Sunday, 30 September 2012

I've Got A Secret

I've got a secret
I keep it close, tucked inside my pocket
Quietly I check to make sure I still got it

I've got a secret ...
Don't tell

It takes me to places I never knew were mine
I sip and savour it like a good glass of wine

I've got a secret ...
Don't tell

I keep it in my heart and in my head
At night time I carry it with me to my bed
I've got a secret ...

Loose lips sink ships
Hush mum the words
To keep a secret locked on it's shelf
You better keep it to yourself

I've got a secret ...
Don't tell

Its as sweet as apple blossoms in the spring
Its round and circular like a golden ring ~ Never Ending ~
I've got a secret ...

Oh Love, What You Do To Us

Oh Love ...

What you do to us!

How the sight, sound, smell and touch of you 
Make the tide within our hearts rise and swell.

Ohhhhh and that rush of delicious heat!

That envelops a body from tip to tip
And makes knees go weak.

Oh Love ...

Our eyes overflow with your delights!

We are rendered both alert and powerless.
Submerged in a flood of feeling.

Swallowed by the current ...

Tuesday, 25 September 2012

Sweet Somethings

Photograph by Photographer Wendy Metcalfe-Morrison

The blue eyed gypsy woman leaned back in her chair and took her time assessing the young nervous lad seated at her table ... finally her scandalously red lips parted,  "So? How can I help you?"

Madame Zora's far reaching silent stare had given him the jitters and by the time she asked him what she could do to help, he was so nervous his words gushed out like pressurized water from a busted pipe, "Well, there's this girl and she's really, well, perfect and I know this might sound kinda corny but I want to whisper in her ears, you know, sweet nothings and ... stuff."

Madame Zora's right eyebrow lifted and she sighed "First things first. Sweet nothings?" Madame Zora leaned in conspiratorily "There is no such thing. Let me tell you this; if a girl allows you close enough and long enough to whisper in her ear ...  those words are sweet somethings, and they will be considered promises. So young man, you think about what you are offering, and I wouldn't be too hasty. Few things shatter as hard as broken promises, even the softly whispered ones."

Madame Zora winked and leaned back in her chair. "Now, as for and ... stuff" 

With the dramatic flair of a flamenco dancer, Madame Zora raised both arms into the air, twisting and turning heavily adorned hands before lowering them to caress her all seeing crystal ball.  Finally, having unlocked the secrets held with in it's depths, she looked up with a slow smile, "and ... stuff will soon find its way to you and I believe you will find it very uplifting."

Madame Zora then reached a long slender hand, palm up across the table and softly whispered, "That will be ten dollars please."

Elliot, Mr. Johnson and the Pretty Girl with Pink Glossed Lips

Elliot didn't even realize that he had been leaning against the counter staring at her since she walked into the pharmacy. He watched her intently as she examined tube after tube of pink lip gloss.
Just yesterday when he had stocked the shelves with all that girlie stuff, having to make sure they all went where they were supposed to go, he was more than a little annoyed to discover there were so many shades of pink - cotton candy pink, rose petal pink, blush pink, apple blossom pink and on and on!
But now watching her and thinking about the lucky tube she'd finally choose, with its slick little wand and sponge tip, all wet with her preferred shade of pink, gliding over her perfect lips ...well, he was thrilled it was his hands that stocked those shelves. Maybe some of his DNA would even get to her lips!  The thought embarrassed him but made his eyes glow brighter and made his cheeks turn their own shade of freckled pink.
So deeply entranced watching his fantasy girl, and she was his one and only fantasy girl and had been since grade 5,  he didn't realize his boss had been watching him and had now come to rest beside him, a small and compassionate smile turning the corners of his mouth up.

"Pretty girl. You know her?" Mr. Johnson asked.

A little embarrassed, Elliot nodded "Yeah, since 5th grade."

"You're in grade 9 this year?"


"4 years then?"


"Think maybe you'll ask her out this year?"

"I don't even think she knows my name."

Mr. Johnson gave Elliot a gentle slap on his back and whispered, "Well, here's your chance to introduce yourself. She's coming this way."

Monday, 24 September 2012

The Wax and Wane

Is it possible for one to know the depth of another's emotions?
Know it so well, so deeply, so profoundly that we too feel it?
That we too are brought to our knees?

If they could tell us;
If they were to try and explain their wax and wane
Their torrent of tears, their raging fears

Would we listen?
Or would we insist
 "You're being unreasonable and emotional. You must stop this."

Are our hearts big enough?
Is there room
For a frightened soul needing to be exhumed?

Sunday, 23 September 2012

As The World Lies Asleep

The world lies asleep
Under rainy skies
But not I

I roll along
On darkened streets
And I wonder as I drive

Oh I wonder ...
Where is the Lightning and the Thunder

Why is there only rain today
Why is there only rain
Why is there only rain today
Why is there only rain

Wednesday, 19 September 2012

These Resplendent But Dangerous Times

New Lovers are interesting creatures
Primping our feathers and polishing tongues
So that rehearsed stories slip out with ease

Ahhhhhh...these resplendent but dangerous times

The preening and waxing of word, as the hands of the clock move
Become less playful lures and more so ... expectant promises
That can resemble and feel like chain link

Ahhhhh...these resplendent but dangerous times

Oh but the temptation to throw caution to the wind is too strong
We tear off our clothes and dive into love's depths
And we forget our mother's caution "Still Waters Run Deep!" 

Ahhhhh...these resplendent but dangerous times

Tuesday, 18 September 2012

Perhaps It Should Be

If it isn't enough

That a soul doesn't know how to pretend being other than who they are

That they are a tiny bit shy around folks they don't know

That they can't help but flit about like a butterfly from thought to thought

That they dance and move to music that wells up from within them, even though others can't hear it

That they laugh and cry as emotion moves them 

If that isn't enough

... perhaps it should be ...

Come Little Butterfly

Come little butterfly
Come dance with me
Come dance with me
Flutter your wings
Stir the air I breathe
Breathe your sweet breath upon me

Bewitch my captivated heart
With your delicate rhythms

Come little butterfly
I await your arrival
I await your arrival
Take hold of my finger
In your tiny grasp
Lead me dancing into your world, the homeland of your heart

Come little butterfly 
Come dance with me ...

Sunday, 16 September 2012

If We

If we have to be taken there
By pinched ear
Weren't we really caught somewhere
Other than "Here"?

If they have to take the action
Of tugging our heart's sleeve
Does the compass not point to distraction
When our minds choose to leave?

When our thoughts start to wander
Is the heart far behind?
It's possibly something to ponder
For it must be nagging the mind
We know we are so clever
So perhaps we ought to try
To figure out who's being foolish ... and whether
It's worth the knowing why?

Thursday, 13 September 2012

Riding A Jet Stream

Photograph by Photographer Wendy Metcalfe-Morrison

From out of nowhere she appeared
Riding a jet stream like a cowgirl on a magick carpet saddle
Her face flushed
Blue eyes bright, intent on the chase

Bemused by the curious spectacle she made
He stood quietly watching and that was a mistake
For as she came closer
He realized (too late) he was her quarry

Sunday, 9 September 2012

Fix Your Stare

Love my Aphrodite
Play with my Nymph
Share what I desire
Warm yourself by my fire

Love my Aphrodite
Accept me
Wander with me
Listen to my prayers

Love my Aphrodite
Challenge me
Claim me
Leave your mark on my world ...

... but Never Ever Ever let your gaze fall elsewhere ...

Open Up Your "Never" land

Open your Never land to me
I want to map it all
The mysteries, hidden coves, and uncharted depths
Emancipations and self-liberations

Let me explore you
As you share your story
Tracing the geography of your body
Inch by Inch, Line by Line

I want to memorize the rise of chest
The fall of belly
The valley of  inner thigh
Freeing your story with reverent hands
Open your Never land to me

Friday, 7 September 2012

She's Arrived

Oooh, she's arrived

Last night as I lay in my bed, just outside my house
I heard the familiar patter of her footsteps 
As they mingled with the rustling crimson and golden  "fallen of  just yesterday"

I leave my window open, waiting
To breathe in her delicious scent, that heavenly bouquet of
Upturned earth and crisp cool air that's been kissed by Gulf of St. Lawrence

Oooh, she's arrived

Her full hips, gracing Horns of Plenty, sway as she shimmies and struts about our island
Gathering firewood for Samhain and climbing the birch, the poplar, the maple 
 Adorning their leaves with Byzantine colours, cinnamon and mustard

Oooh, she's arrived

And as Islanders dream of abundance, she slips in through cracks and crannies 
To sample pickles and jams 
And to bless every farmer and their harvest as they sleep

Oooh, she's arrived and she calls to us to celebrate, to lift up, and give thanks!

Thursday, 6 September 2012

This Town Is Small (Island Poems)

Last year I had been graced with the opportunity to collaborate with some wonderful artists and take part in this exhibit. It was one of the bright highlights of my year and I look forward to working with this group again in the future.  

(Photograph by Nils Ling. Concept for photo by Catherine Ann and Nils Ling)

Said Soul

"When your vows have finished feasting upon themselves

I will be here.

When Anger's Storms subside

I will be here.

When the Chameleon mimicry is stilled by truth

I will be here.

I am very patient."  Said her Soul.

(photo taken by Photographer, Wendy Morrison)

Tuesday, 4 September 2012

Immersed in Your Deep

Turbulent Waters 

Swirling round my feet
Tugging me out further

Into your deep ... into your deep

A kiss is what I long for 

But I choke on salty air
And those waters keep pulling
Do I turn or do I dare

Sunday, 2 September 2012


An early riser, I usually greet the day before the sun.

Today was no different and my routine treated me to a delicious quietness and a gorgeous view of Luna, soft and glowing.  In that moment I could easily fathom how the ancient Egyptians envisioned our Earth as an egg watched over at night by the moon, seen as a great white bird.
A mother goose watching over her egg.

I felt small and also loved, and connected to something much larger than myself and the landscape around me. I thought about how all our stories are small fragments of the whole that is Creation's story. Mental images and words flooded me.

I have always loved imagery and symbolism and instantly my mind started to symbolically merge form with words and I thought of all the people I have encountered in my life's journey...

And I wonder what their bodies would look like if one were to map them. 

The Physical. The Emotional. The Mental. The Spiritual.

Their strengths and weaknesses
Their struggles and their ease
Their fears and their bravery
Their agonies and their joys

What cartographic symbols would they choose to map their journeys and experiences?