We are not cynical
She had been married once or twice and lived among
the rich, that was what happened to air hostesses when
there was a frisson about this job.
Her last husband came from Amsterdam, a doyen of
the fur trade, elegantly dressed, and a walking stick
With a stick, one assumes he was quite elderly.
He had bought her a flat with many rooms, too many
one of lesser background would think, then to her
surprise, he suddenly died
So what was a girl to do, sitting with a flat not all
paid for, sensibly, she rented out the flat to people
Who could pay and keep the heating on come winter
Then she met her final man just as her legs were
getting tired, he would do, she thought he had a car
and doesn't bother about a high-flying life
Thus, a love story blossomed, if not a lady and a trap
Yet, a love story of a sort, he needs her to do the talking
So he can sit in his room and write
Eternal dance of goddesses,
Fairies and divine hostesses;
Milky Way and the entire space,
All that heaven and earth embrace;
Orchids that evince enchantment,
Butterflies in pure detachment;
Beasts wild and tame in unison,
Birds in their migration mission;
Creatures within oceans and seas,
Shores of tranquility and peace;
Weather transitions; season-shifts,
Rhythmic gifts; erroneous rifts...
All drink from the cup of nature,
In turn, her endless will, nurture...!
30 March 2022
Coming back home on a repatriation flight
Overwhelmed by the shield and double masks blurring my sight
Making my way home to escape the blight
I could not wait to feel the warmth of my tropical sunlight
Never was I so happy as when we landed on the site
Glad to be home but on the plane we had to sit tight
Because quarantine forms had to be filled out right
And Covid-19 tests results had to be presented in black and white
Captain and hostesses were flexing their might
Keeping us in plane prison way into the night
Hating to wait I began to indite
Of how coming back home was such a huge plight
Making travel plans now no longer a delight
Everything now high-jacked in this pandemic fight
Moved out to the country, isolated and without a car, I don’t know what I would have done without my new friends Mrs. Juhas and Mrs. Gatien. They forced me to call them by their first names, it only became easier once the friendship deepened. Ida took me into town for grocery shopping every week. We’d do the rounds based on the sales flyers from A&P, IGA and Dominion. Vi only had two children compared to my six and Ida’s seven. Every week we had a cookday alternating with Vi and Ida, one week at our place the next at theirs. Hostesses buying the food and deciding on the meals to make: chili con carne, cabbage rolls, spaghetti sauce… The priority was obvious, it was more important to buy a freezer than a washing machine.
hungry bellies fed
families on a budget
smooth production line
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
How can so much beauty go unnoticed set plainly before our eyes
While no beauty amongst man’s creations can equally compare?
Mother Nature at her best provides constantly, serenity for the soul
On this arduous journey undertaken, all weary souls yearn for rest
They thirst for a connect with essence, not a material world
Sit and observe butterflies dance amongst an assortment of blossoms
They perform for your eyes only; in the ever changing moments of time
Feel the warmth of radiating peace as it explodes within your soul!
With not a care or worry in the world to distract from the warm golden day
Lovely wings flutter gaily, dressed in finest, like guests at a feast
Where hostesses present richest nectar from the array of wondrous delights
Served in a divine atmosphere made so by fragrant perfume
They fulfill a purpose of joy delivering which sets the soul aflame
With fire that burns steadily, begging to commune in kind
And if you watch very closely, your heart and mind attuned
You can hear in peaceful silence
The sweet song which their essence sings
~*~
American Born Congressmen
Drive Enviable Farrari's-
German Hostesses Inherit Jeeps!
Kentuckians
Lease
Mules
Nightly,
Offending Police!
Quiet Republicans Seem Troubled;
Unless
Vacationing Women Xylophonists,
Yodel
Zippingly!
I smell the tar burning in the heat-wave
The cigarette almost lit itself
Spontaneous combustion pirouetting
Into stacks of smoke, rising steam
From the pavement like breath in winter
Travelling with half a name, on the road again
The crowds of people like flocking birds
Almost devil-red in colour
Meaningless mumbles, an applause of tongues
Forming like sheep into lines and rows
A fully formed dance troupe, they never learned
Showing half my passport to the hostesses like escorts
Foreign rhymes which they think I don’t understand
The cigarette writhing in the cold
Slowly turning into vapour, an eruption of clouds
Looking like bundles, the way the people dress here
Asking with gagged mouths for half my name
Half my nationality for where half my loyalty lies
If only half and half could make a whole
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