Tuesday, November 30


Month of Gratitude

November inspired
thirty poems for me; a gift
single frozen tear

LyndiaP November 30, 2010 (PoemADay Challenge 30 of 30*)

*which was SO much FUN!

Monday, November 29



Yanking flowers at pre-cut stems
watching them handed
to The Girl.

valued for their remorse

unsecret mystery waits
on the surface
to bloom
buds of guilt
petals as gifts
artificially scented
artificially explaining
in purified water
bathed to be sacred
welcomed by childish smiles.

Confessions begin.
Nothing can be done
and nothing is broken.

Daises and daffodils
reminding the do-er
soothing the damned
with unequal unison.
Courting heartbreak
to mate
in temples of forgiveness.

LyndiaP November 29, 2010 (PoemADay 29 of 30)

Sunday, November 28

Your Basket

in response to a poem called 'Basket' I read by the wonderful Leonard Cohen. From his recent collection of poems "The Book of Longing" published in 2006.

Your Basket

I took you
back and forth
carrying your basket
until you told me
a divine voice
announced it was full.

Full of leaves
Full of secrets
Full of black things
and dry water

I carried the basket
so you could sign autographs
on stollen content
basket of poem fodder
words of others -
to make you famous
and me wait.

In outstretched darkness
(my arms are tired)
praise basking in sunlight
(you lay your head in the muse's lap)

LyndiaP November 28, 2010 (PoemADay 28 of 30)
Also shared for Poetry Potluck

Saturday, November 27



Give me one minute
...then one reason
from one wanderer
to one wonderer.

One exception too
one rule
for my one and only
heart: one hole.

One whole,
note one who holds, answers
one tried
one time to
out run one
step beyond one's limits
one mile at a
time one made
count. One to

LyndiaP November 27, 2010 (PoemADay 27 of 30)

Friday, November 26

Apology Day

Apology Holiday

reading my notebook
of days one to three-twelve.
Stainless steel arguments
in one column
Tarnished by the silence of
your point of view.

This record was partial
with fault all my own
for seeing the narrow
solo-track of goodbye
from only one side.
On Holidays,
track glistens
becomes double wide.
Rusty familiar distances
to fill rooms with our
empty stares
fills upstairs
pollution waiting to drift down.

So save what we mean,
the mean that we say,
to sit in apology
our curse and our gift.
Blemished smoggy
record drifting
beneath our noses
Floating weight
old words erased
beyond dull memories

Lifting rust-stains
of hurt feelings
putting a twisted tale

And clear air
we can walk in
not work on,
this Apology Holiday.

LyndiaP November 26, 2010 (PoemADay 26 of 30)

Thursday, November 25

Called You

Called You

If my lies could no more be typed

or sent
or texted
or recorded

What if I only called you.

If your fears could no more be avoided
or sluffed
or repressed
or hidden

What if I only called you.

If our war no longer lingered
or overwhelmed
or suffocated
or blamed.

What if I only called you.

LyndiaP November 25, 2010 (PoemADay 25 of 30)

Wednesday, November 24

New Message

E- Poem

I already Tweeted this.

It already went viral;
this message about life:
A cardboard box.
That we all have in common.

Pale Excitement:
this attachment of reality
this link to the real life.
A cardboard box.

Bland Awe:
the place no one has been
the space we long to be.
Real as cardboard
with Real emptiness inside.
That we all have in common.

LyndiaP November 24, 2010 (PoemADay 24 of 30)

I have no illusions that this is cheery or "wonder"-like, just a bit sad...and possibly sadder still that it was inspired by a dream.

Tuesday, November 23

winter home

With so much talk about weather I wonder if it's human nature to be captivated with it and constantly communicate about it. So a weather-related poem:

Winter Home

shielding all but the eyeballs
feet sink into the floor.
White cold slithers up far
past the measured drifts before.

With teasing all because
weather's all that's on my mind
tell the warmth-protected skeptics
they're welcome to rewind

a silent blizzard unaffecting
those with cars that sleep indoors
but trek past all those without roofs
- windchill cuts deep, heart implores.

LyndiaP November 23, 2010 (PoemADay 23 of 30)

Monday, November 22



You hover
in space
like you were born in that place

roll 'round
in the air
upside down as you dare

just watch
as I wait
trying to levitate

leave me bruised
spell-bound & confused

you warn
not to frown
as it's the coming down

... that's really the tough part.

LyndiaP November 22, 2010 (PoemADay 22 of 30 and submission to Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck - theme: MM WW - Magic & Miracles, Wonder & Wizardry)

Sunday, November 21

snow 21

in light of the many other thinking and/or writing projects today the poem today is short and sweet.

Snow Falls (haiku)

glorious snowflake
fragile ice floating in air
shovel: back aching

LyndiaP November 21, 2010 (for PoemADay. 21 of 30)

Saturday, November 20

Conference Poem

This is What a Poem Looks Like...

this is what a poem looks like
when it speaks bridges into existence
scribes the measured steps of justice.

can we not experience kindred happiness
being inspired by others?
instead of being overwhelmed
details, statistics, perspectives, theory
of new information
wanting and wishing to love it.

Love by hearing the data but
letting yourself feel
the affect seeping
from brain to spine
to the deeper places:
Fingers & Feet.
Power to build bridges
Power to march toward justice.

whatever it looks like in your empathetic eyes
where ever it takes you on the map of your heart

LyndiaP November 20, 2010 (PoemADay 20 of 30) Inspired by the Parkland Conference in Edmonton Alberta www.parklandinstitute.ca

Friday, November 19


A Tile Sounding Floor

__click__slish slish___timp tump__
__________________chu-eh chu-eh_
whishp whaa_____timp_timp________

wisshp-aah___wishp_timptimp ch-uh

__________ad nausea

LyndiaP November 19, 2010 (PoemADay 19 of 30)

Thursday, November 18

PD Poetry

Rather shockingly today I created my (first?) "PD Poem." It happened in a "PD" (Professional Development) session at work.

(it's another acrostic)

Culture to Community

Sense of community:
Having values
All create. Open to
Reinventing culture.
Evolving to be
Defined by what we share.

LyndiaP November 18, 2010 (PoemADay Challenge 18 of 30)

endnote: if you wonder about the topic of the session it was intercultural/multicultural-ism. We discussed many things but I was struck by the idea of "culture" as a set of rules that allow for inclusion and exclusion.... and plenty of other great stuff!

Wednesday, November 17



lay back on the marshmallow mat
now a cushion separate from skin
speaks the language of spine.
Melt into the white mound
become the crust to this
Marshmallow Earth.

Stretching S's into child-drawn hilltops
both backbone and body
become one with white

Sinking softly into itself
marble in thick syrup.
Displacing walls of comfort
calling to them from human lips
to slow waves of mushy mallow
soft and supportive.
Then a call from unknown
clouding the comfort
with claustrophobic fears
HumanMarshmallow of Light
engulfed by darkness.

Fear of darkness
weight of fear
pushing away the comfort
a way of belonging
in the contours of your own spine.

LyndiaP November 17, 2010 (PoemADay 17 of 30)

Tuesday, November 16

16 Take 2

I did PoemADay 16... then it electronically disappeared. It was one of those magic tricks you are totally fooled by and desperately want to learn the slight of hand behind it. I digress... perhaps fate has put this computer debachule in my day for a reason - forced me to go for "take 2"

Here it is -


Collage my heart with cellophane
be transparent to the world.
Collage my heart with tissue paper
it can soak up tears oft pearled.
Collage my heart in black and white
so every colour is content.
Collage my heart with dawn and night
opposites to represent.

Collage, the art I do alone
collage to show I'll share it.
Collage the lips that speak your voice
Collage the face that wears it.

LyndiaP November 16, 2010 (PoemADay 16.5 of 30)

Monday, November 15

Poetry Potluck 1

for my first "Poetry Potluck" with Jingle Poetry we have the theme of Emotions, Moods & Feelings" this one is something simply fun!

Plain Excitement

cheering, joy indeed:
"Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay!"
"I've got it!"
"I'm going!"
Thoughts at sonic speed:
"preparations in a suitcase
inspirations in a new way"
Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay!

Excitement ever plain
Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay!
here I go again...
this time not quite the same
Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay!
this excitement is 'plane.'

LyndiaP November 15, 2010 (PoemADay Challenge 15 of 30 & Poetry Potluck submission)

Sunday, November 14

Mountain Eyes

Closed My Eyes to Hear the Mountains

Thoughts drifted slower, slowly
so I could hear the mountains
one hundred kilometers away.
Far and away

Farther than a whisper on the wind.
Hide behind them like a satellite.
A planet
smaller than a voice.
A particle
grander than infinity.
From this breath 
and a million years before

Mountains far and away
Inside my sensitive heart.
A movement that waits
a weight that smiles
that risks all for love
and finds it in a mountain
waiting just below the surface

waiting, as a whisper, 
to be heard.

LyndiaP November 14, 2010 (PoemADay Challenge 14 of 30)

Saturday, November 13

Greenhouse Graveyard

(another dream inspired poem)

Greenhouse Graveyard

sell your flowers full of soul
personality of the petunias
desires of the dahlias
carved your bed into the hillside
carved your bed into the soil.

Stroll through rows of ravishing repetition
each one (for) you
looking like you, waiting for you
picking up dirt and making seeds grow
turn your lofting dreams into roots
turn your lightest laugh into gravity

Soil waits and soil weights grow
along a path leading nowhere
This is home.
This place that cradles unseen and light
with stillness and depth
Truth place - hybrid of sight
taking life making it darkness
(before deepest morning)
taking darkness incubating life
(from deepest mourning)
waiting for full-bloom

LyndiaP November 13, 2010
(PoemADay 13 of 30)

Friday, November 12

Atlas Afternoon

inspired by the title of a song from a kid's movie and a brand-new reference book that inspired more excitement than I expected... probably what I should have expected from a day off though.

Atlas Afternoon

nothing portable about the World
spinning on its axis.
nothing portable about this volume
12th edition atlas.
Lap's devoured - maps by the pound
legends scoured - obscure cities found
on this atlas afternoon.

LyndiaP November 12, 2010 (PoemADay Challenge 12 of 30)

Thursday, November 11


overkilling the sweet tooth

bulk bags - jellybeans, rosebuds
induces pancreatic shudders
this is my weakness
this is in my blood
even at breakfast and midnight
replacing sanity for sweets

soft chewy licorice in red
wads of wrappers - naked toffee
eager fingers stained chocolate
expert lips and impatient teeth turned blue
tasting tempting teasing tones.

stalling after sacks of sucrose
undone belts, diets, dental work
glazed eyes reflect doughnut crumbs
aching temples, tired jaw
replete stomach gurgles defeat

ravaged tastebuds already numb
unwilling insulin - overworked or on strike
stale flavours weighing down
hunger for confection subdued sugar stupor

LyndiaP November 11, 2010 (PoemADay 11 of 30)

Wednesday, November 10

November writes a Poem about Me

Today for the PoemADay challenge I was going to write about soup and sunshine. I didn't though because I remembered some unfinished ideas that were inspired by a recent viewing of Edward Burtynsky's "Oil" photography exhibit at the Alberta Art Gallery:

Reflecting on OIL

desolate beauty
seasick aesthetics cruise tailings "ponds"
toxic art with glowing prowess.
Detach myself
you draw me in closer.

In a trance I cannot comprehend
reflection appears lovely
but my heart retracts lonely
confused and longing
Portrait of destruction
continued industrial beauty
at expense of nature's duty.
Suffocating repetition
I cannot destroy you
I cannot destroy you.

Divine image of this Sacrosanct view
pedestal of smog to engulf former truths
with allies too slick and enemies few
I cannot destroy you
I cannot destroy you.

Oh desolate beauty that causes me pain
exceptional consumption
giggles insane
hollow echoes under fire
as our truth melts under tires

I am but a girl in green
dreaming of green
torn from the green
hungry for green

while you, portrait of annihilation,
completely vast, shiny false-clean
exudes a nauseating scene
junks food of green.

And I weep as the source grows shallow
lulled to sleep by the force once hallow
our deep green you made sallow.

LyndiaP November 10, 2010 (for PoemADay 10 of 30)

Tuesday, November 9


Recovery Sunrise
for my Dad*

my pen it prays for gratitude

while dawn is drawn and calls awake

my heart, in an emphatic mood,

to noble words when there's a stake.

The light still waits

So pen with ink for blood and food

silent invocation make.

Oh heart with intercessor's attitude

become the role for grandest sake...

in light I wait.

LyndiaP November 9, 2010

(*and for OneShotWednesday 19 & PoemADay 9 of 30)

Monday, November 8

Poetic Denial

Future Heart

Future Heart
what are the consequences
of my protesting?

My lips are moved in rally cries
by your regulating pulse.
My defiant speech is your echo
rhythm forever pounding.

In my blood-nourished mind
thoughts are fed
actions bred
all controlled by Future Heart.
As clairvoyant circulation
marches from your gates.

Thus my rebellion against you
Heart of Vitality
Heart of Peace,
with ignorant silence,
kills me and cuts me off
one neglected heartbeat
at a time.

LyndiaP November 8, 2010
(PoemADay 8 of 30)

Sunday, November 7

Beneath the Bookcase

Beneath the Bookcase

purple spine,
Stronger than my
tattooed with black ink
Messages, mantras deep within
never changing
Your inflexible stance
lives on the pedestal.
My shifting twisting vertebrae
sleep on the floor.

LyndiaP November 7, 2010 (PoemADay 7 of 30)

Saturday, November 6

For You

For You

A person
selfless person
who's real and thoughtful and true.
Tells a person
a me-like person
that they'll help make it through.
Then that person
genuine person

draws a map
holds the lamp
shuts the trap
licks the stamp
shares the glory
co-authors the story...

and then thanks ME
for all my trouble
(which I remark was "zero")
Pour tea, another mug full,
and hand it to my hero.

Sincerely LyndiaP Nov. 6, 2010
(PoemADay #6 of 30)

Friday, November 5

Bunny Bizzare

sometimes there's a poem you just can't explain but it gets in your way like a tornado: keeps you still and anxious and cemented to the spot...until you let it pass and for this "Bunny Bizarre" the passing was only via the changing winds of the blog-post-process. So prepare yourself for something rather different...

Bunny Bizarre

the bunny in my mind
is made of black and white
with florescent light
Florescent like my boots.

the bunny in my mind
is made of black and white
it's radioactive
radioactive in spite.
Radioactive like the News.

LyndiaP Nov.5, 2010

Diet Drill Sargent

In completely atypical form of this blog and all it stands for (except for the fact of me making this oddly negative situation into something more hilarious) but I have a set of observations to make.

You know you've just been on a ridiculous diet when:
- you look through your cupboards and all that's left for dessert is powdered skim milk, chewing gum and the cheap decoy candy that tastes like soap.
- you smell vanilla extract and have a sugar coma.
- thinking about a three course meal gives you indigestion.
- you eat a half a tuna sandwich and think you are full.
- you look forward to taking vitamin/mineral supplements for their delicious flavour but watch the calorie content.

Thursday, November 4

Four for Four!

November 4th AND my fourth poem this month! Too bad it wasn't also April 2004... then I could be 4 for 4 on 4/04/04. Alas, it is not.

This poem is a mix of things - some prose, rhyme & a haiku so a slightly untraditional Haibun poem.

Season's Secret

winter: a place where sandaled feet on green grass should strike a heart with mild fear.

I can see you're 'fraid of Winter
when you curse this interval's name.
I can see you're scared of Winter.
It emits stillness; you breath fame.

Your cold feet about this season
I assert, are without reason

feverish progress
epidemic glow of 'more'
Winter: calming cure.

LyndiaP Nov.4, 2010

Wednesday, November 3

G'morning Poems

When you know you won't have time at a reasonable hour...you must use any and all unreasonable time. Thus, a 'Good morning poem' for today. Sometimes these get a bit stream-of-conscious-y...

Finally Waking

Branches of nighttime
stretched over eyes
stooping and swaying
with archetypal force
imaginary will
the pressure of the dream-end
dimming into dawns new shadows

Bent only on release
the fragrant mask of sleep.
And beneath it
something extraordinarily plain
exquisitely waiting
in both comforting surrender of night
and the cool sweet brush of sun rays.

While copper coins overturn Nations
intent on building things that can never be
The Hero Something waits.
Still waits.
This cacophony of endless steel,
chaos expansion,
is no place for Heroes.

First someone must polish the coin
not with poison
not to see her reflection
but only to birth a surface which
shines light.

Only then from between the
diminishing coin pile
out of control growth of Nothing
into Nothing
That little space between
is the opening for Something.
for the Hero to build
Our minuscule shrine,
out of pollution and mis-intentions,
will construct the first of many places
we've always dreamed of
Right Here.

LyndiaP Nov.3, 2010

Tuesday, November 2

Taking Off and Letting Go

I've been listening to some great audio books & lectures on CD that have been talking about creativity and the creativity that comes from dreams. So this is my first ever (acknowledged/recognized/recorded) dream-inspired poem.

Taking Off and Letting Go

packing for a trip I didn't know I was taking.
I brought it all with me
more baggage than I needed
more baggage than could fit
since you brought out your
secret motorcycle.

It didn't sit in your garage
it wasn't out front on the street.

I walked
holding on to all my baggage
through the neighbour's fence
through two back yards
up a stranger's driveway
to find you.
Carrying two stuffed suitcases
small box
grocery bag
I held it all
dropped my jaw...

You used to drive a van!
You used to tell me the plan!
Now feeling stubborn and chided and lost
I sit in this awkward sidecar
yoga mat strapped to my back
purse between my knees
holding nothing
all my things left behind
on the unknown concrete
to let you lead the way.

LyndiaP Nov.2, 2010

Monday, November 1

Just Poetics

So today starts the PoemADay challenge for November.

This first one was short but they won't all be haikus (as much as I do like composing super short poems)

The patient parlance
triage-host assesses fate
emerg(e) poetry

LyndiaP Nov.1, 2010

(I realize this is a bit redundant as my Twitter feed is displayed on the right and says the same thing right now, but this is for posterity.)

Any and ALL poetic responses welcome :) (even a tangental rhyming couplet)