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.
A tongue in cheek poem dedicated to my granddaughter Jessica, who is a dedicated Vegan.
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.
Alas, war seems to be an evil that just won’t go away. Some times even the generals would like to change the way of it, particularly when war is good for the economy.
When you know a friend is dying, go and visit. Like all friends, once they’re gone, it’s too late.
Brevity is supposed to be the wit of wisdom. Here, I at least managed, if not wisdom; if you don’t like the poems, consider them as half-witted wisdom.