Nature And Invention

Nature And Invention

People And Places

People And Places

Father

Twice he took me in his hands and shook

me like a sheaf of wheat, the way a dog shakes

a snake, as if he meant to knock out my tongue

and grind it under his heel right there

on the kitchen floor.  I never remembered

what he said or the warnings he gave; she

always told me afterwards, when he

had left and I had stopped my crying.  I

was eleven that year and for seven more years

I watched his friends laughing and him

with his great hands rising and falling

with every laugh, smashing down on his knees

and making the noise of a tree when it cracks

in winter.  Together they drank chokecherry

wine and talked of dead friends and the

old times when they were young, and because

I never thought of getting old, their

youth was the first I knew of dying.

Sunday before church he would trim

his fingernails with the hunting knife

his East German cousins had sent, the same

knife he used for castrating pigs and

skinning deer: things that had nothing

to do with Sunday.  Communion once

a month, a shave every third day, a

good chew of snuff, these were the things

that helped a man to stand in the sun for

eight hours a day, to sweat through each

cold hail storm without a word, to freeze

fingers and feet to cut winter wood, to do

the work that bent his back a little more

each day toward the ground.

Last Christmas, for the first time, he

gave presents, unwrapped and bought

with pension money.  He drinks mostly coffee

now, sleeping late and shaving everyday.

Even the hands have changed: white, soft,

unused hands.  Still he seems content

to be this old, to be sleeping in the middle

of the afternoon with his mouth wide open as if there

is no further need for secrets, as if he is

no longer afraid to call his children fools

for finding different answers, different lives.

By

Dale Zieroth (1946-Present)

Born in Neepawa 

  

War And Hope

War And Hope

In Flanders Fields 

By John McCrae

Résumé

By Dorothy Parker

"In Flanders Fields" by John McCrae is a timeless poem about all the soldiers that died in World War One.  It is one of the most famous war memorial poems in the world, and is still relevant to many people today.  However, I think that "Résumé" by Dorothy Parker can be applied to more people in this day and age.  The short, eight line poem has a theme of suicide, and talks about all the downsides of attempting suicide, such as razors hurting, drugs causing cramps, gas smelling bad, and nooses giving out, and ends with the statement, "You might as well live."  I think this poem  is relevant because suicide is very common, even in countries like Canada, so denouncing it might make someone change their mind about killing themselves.  World War One, on the other hand, is long over, so even though "In Flanders Fields" can still hold relevance to people, it cannot be directly applied to anyone anymore.  In conclusion, "Résumé" has a more modern theme than "In Flanders Fields," making it a more relevant poem to the people of today.

        

Love And Loneliness

Love And Loneliness

Love

Loneliness

Love and Loneliness

(A poem with borrowed lines)

My love with her was a beautiful thing

Set to be sealed with a diamond ring

She was the light of my life; she shined so bright

But that light was put out on one fateful night

Now I sit in the graveyard, cold and lowly

Crying for one who is now lying lonely *

And as life slides past and I remain alone

The cold grip of loneliness chills me to the bone

Who will bury me when I die? **

When I'm gone, who's there to cry?

Some people may say love's a game meant to amuse

But in time, we find it's a game we always lose

* Line borrowed from "Lost Jimmy Whelan" by an unknown author

** Line borrowed from "Wabanaki Song" translated by Charles G. Leland