Halooo From Atlantic Canada
(A 20-poem Poetry Chapbook
of my adopted Atlantic heritage)
(c) Richard L. Provencher 2007
These poetry selections highlight
images, and sounds of a land filled
with heritage and pride of its citizens.
“When I write, my spirit thrills;
my heart sings; and fingers share
the excitement within.”
A One Way Trip
Bicycle wheels turn the turn
red steel frame surrounding,
spokes creaking under a heavy strain
dirty pants attached to the ankles,
he’s hot and sweaty
it’s been a long day-
heading past the feed mill
past the machinery noise,
heading into the stink
of Truro’s Rendering Plant.
Hurry home
wife and kids, cat waiting
hungry
the paycheque, a slim piece
of paper in his pocket-
they’re waiting.
Published Summer 1993 Vol. 1 No. 2
The Amethyst Review
Truro, Nova Scotia ISSN 1192-2478
**
A Spiritual Banquet
Our canoe allows a feast of pleasure
its sleek hull an arrow
piercing the stillness of a greater plan
as reflections shunted
from stately trees where cozy cottages
are a ring of jewels
this lake created from cups of freshwater
a sanctuary from grasping
life, woes and errs of human contact
left behind. We step up to Nature's
table and absorb these vegetables
tempting us
birth of a baby-blue sky,
shush of quiet ripples against
our fiber glass prow, the thrill of a
loon's lament. We hold firmly
to these moments-
dip of cherry wood paddle, our
J-strokes moving us forward
to future feasts.
Published Summer 1996
Volume 12, Number 3
The Officers' Quarterly
York-Sunbury Historical Society, Inc.
Fredericton, New Brunswick
ISSN-0848-4868
**
At St. John’s, Newfoundland
Ships at bay
meander in joyful play
awaiting the crunch of boots
thump-thumping across
these docks
awaiting the stench of
fish-catch
bread to feed his babies
to say, screw the UIC
don’t want pogey no more
just fishing, that’s my
style
my granddaddy and poppa before
me and now my turn.
The Narrows protect the boat-fleet
of all sizes, tethered as goats
swaying with the swells
waiting for the fishermen.
And the babies and the wives
hope today’s catch is gosh darn good.
Published Spring 1992 Volume 9, Number 1
The Cormorant, Saint John Campus
The University of New Brunswick
**
Bald Eagle Watching
downwards drop
shear
cliff plunging
a watery ribbon of
movement
captured by eyes
high
above
from his backdrop, bone white
eagle tree
against the green.
Through misty glaze, hidden
valley and rocky
outcrop
the Prince of stillness
begins
his lift, searching for
today’s meal.
Eager shuffle of wings.
Published July 2003 TPQ Online
The Pittsburgh Quarterly, USA
**
Cape Spear
empty the ocean ’cause
sandbars are coming,
as echoes
slimy rocks expose
their slippery touch, as
lonely friends
furnace-stocked sun
uncovers razor fish
clams and crabs,
drying out forever
seagull territory, their
white-splotched shore
and erk…erk cries
wind and soaring
Published Spring 1992
Volume Two, Number One
Cumulus, Windspeak Press
Wood Mountain, Saskatchewan
ISSN-1188-163-2
**
Camelot’s Children
They twirl swords
safely behind snow forts,
hands active
with walloping tosses
hearts preparing eagerly
for a frontal assault.
From Round Table days
King Arthur’s men charged
into enemy forces, except
today it’s in a parking lot.
An old Knight like Grandpa
remembers youthful days
of Camelot, now a Nursing
Home is his fortress
fingering snowballs only in
his dreams, the past replaced
with skidding wheels from a
rolling chair, but not to despair
closing eyes he still hears
the charge of busy feet,
swords swirling, snow hurling.
**
Cobequid Bay, Nova Scotia
Within the harbour Spring
arrives
as a parade of
ice-chunks looking like
chopped up mushrooms.
From Economy Mountain our
binoculars focus on
winter's lingering stare
and fields of hay huddle
beneath the snow
in bewildered disarray
aside the bay
weathered houses
are randomly sprinkled
crows, deer, a cat foraging
for space within our view
and blueberry fields
showcase purple tinges
through a landscape
of white crystals.
**
Crow
all you want, silhouette of darkness
chanting your exploits
from the peak of my next door
neighbour’s house
if only you could talk, what tales
to tell of your seeking, a
bum rap, bird of nightfall, stealing
eggs they say
from nesting brothers
but I know better. You’re
watching me, unsure of what I’ll do
thinking I’ll tell cousin Raven
you’re the smartest of them all
and if only Bald Eagle
would challenge you,
you’d fix him with your stare
and climb the sky like a
rocket, not needing any thermals
to launch your pride.
**
Fort Louisbourg
The sentinel is happy on guard
duty
over the fortress.
His belly is full of fish and
beans and
a fine woman in la maison
nearby
promised to meet him
later.
He’s proud of this new
land,
one day he’ll marry
and
raise strong sons,
but to-day
his eyes are alert for Les
Anglais.
They’re coming to steal his
dreams.
Published Winter 1987 Vol. 62, No. 2
Canadian Author & Bookman
Toronto, Ontario ISSN 0008-2937
**
I Do, Forever
The Margaree Valley
Is a tease of wind up turns, twists
clinging like a lover
pale birch clusters as
crowded beauty aside the
Cabot Trail highway
picnics, warm
swims at Cape Tormentine
where kisses are forever.
Now two families
joining as rosebuds on
the matrimonial cake
decorations, sandwich tables
pickles and other treats
add to the occasion
but first we whisper, “I do
until death do us part,”
the sanctity of our wedding.
During the night love
arrives with enchantment
shy smiles. Sunrise
an embrace of blessing.
**
Little Bras d’Or
burn, zealous
sun
edge to edge
…horizon’s view
misty vapours
slip
along
Published 1990 Edition 15
White Wall Review ISSN 0712-8991
Ryerson Literary Society Toronto, On
**
Little Dyke Lake, Nova Scotia
Lily pads are scattered
as green flakes
in reckless abandon
from my Fiberglass bow
their green diameters
hide under the push
of visiting waves,
pancake edges curled in
annoyance—
my canoe is an intruder.
Published Summer 1994 Vol. 2 No. 2
The Amethyst Review Truro, NS
ISSN 1192-2478
**
Rose Bay Nova Scotia
Frothing ocean is slapping
against the shoreline
winds pushing foghorn
blasts into the bay
forest silhouettes
saluting our twin-peaked cabin
footsteps in the sand as
misty outlines on the beach
seagulls swooping with
lasting messages
peek-a-boo driftwood rumpled
beach seaweed
clumped in salty disarray.
**
St. Peter’s Harbour, PEI
Whose smelly boat awaits in
fishy silence, knotted to
the wharf?
Patient in its evening lull.
The master is not yet
ready, but
soon will be-
after a night of brawling
and clawin’
he’ll come aboard
and plunder the
dock with his laughter
and early morning squint,
he will
and by golly he’ll
plow out of harbour
to the finest herring-load
nets can deliver.
Yes, he will.
Published Winter 1992-1993 No. 66
Bogg An Anglo-American Journal
ISSN: 0882-648X Arlington, VA. USA
**
Sugar Bush Spring
The forest is a humdrum
of activity, crunching snow
endures chain-laced
tractor tires, and
relentless in its forward march,
an old 80 hp
Massey-Ferguson crawls
along the branch-snapping
road, lugging a
wagon load of supplies
maple sugar land now alive
with motion-
at destination’s camp
experienced hands prepare
tubing for flowing sap,
replace firebrick
in the evaporator, start up
tapping drills.
And day’s end is blue plastic
winding around the hill
spiles linking hundreds of
hardy maple trees,
trenches in snow no longer
filled with anxious feet, a
forest now at peace
shadows overcome the
campsite that disappears
at evening’s twilight.
Nature is a silent whisper
that reclaims her space.
Published 2003 Summer Edition
Vol 52 No 1 Tower Poetry Society
Hamilton, Ontario ISSN 0495-9701
**
Summer Cottage
Shadows remind us
of sleepy dusk, as
dad's echoing call confronts
an evening chill
shouting, like a mosquito
seeking one last bite before
calling it a day.
Hurry. Lifejackets off, paddles
away, secure the canoe
mother's accompanying call
impatient.
Our clumping sounds parade
across the dock, supper's
hot and waiting-
Coming. We're coming.
Published Spring 2002, Vol. 5, No. 1
Paperplates, Toronto, ON
A Magazine for Fifty Readers
**
The Hermit of Gully Lake
In 1940 days people say Willard Kitchner
MacDonald jumped a troop train --
“No war for me,” said the young man for
peace became a friend to the wild that creeps
and hovers in the night, near Earltown, Nova
Scotia.
Hiding from stripes, army boots following
through ferns seeking his hideaway in a
forested sanctuary.
But you fooled them laddie chasing deer,
joining cottontails in the moonlight singing
along with loons, their melancholy.
Too soon eagles soar in memory, friends
missing those shy chats in the woods of
your passing.
A wintry landscape took your footsteps away
for one last savouring.
Published Feb 2004 Northern Views Magazine
New Glasgow NS (Reaches 30,000 homes
in Pictou & Colchester County)
**
Westmorland, New Brunswick
A sickness in their eyes.
Hanging fists clench and
unclench
watching my eyes of fear.
I was in the dark and must not
look back he said in the letter,
strong and full of hope.
In the visitor’s room I am
afraid, my son.
Come home someday,
little boy in a man’s prison.
Published Spring 1987, Volume 5 Number 1
The Cormorant, Saint John Campus
The University of New Brunswick
**
When the Fishermen are Gone
A wooden hull
bumps gently
against the dock
Slap of water
along the
shore
Skim of glass upon
the lake
Distant hills outline the sky
And in the cottage
mom and dad
are resting
Children no longer here
Now grown into
careers and faraway places
They remember the boat.
Published Online Aug 5/03
Pusan Web, Youngsan University
Busan, South Korea
**
Winterchill
morning hoarfrost and
early caresses from your
mantle of spider-web symmetry,
protection for dormant limbs
within –
cheek to cheek we admire
the gentleness
of Autumn’s blanket as
splayed limbs droop with their
frozen strength and
creeping mist searches with tired eyes,
togetherness a beacon as
the river bumps along…our warmth
glowing in the slumber of
these woods, your gentle kiss
upon my lips…
Published Autumn 1989 Volume III Number 2
Zymergy Literary Review, Montreal, Quebec
ISSN 0835 - 0264
* * *
© Richard L. Provencher 2008
Note:
Writing poetry has always been one of life’s pleasures. And I credit Raymond Souster, referred to as a “Toronto Poet” for inspiring me with his own work. We met in 1965 and introduced me to some very fine people who went on to personal fame; people like George Jonas, Michael Ondaatje, and Milton Acorn for whom I bought a cup of coffee. I learned to also write stories, then co-authored novels with my wife as I fought back from a stroke in 1999. My recovery continues. And I do hope readers will enjoy these poems. RLP
***
Richard and Esther Provencher invite you to view their novels written during a recovery from a stroke, which gob smacked her husband Richard in 1999.
Direct links to these novels from www.synergebooks.com are below.
FOOTPRINTS is about Joe who receives an anonymous letter stating he has a 14 year old son he was not aware of. Will this affect a recent marriage to a wonderful lady with two children who love him? His desire to find his missing son puts a strain on everyone. Unknown to Joe, an angry son is also looking for him.
http://www.synergebooks.com/ebook_footprints.html novel available now
SOMEONES SON is about Sheldon who has overcome much hurting these past three years. He has been the man of the house since his father moved out. Now dad is back and wants to spend time with him. What about Larry, his neighbor who has been like a father all this time? And mom wants to marry again? http://www.synergebooks.com/ebook_someonesson.html novel available soon
INTO THE FIRE is about Troy who has no real friends, only an imaginary one, JC. Without him, Troy might not be able to cope with living in the country, since dad took up drinking. Troy has to be the man of the house because a terrible accident killed mom three months ago. Then a mystery changes everything.
http://www.synergebooks.com/ebook_intothefire.html. novel available soon
