I am woefully behind on my NaPoWriMo posts and am trying to catch up but I liked today’s prompt and was already working on something that would fit.

Thrust back into the concrete jungle
my nerves are inundated by the cult of busy.
It all seems so unnecessary and
everything is strangely offensive.
How long before it all feels familiar again?
How long before I feel a part of the machinery
and apart from my place of origin?
In this moment, that connection feels urgent
and nourishing, a matter of life and death.
But over and over again, the cord must be cut.
Over and over again, farewells must be dispensed:
one, then two, then all at once they spill
from the bottle of my heart.
Goodbye my love, adieu.


After the Stage


NaPoWriMo Day 26

You’ve wordsmithed your way to greatness
(At least in your eyes)
You’ve given the people what they want
(Even if they didn’t know it)
You invoked feelings of bliss and nostalgia,
all honey-sweet and finger-snapping good.
You’ve said your piece
but did it bring you peace?
Are you loose like well-massaged limbs?
Or tensely awaiting the praise-filled reviews?
(or scathing indictments?)
How do you feel after nervously sending your baby
out into the world,
naked and alone
with only your
delivery for protection?
What are you waiting for?
Why do you keep looking into the crowd?
Jump down,
smash the stage
And go shout it from the mountaintops.

The Dance


This poem is meant for NaPoWriMo Day 25. I wrote it for a friend’s wedding which took place yesterday!

When first I beheld the happy couple
I was coming off a roller coaster,
Still unsure of my bearings.
But in their cocoon of loveliness,
There was a spark, a hope, a promise
That the world would steady itself
If not for me, then surely for these two
And steady it did.
On steadied ground, they began their dance
And I’ve been in the audience
As they’ve swayed under starry skies,
Through crowd-filled streets,
In hotel lobbies and with the sea lapping at their feet.
They seemed to breeze past those awkward first steps
Those frenzied moments when fear throws everything off-kilter:
Fear of loss, even before gain; fright even before there is a stage.
They breezed past fear of sore toes right to the sweet spot
Where the dance is everything:
Where the steps come naturally,
Really though, there are no steps – just grooving
There is no audience – just friends,
No spotlights – just highlights,
And no unholy scorecards – just time spent in bliss.
Just the joy of moving in harmony
Through syncopated beats
To Terry Fox Runs;
Through soca and swing
To Canada’s east coast;
Through sweet surprises by waterfalls
To all of us here today.
On this very special day, my hope for you is this:
That you’ll make your own music;
That you’ll carry each other’s hopes and dreams
On the rhythm of your heartbeats;
That you’ll never stop dancing,
Better yet, dance like there’s no tomorrow.



Yellow stained cuticles
and overstuffed bellies are evidence
of curried crab

and fried lobster
consumed with closest of friends
by the sea.

Later, hunched over
hotel sink and garbage pail,
we lay waste

to mangoes of
the East Indian variety, juicy
and surprisingly sweet.

Or, maybe not:
after all, we are sheltered
by mountain ranges,

overdosed on cholecalciferol,
caressed by sweet salty breezes
that dry sweat.

Sand Castles


At the place where water greets land
Children build temporary towers
from the remains of sea creatures,
Remains which hold secret histories.

Histories of explorers and travellers –
Tossed about, drowned, smoothed over.
Histories formed from fragmented truths
about what was and what could have been.

Fragmented truths that create legacies
of entire generations and nations,
Nations built on shifting ground
and teased by rhythmic surf.