheep…or maybe third.