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Ellis Craig Poem
KNOWN JUST TO GOD AND ME
The Unknown Soldier
Rows and rows of snow white stones, no names upon their face.
Thousands more who went to war and left no earthly trace.
One unknown for all unknowns, Canada for thee,
I am the unknown soldier, known just to God and me.
Mother country’s call to war awakes a young man’s dream.
Escape from toil on barren soil to a uniform’s esteem.
No thoughts of mothers losing sons, just of a chance to roam,
A year to spare, go over there, defeat the Hun - come home!
Dark train rolling through the night toward the eastern sea.
Young soldiers seeking glory, not knowing what will be.
Last sight of home, across the foam, where the unleashed dogs of war
Will soon declare no glory there, just mud and blood and gore.
In Vimy’s tunnels warriors stand awaiting dreaded dawn,
Each one a knight in someone’s eyes, each one a front row pawn.
The hand of fate soon to decide the minutes or the years
Left to the souls who leave dark holes to face their greatest fears.
Comrades all around me fall, each fought his private war.
With will and might we take the height where others failed before.
Amid the sleet, the roar, the heat, the chaos all around,
I do not feel the bullet strike that drives me to the ground.
Buried in a blanket shroud, forgotten and alone,
“A Soldier of the Great War” inscribed upon my stone.
But then I’m chosen to return, across the same grey sea,
Back from my hell of shock and shell, back from the Ridge Vimy.
I lie in state and share my fate with mourners passing by.
A moment spared for one who dared, a tear in every eye.
From where I came and my own name known just to God and me,
In a hallowed space in a state of grace, I will spend eternity.
And once a year again I hear the cadenced cannons boom,
And feel the love from those above, the poppies on my tomb.
A country’s grief for her lost sons who kept her strong and free,
The Canada I died for upon the Ridge Vimy.
Rows and rows of snow white stones, no names upon their face.
Thousands more who went to war and left no earthly trace.
One unknown for all unknowns, Canada for thee,
I am the unknown soldier, known just to God and me.
I am the unknown soldier, known just to God and me.
Ellis Pringle Craig
June, 2019
Copyright © Ellis Craig | Year Posted 2024
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Ellis Craig Poem
We came from the beginning, shrouded mists of time and space,
And in this vast and northern clime each found our sacred place.
We were our country’s pioneers, the people of the land,
We lit the flame and then became the first Canadians!
We came on ships across the sea; with help from those before,
Pushed frontiers three hundred years, a new world to explore.
From sea to sea to Arctic Sea, found how far we extend,
Trekked age-old trails, laid down steel rails – the next Canadians!
The maple leaf upon our flag, the poppies John McCrae,
The silver cup Lord Stanley, and the chalice from Earl Grey.
Our Snowbirds soaring up the sky and Terry on the run.
As one we stand, we built this land – we are Canadian!
Voyageurs in birch bark canoes who braved the wilderness.
Men of the North West Mounted on their Great March to the West.
The railroad running underground toward the northern sun,
We are the true north strong and free – we are Canadian!
We are Bishop in the air and to keep our country free,
Took the Ridge called Vimy, came ashore at Normandy.
Warriors shedding blood and tears, the ones who did not bend,
We line the Heroes Highway – we are Canadian!
We are our schooner Bluenose, the poppies John McCrae,
The silver cup Lord Stanley, and the chalice from Earl Grey.
Our Snowbirds soaring up the sky and Terry on the run.
As one we stand, we built this land – we are Canadian!
Roberta Bondar, Clara Hughes, Buffy Ste Marie.
Viola Desmond on our Ten, Lucy Maud Montgomery.
The suffragettes who won their fight to vote beside the men.
Women standing proud and tall – we are Canadian!
We are the broken treaties and the promises not kept.
Stains upon our hist’ry, the tears still being wept.
We are also Gord Downie, who vowed to make amends,
When made aware we learn to care – we are Canadian!
Chris Hatfield’s vista sea to sea, the poppies John McCrae,
The silver cup Lord Stanley, and the chalice from Earl Grey.
Our Snowbirds soaring up the sky and Terry on the run.
As one we stand, we built this land – we are Canadian!
All now keepers of the flame, we share this mighty land
With those from every place on Earth who now beside us stand.
We all live on this blessed soil that to death we will defend.
Diversified yet unified – we are Canadian!
We welcome those who seek our shores, the comers who are new.
Everyone of us through time from elsewhere came like you.
And down the years the message grows your sons and daughters send:
As one we stand, we built this land – we are Canadian!
As one we stand, we built this land – we are Canadian!
As one we stand, we LOVE this land – we are Canadian!
Copyright © Ellis Craig | Year Posted 2023
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Ellis Craig Poem
SILENTLY AWAY (LORRIE)
AS I LIE HERE IN THE DARKNESS IN MY YEARS THEY CALL DECEMBER,
I SEE HER FACE BEFORE ME, HEAR THE LAUGHTER I REMEMBER.
FEEL THE PAIN DEEP IN MY HEART THAT NEVER GOES AWAY.
TASTE THE TEARS UPON MY FACE, DREAD THE COMING OF EACH DAY.
SHE WAS LORRAINE WHEN I MET HER, SOON BEGAN TO CALL HER LORRIE,
AND WE BEGAN TO TURN EACH PAGE, CREATING OUR LOVE STORY.
ENERGY AND LAUGHTER FILLING EACH SUCCEEDING DAY,
NOT NOTICING THE DAYS OF YOUTH SLIP SILENTLY AWAY.
MIDDLE YEARS GONE QUICKLY, THE YEARS THEY CALL JULY.
HOMES AND JOBS AND CHILDREN, EMPTY NESTERS BY AND BY.
TIME AND TREASURE THEN TO SPEND, GOOD HEALTH, DREAMS COMING TRUE,
FORGETTING LIFE IS FRAGILE, DAYS MAY BE MANY OR BE FEW.
THEN LATER YEARS LIKE GLOW OF YOUTH SLIP SILENTLY AWAY.
MORNING RUNS BECOME JUST WALKS, HAIR SLOWLY TURNS TO GREY.
ENERGY TO LETHARGY, GOOD LOOKS TO SLOW DECAY.
THE WATERFALL AROUND THE BEND, CLOSER EVERY DAY.
EACH DAY A TIME TO CHERISH, TO ENJOY THE NOW NOT NEVER,
BELIEVING THAT OUR EBBING TIME COULD SOMEHOW LAST FOREVER.
EACH PASSING YEAR ANOTHER YEAR TO ADD TO THOSE REMEMBERED,
BUT FOR HER THEY STOPPED FOREVER IN HER YEARS THEY CALL NOVEMBER .
FOR THEN CAME THAT DREADFUL MORNING, I FOUND LORRIE COLD BESIDE ME,
HELD HER HEAD BETWEEN MY FINGERS, HELD OUR MEMORIES INSIDE ME,
AND THEN I KNEW FOR CERTAIN, CLOSING OF THAT AWFUL DAY,
MY REASON TO KEEP LIVING HAD SLIPPED SILENTLY AWAY.
AND ONCE A YEAR THEY TAKE ME TO THE PLACE WHERE LORRIE'S LYING.
MY HANDS WARM THE STONE ABOVE HER, FEEL SHE KNOWS I’M CRYING.
HOPE MY TEARS WILL TRICKLE DOWN AND IN THE EARTH THEY'LL FIND HER,
PRAY THAT SOON THEY'LL BRING ME TO FOREVER LIE BESIDE HER.
SO I LIE HERE IN THE DARKNESS IN MY YEARS THEY CALL DECEMBER.
I SEE LORRIE'S FACE BEFORE ME, HEAR THE LAUGHTER I REMEMBER.
FEEL THE PAIN DEEP IN MY HEART THAT NEVER GOES AWAY.
TASTE THE TEARS UPON MY FACE, DREAD THE COMING OF EACH DAY.
BUT THE DARKNESS THAT I LIE IN WILL BECOME ETERNAL DAY,
AND THE GULF THAT NOW DIVIDES US WILL MELT SILENTLY AWAY.
SOON THE DARKNESS THAT I LIE IN WILL BECOME ETERNAL DAY,
AND THE GULF THAT NOW DIVIDES US WILL MELT SILENTLY AWAY.
ELLIS CRAIG, DECEMBER 2022.
Copyright © Ellis Craig | Year Posted 2024
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Ellis Craig Poem
THE EVER DWINDLING FEW - USA Version
Beach Omaha
At Omaha an old man stands and limps down to the shore,
Where on this sand he crawled and ran so many years before.
The skirl of pipes still in the air, the ceremony o'er,
He knows the ghosts who haunt this coast in the fading wake of war.
Huddled in their landing craft, together yet alone,
Some join a cheer to quell the fear that turns young limbs to stone.
Others lost within the thought that chills them to the bone,
Not knowing if they'll see again the fields and hills of home.
A sudden stop, the ramp is dropped , Omaha revealed,
Bullets frothing water, flying shards of red hot steel.
A thrown grenade, a shattered leg, his private war soon done,
Sheltered by a parapet, he prayed the beach be won.
Young men who fell upon this beach who lie not far away,
Are still young men among his ken, not having aged a day.
They gave their all when duty called, hair never turned to grey.
They grew not old as he grew old, no feeble steps for they.
For their lost years he'd shed his tears, he'd been there yesterday,
Where snow white stones mark where the bones of all the young men lay.
They cried “Hurray!” and “USA!” and braved the gates of hell,
Now walking slowly down the beach he wanders where they fell.
Where chaos reigned and lives were claimed by death's uneven hand,
The shore of war is quiet now, a peaceful stretch of sand.
Old men in chairs with snow white hair are wheeled down to the shore,
They are the ever dwindling few, soon there will be no more.
Some there among are the proud sons of those who fought before,
Believing they were there to win the war to end all wars.
But strife will always be our lot and war will have its day.
Silent prayers for those who dared with home so far away.
So once a year some come back here where many came before.
Warriors then, now ancient men who gather near the shore
To honour those who lie in rows, and comrades still beside.
A time to grieve and to receive a grateful nation's pride.
They are the ever dwindling few,
Soon there will be no more.
Ellis Pringle Craig, 2023.
Copyright © Ellis Craig | Year Posted 2024
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Ellis Craig Poem
THIN LINE BLUE
Sworn to serve and to protect, the dedicated few,
We are the ones who stand between, we are the thin line blue.
When towers fall and dust clouds pall and others flee and pray,
Among the first responders, we come the other way.
Standing tall we heed the call, do what we're sworn to do,
Placing others before selves, we are the thin line blue.
A shooter rampant in a school, most dreaded of all calls.
We dare not wait for backup, we have to walk the halls.
Death lurking 'round each corner, there instead of you.
To save our threatened children, we are the thin line blue .
We stand upon the front steps, clergy by our side,
To gently tell a mother that a child of hers has died.
Killed in a senseless auto wreck, like so many died before,
And we dread to bring the heartache to the mother at the door.
When we pass out the tickets, or give the cautions to
The speeders and the drinkers we are the thin line blue.
Doing all we can to stop the carnage and the pain,
To keep from standing on those steps again and then again.
Domestic strife, husband, wife, loathe to interfere,
We do our best to reason, ease the anger and the fear.
Danger ever present, never sure what each might do,
With no-one else to turn to, we are the thin line blue.
When would be tyrants dare defy the peoples' chosen will,
Mobs become our enemy, prepared to maim and kill.
Some may be called to give their all, so many facing few,
We may bend but dare not break, we are the thin line blue.
When we leave our homes each day, unknown tasks to face,
Our spouses know there is a chance that we may need God's grace
To come back to our loved ones, our spirits to renew,
And for a while to leave behind the fragile thin line blue.
Sometimes at night we cannot sleep, we cannot put away
The memories of what we saw or had to do that day.
You do not know, you cannot know just what it takes to do
All that is expected, to hold the thin line blue.
And when a comrade gives their all we come from far away,
Marching in our hundreds, sitting in our seats to pray.
Knowing there may come a time it may be our turn too,
To be honoured by our colleagues, who walk the thin line blue.
Then when our twenty years or more are mem'ries left behind,
Some spirits may be broken, others filled with pride.
Some will be those who gave the most, did then what we now do.
They rolled the dice and sacrificed, they were the thin line blue.
Sworn to serve and to protect, the dedicated few,
We are the ones who stand between, we are the thin line blue.
Ellis Pringle Craig, May, 2022
Copyright © Ellis Craig | Year Posted 2023
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Ellis Craig Poem
OLD MYSIE
“As crazy as Old Mysie” my grandma used to say.
Land company made promises, too good to be true,
To fisherfolk from Isle of Skye, it seemed the thing to do.
Cleared up land and new built homes, tools for every need.
New colony in progress, the future guaranteed.
Marjorie MacDonald, called Mysie by and by,
Eight years old and living on the Scottish Isle of Skye.
Her family and others trapped in endless poverty,
Willing then to take the risk and cross the northern sea.
Dropped into New Brunswick woods in late November snow.
No cleared land, no roofs on huts, nowhere else to go.
Betrayed by greed, with every need not met by those who knew
They would not have the skills or tools to start their lives anew.
A raging winter took its toll, the deaths were forty-eight.
Three hundred more so very near death's ever waiting gate.
Land company not caring if they lived or if they died,
No way to dig the needed graves, dead kept in trees up high.
As year by year the ones still left gave up and moved away,
Mysie and her brother Charles stayed by their stream called Tay.
When he died she carried him eight miles upon her back,
To a consecrated graveyard far from their forest tract.
Back alone to forest home while shedding bitter tears.
No-one there to love or care, for all the lonely years.
No human voice to call hello, no help if needed then.
So many memories to quell, so many graves to tend.
Wide brimmed hat and ragged clothes, no shoes upon her feet.
She made her way from day to day through cold or rain or heat.
Refusing offers to come in, might choose the barn to stay.
Perhaps too painful to come in then have to go away.
Home made brooms prepared from twigs, she carried trade or sale.
Berries picked along her way to offer from her pail.
Sitting on a thousand steps forgetting for a while
The solitude and sadness felt in each unending mile.
The Tay and Nashwaak valleys, all the way to Miramichi.
Everyone along the way would know that it was she.
Trademark hat and piercing eyes, long dress to the ground.
Face reflecting long hard years, no smile to be found.
Tough as frozen leather she endured where most could not.
Every day a hardship, every day a battle fought
Against the pain, the snow, the rain, danger often nigh,
Night sounds in the forest, the unknown to terrify.
It's said that she told fortunes, one more thing to sell.
Some people said she was a witch, a harbinger from hell.
Some just called her crazy, eccentric safe to say,
A legend in her bygone time, a legend still today.
The ghost of dark eyed Mysie may still wander near the Tay,
Where the bones of her companions from the Isle of Skye still lay.
Close your eyes and feel her tears, the loneliness, despair,
Years and years the only one with no-one left to care.
Close your eyes and feel her tears, the loneliness, despair,
Years and years the only one with no-one left to care.
“As crazy as Old Mysie” my grandma used to say.
Ellis Craig, 2023.
Copyright © Ellis Craig | Year Posted 2024
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Ellis Craig Poem
TIME IS LIKE A COSMIC RIVER
Time is like a cosmic river running to a somewhere sea,
As wide as all existence, long as eternity.
Time to be or not to be, time either foe or friend.
Always in the background, always ready to transcend.
Time has no dimension, it is something we can’t see.
We cannot feel it, taste it, hear it, but we know that it must be.
Invisible yet constant, being both the now and then,
Just by looking in a mirror, we can see that it amends.
We know time goes not backward, can’t return to change things done.
Can’t change defeats to vict’ries, change battles lost to won.
Hours, minutes, seconds, the sum of all things done,
Each needing a decision, including taking none.
Each old and yellowed photograph in album or display,
Marks one moment back in time, asked to stop and stay.
Told to be still and not to smile, complied then walked away,
Not realizing that moment would be history today.
Time is wealth that’s given, to everyone the same,
Coal miner in the underground, tycoon in his plane.
Each day a new beginning, hours always twenty-four.
We can waste them or embrace them but we cannot ask for more.
We cherish certain places, go back many years along,
To find that all those places are either changed or gone.
Hour after hour, day by each succeeding day,
All the places that we knew changed silently away.
We can’t borrow from tomorrow, cannot undo yesterday.
We can only live each second as time strips them all away.
Each tiny intersection to keep on or change direction,
Alterations by an actor in a universal play.
We measure time in hours, days and months and years.
Centuries, millennia, the distance between spheres.
A hundred thousand light years just to cross our Milky Way,
A dot within the universe, time and distance in our way.
On Earth time keeps its order, moving neither fast nor slow,
To keep us all from chaos, when to stop and when to go.
When to sow and when to reap, to sleep and when to rise,
A time to stand upon one’s ground, a time to compromise.
Time is like a cosmic river running to a somewhere sea,
As wide as all existence, long as eternity.
And in those final moments when eternity arrives,
The sum of our decisions, the stories of our lives.
Ellis Craig, 2024.
Copyright © Ellis Craig | Year Posted 2024
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Ellis Craig Poem
THE EVER DWINDLING FEW
At Juno Beach
At Juno Beach an old man stands and limps down to the shore,
Where on this sand he crawled and ran so many years before.
The skirl of pipes still in the air, the ceremony o'er,
He knows the ghosts who haunt this coast in the fading wake of war.
Huddled in their landing craft, together yet alone,
Some join a cheer to quell the fear that turns young limbs to stone.
Others lost within the thought that chills them to the bone,
Not knowing if they'll see again the fields and hills of home.
A sudden stop, the ramp is dropped and Juno is revealed,
Bullets frothing water, flying shards of red hot steel.
A thrown grenade, a shattered leg, his private war soon done,
Sheltered by a parapet, he prayed the beach be won.
Young men who fell upon this beach who lie not far away
Are still young men among his ken, not having aged a day.
They gave their all when duty called, hair never turned to grey.
They grew not old as he grew old, no feeble steps for they.
For their lost years he'd shed his tears, he'd been there yesterday,
Where snow white stones mark where the bones of all the young men lay.
They cried "Hurrah!" for Canada and braved the gates of hell,
Now walking slowly down the beach he wanders where they fell.
Where chaos reigned and lives were claimed by death's uneven hand,
The shore of war is quiet now, a peaceful stretch of sand.
Old men in chairs with snow white hair are wheeled down to the shore,
They are the ever dwindling few, soon there will be no more.
Some there among are the proud sons of those who fought before,
Believing they were there to win the war to end all wars.
But strife will always be our lot and war will have its day.
Silent prayers for those who dared with home so far away.
So once a year some come back here where many came before.
Warriors then, now ancient men who gather near the shore
To honour those who lie in rows, and comrades still beside.
A time to grieve and to receive a grateful nation's pride.
They are the ever dwindling few,
Soon there will be no more.
Ellis Pringle Craig, 2022.
Copyright © Ellis Craig | Year Posted 2024
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Ellis Craig Poem
Immortality
I was not. I was. I am. I will be. I will not be.
I was not, but my star stuff was. Part of the universe. Part of the wheeling galaxies and all the voids between. Finding its way from countless origins to the earth itself.
Then, suddenly, I was. My star stuff came alive, added other star stuff, grew, and gained identity. And I became who I am.
And for a brief moment in time, I will be – feeling, knowing, aware, until my star stuff returns to the dust from whence it came.
And then I will not be. But my star stuff will be on or in the earth, for a time, unknowing and eventually unknown, while the wheeling galaxies and uncountable stars await.
And when the sun reaches out in its death throes and consumes the earth, countless millennia from now, my star stuff will be released back into the universe from whence it came.
And the process will begin again and will ever be. And is that not immortality?
Copyright © Ellis Craig | Year Posted 2023
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Ellis Craig Poem
CHANDRA
Down to my last dollar, staring at the floor,
As lonely near two million as on Sable Island’s shore.
Another grey Toronto day, the saddest I had known,
No place now to lay my head, so very far from home.
She sat down at my table, said I’ve been watching you.
I know what you are feeling, I’ve been lonely too.
My name’s Chandra Kelly, call me Candy others do.
I’ve got the time, I’ve got the dime, here’s what I’ll do for you.
She said that she would drive me home, did not know what to say.
Didn’t dare to tell her it’s two thousand miles away.
An inner voice said here’s a choice, what else have you to do?
Homesick after two long months this city’s not for you.
Up Don Valley Parkway I fell asleep, came to,
Heading east on 401 I wondered how she knew?
I’m from the East and I can tell that you are from there too.
Go back to sleep, I’ll wake you up at Riviere du Loup.
That night I slept in the back seat, she in a cheap motel.
Next morning south without a word, I didn’t need to tell.
Across the Canso Causeway, then near the lakes Bras d’Or
We shared the same motel room, I slept upon the floor.
Argentia Ferry overnight, not lonely any more,
We shared a tiny cabin, no longer on the floor.
Next day I wondered how she knew to take each turning place,
To take me to Conception Bay, my hometown Harbour Grace.
And for a month we laughed and loved, met everyone I knew,
And everyone who met her fell in love with Candy too.
And I began to plan a life, a home in Harbour Grace.
My loneliness had gone away, no sadness in this place.
Then came one cold grey morning, no suitcase on the floor,
No car in the driveway, a note upon the door.
I hope you find another love, one that is strong and true.
I know you will not understand, but I’ll come back for you.
But down the years I never found a love to call my own.
Not knowing how to find her, I stayed in my parents’ home.
And dreamed of Candy Kelly as the long years fell away.
My steps grew slow and feeble, my hair turned to grey.
All my friends and family gone to the other side.
No purpose now to linger, no reason to abide.
As lonely now as I was then, Toronto long before,
Adrift upon an ocean, looking for the other shore.
And then one night a vision I had not seen before,
A spirit shining softly, drifting through my door.
Is this I dream I wonder as it comes to where I lie,
Or has it come to tell me that my time has come to die?
My angel name is Chandra, Candy Kelly that you knew,
And angels don’t break promises, so I’ve come back for you.
And now I know the reason why she knew each turning place
To bring me from Toronto to my home in Harbour Grace.
Two spirits floating side by side out through a solid door,
She tells me I will be sad and lonely nevermore.
Two spirits floating side by side out through a solid door,
She tells me I will be sad and lonely nevermore.
Ellis Craig, 2022.
Copyright © Ellis Craig | Year Posted 2024
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