Best Fundy Poems
Returning home again after many years away
I find our secret path along the Fundy Bay
That happy place where long ago we played
Where all our dreams and promises were made
Once again I lie down where daises grow
In fields above the banks where salt winds blow
Golden memories rush through my hungry soul
Returning pieces of my heart lost long ago
I close my eyes recalling all the things we did
Just the way they were when we were kids
And I know without a doubt that you are here
As your love for me falls from my eyes in tears
We lie like angels looking up at clouds of cream
As we watch them take the shape of all our dreams
We laugh so hard at all the things we do and say
To us life is just a stage a place to laugh and play
We find the trail that takes us down to meet the ocean
Where we swim in waves of jubilant emotions
Then we walk along the shore together hand-in-hand
And we write our love forever in the sand
It stands on a hill overlooking the bay drenched in ocean spray
That cedar shake house where I used to live high above the Fundy bay
A well trodden path leads from its door on to a winding road
Flanked by ditches where Morning Glories and Sea Salt roses grow
That winding road comes to an end at the shore of ‘Evermore’
A magical place where seagulls soar above the ocean’s roar
Lavender walls rise high in the sky through a veil of silver mist
Where the ocean shatters and falls in pieces against those lofty cliffs
And those footprints I pressed so long ago still lead me to this day
To that old house high on a hill overlooking the Fundy Bay
It is a place where the land bows down to kiss the misty tide
Where rolling waves bring memories of the place my heart resides
~~~
I stand before you after all these years
Amid the ocean brine with misty tears
On these old banks above the Fundy Bay
With all those words I never got to say
Wild daisies spread themselves across your grave
Where lies the fallen marker that I made
When I was but a child and new to death
In grief so deep it nearly took my breath
That broken house still sits above the bay
Now weathered by those many stormy days
Those years we walked along that rocky shore
Those years you saw me safely to my door
And now that I am old I do believe
You were an angel sent by God to me
...
In Loving Memory
Written: February 2nd, 2016
In so many shades of black and white, I find you after all these years;
leaning against that old weathered clapboard schoolhouse,
high on the hill overlooking the Fundy Bay,
and again, I inhale the fragrance of those wild sea salt roses
and feel the ocean mist upon my face, as I look out at those
sunbeams dancing on the tops of those rolling waves.
There you are, in your hand-me-down dress,
with socks pooling around the tops of your shoes.
There, third row to the far left, sporting a home made bowl haircut,
and a smile of utter joy.
After all years, in so many shades of black and white,
I find that little lost girl, and I am a kid again.
In so many shades of black white, I find the true colors that are me.
~~~
Author: Elaine Cecelia George
On a day bathed in so many shades of misty grey
There upon those rugged cliffs above the Fundy Bay
Heart pounding like the thunder in those crashing waves
Trembling lips dripping with heart felt words I could not say
So shy, I was a teenage girl so much in love
My soul on fire like that blazing stormy sky above
Where lighting crackled and sizzled in a burning flame
As his yearning eyes searched mine there in that wind swept rain
Taking cover in that shack with broken window panes
Where tattered pieces of old lace curtains still remained
Peels of nervous laughter silenced in that broken frame
As the storm outside raged against us all in vain
When with tears of stormy weather still running down his face
His lips found mine there in that that old abandoned place
A moment so electrifying it seared my soul
With a memory that haunts me now that I am old
When stormy weather lets me see him as he was that day
There on those lofty cliffs above the Fundy Bay
My heart pounding like the thunder in those crashing waves
As I drift in the beauty of those shades of misty grey
We bound down the stairs, out into the light-of-day, and into the blue of the
misty breezes, heavily laden with the smell of wild sea salt roses that grow in
perfusion along the winding road, that bends and turns in gentle lifts and dips to
the other side of the bay, where it crosses the bridge and rises up and winds
away, over the hill.
Overhead the seagulls screech and glide over the ocean spray that washes on
the rocks on the lower banks behind our house along the Fundy Bay, where we
run like the wind through the fields of fresh cut hay and make our way to the
rocky mantle below .
There in the volcanic plateau, worn smooth as glass by the constant rolling
weight of the ocean, is our pool, known by all in our village, as ‘Lizza’s Bathtub’,
created by the eruption of the earth’s inner core, millennia’s ago.
We slip into the still, salty water that has been warmed beneath the blazing sun,
and float with the perry winkles and tiny crabs and listen to the sound of the
ocean, that roars beneath us as it leaves in the receding tide, while we drift
away, in our minds, my little brother the ‘King’ and I, the ‘Queen’ for a day on
the ‘Fundy Bay’.
I remember…
Shimmering gold ribbons
Draped over the
Glassy surface of the bay of Fundy
On a black see through
Summer night
I was new to love
Shy beneath your penetrating gaze
At a loss for words
And you…
Telling me my eyes spoke volumes
And the tears that welled up in them
Against my will
Eventually falling over the edge of innocence
Into adolescence
As your whispers
And my sighs
Melted on the rippling crest
Of those waves
That came softly
To break upon the shore
As the pale moon looked down
In utter silence
Author: Elaine George
Written: June, 2014
among you and I and among us all
remains a feeling of shallow intoxication
that seems to play on and on and on in our respective heads
as everyone important to us has gone on to some beautiful destiny
I sit here amongst the caucasion sleeves of paper on the floor of my chamber
the numbness of the so called "art" on the radio
mommy, I have done it
as the winter approaches, we batten down ourselves for the impending darkness
snow ensconces the dull tundra of all the acres
understandably blundered by the wings of burden and shame
I toil with the literature of my past and the science of my future
I thought I found you at least a dozen times, but you weren't you
daddy, throw another log on the fire
is there mercy in this chaos and this uncertainty?
will I ever retain escape velocity and leave this earth?
I must leave this place and find sanctity elsewhere
no doctor revive me, no professional conversationalists, please.
mommy, daddy, take me home.
the shoreline thunders, with the red clay -- imitating dover
I stare down at the mercurial wash of the crushing tides
special sequins rain down into the fundy sea below
I shall wake the wight inside of me
and destroy the pain inside of thee.
mommy, daddy -- rape the teeth from within my head
to paint a better picture of the son you thought you knew
brother, I miss you and your insolent charm.
but little monster, I think I will stay for you.
Returning home again after many years away
I find our secret path along the Fundy Bay
That happy place where long ago we played
Where all our dreams and promises were made
Once again I lie down where daisies grow
In fields above the banks where salt winds blow
Golden memories rush through my hungry soul
Returning pieces of my heart lost long ago
I close my eyes recalling all the things we did
Just the way they were when we were kids
And I know without a doubt that you are here
As your love for me falls from my eyes in tears
We lie like angels looking up at clouds of cream
As we watch them take the shape of all our dreams
We laugh so hard at all the things we do and say
To us life is just a stage a place to laugh and play
We find the trail that takes us down to meet the ocean
Where we swim in waves of jubilant emotions
Then we walk along the shore together hand-in-hand
And we write our love forever in the sand
~~~~~
Elaine Cecelia George, of Canada
Entry for: Frank Herrera's contest - First Love
Awarded First Place
Twere a blisterin day, on da Fundy Bay, aboard da ‘ Black Angel of da Blue”,
with a crew of 32, whilst resting a spell, wid a thunderin clap of grog ,
when da Jack o’ Cups , his Jib a hangin, spotted a Jolly Roger aft.
Aye! ye coulda sinked me! When dem thar scallywags gave chase.
So we pumped da bilge, droppin a load of crap in thar path, weighed anchor,
turned three sheets to da wind and tried to outrun dem thar sprougs,
but me mateys' deadlights twere blinded by da grog -
as useless as dem thar lanlubbers, and soon dem thar scallywags
overhauled da ‘ Black Angel’.
So! wid a heave to, we blasted dem thar swabs wid da balls off da Brass Monkey...six pounders dey be, but nary-a-one hit da mark and nary a one came back. Dem thar scuffeys' didn’t aim ta sink us, fur da botty be all dey be wantin.
Arrr! Fur sur now we be black spotted,
but I not be ready fur Davey Jones locker yet.
One more clap of thunder be what I be needin ta clear me groggy mind
and figger a way outta dis hornwaggle.
So I spliced da mainbrace and it come ta me in a flash,
da only cargo we be a carryin be Rummmmmmmmmmmm.
so we set dem thar kegs adrift and it wernt long afore dem thar
sprougs was a drinkin grog and a fine time be had by all.
~~~~~
Inspired by: Paula Swanson's contest
Awarded: Second Place
Author's Note:
In order to understand this narrative, you need to understand Pirate's language. You can
find it on the web - just type Pirate language in your search engine.
I remember…
The long rocky finger I lived on that stretched
out from the mainland in the Bay of Fundy and
the soggy little white house covered in ocean brine
that did its best to shelter us from the great bi-polar Atlantic Ocean
that would on some days roar and thrash and throw itself against
our rocky foundation, splintering itself into endless liquid shards
that would climb high into the sky, then fall on my up-turned face,
drenching me into a state of near hypothermia.
There I would stand, squinting through burning eyes,
unable to pull myself away from that wrath, when suddenly -
the sun would disappear from the sky, causing the air temperature
to plummet, leaving me shaking like a leaf as the Great roaring Atlantic
fell silent and laid itself down as flat as a sheet of glass as that massive
grey monster approached.
Off in the distance, I would hear a buoy-bell timidly ringing in a feeble attempt to warn me of the impending danger that was quietly devouring the mainland, our little house, and the Great Atlantic, as the FOG came silently creeping in.
I caress the blooms of the lilac bush and breathe their sweet fragrant breath. Here in my garden where spring has risen from the melting heart of winter’s death. And when a gentle breeze kisses my face, I am simply blown away, to that magical place, where you wait for me, along the Fundy Bay.
Bare foot, I skip down a Granite paved road, flanked with ditches where morning glories grow, as I move through a mist of ocean brine, streaked with rainbows that melt in the morning sunshine and drip from the blooms of a every Sea Salt rose.
The house - its asphalt shingles, sparkling in many shades of grey - stands firmly on its hardwood pillars buried deep down in the clay, the same clay I mold into a tiny earthen vase, that joins the jars of pollywogs and dandelion garlands, all lined up on the old root- cellar doors, where I play.
And in a cloud of purple perfusion, again, I breathe the breath from the lilac bush that grows there, beside the brook, as those white lace curtains flutter out the kitchen window, and beat against the window frame - fanning the heat from those fresh baked apple pies - as another tear falls from my eye.
Then, from a distant pine, I hear the white throated sparrow singing, her melancholy tune and the clap of the screen door as I step into that room, a child again breathing the breath from a lilac bloom.
“Mom….. ……………. I’m home!”
It was a cold winter day on the Fundy Bay when the wind and the Ocean Raged
You were a child with the sweetest smile who walked through a storm for a mile
Over the frozen sand as I held your hand, we made our way to the land
Up over the banks past the shipyard tanks and a pile of old wooden planks
Homeward bound as the snow fell down and wood shavings blew all around
I held your hand like a grown man the way that your Mother planned
Keeping you warm from the day I was born together we weathered the storm
I was made by a hand, with wool from a lamb, with love knitted in every strand
As soft as a kitten and Oh! So smitten, I...Just one of pair of mittens.
April 12, 2018
Author: Elaine Cecelia George
Wood burning
In a Franklin stove-
The smell of yeast
And rising dough-
Lace curtains
Fluttering-
In an open window
Where soft
Ocean breezes blow-
With the scent of
The wild rose-
Pastel rainbows
Dancing
On the walls-
Reflections made
Where sunbeams
Fall-
Upon a crystal vase
Where lilacs bloom-
And fill the room-
With lavender
Perfume-
Heaven!
Here on earth-
But a thought away-
In a place where love
Was made-
In that old house
In grandma’s kitchen-
High above
The Fundy Bay-
A million memories fall like crystal raindrops on a summer day
as I make my way along the winding road above the Fundy Bay
where you wait for me beyond the gate where wild flowers grow
In an open field as old as time where gentle ocean breezes blow
once again I am a child resting in the arms of your sweet embrace
As you erase my tears with your gentle loving kisses on my face
and the torment and the anguish that have troubled me so long
are finally put to rest in this rightful place that knows no wrong
For it is now with 3 score beneath my wayward feet I come to realize
that all the roads I travel still lead me to this place my heart resides
and as I lay the lilacs that you loved while on earth upon your grave
I bow before you now and thank you for the everlasting love you gave.
In Loving memory of my precious Grandmother ‘Cecelia Evans’