Articles in Category: Poetry & Prose

April Grace Has A Change Of Heart

old_couple.jpgA short story by
Kathaleen McCrite

My grandma has a boyfriend, and he gets on my nerves big time. He's loud and corny, and it seems like he's always at her house. She cooks for him, makes his special favorites, laughs at his dumb jokes – and believe me, he has a lot of dumb jokes.

Worst of all, she gets all dolled up for him, wearing her church clothes for every day. Grandma and I hardly ever have any alone-time since Mr. Rance came into our lives.

“Doesn't Mr. Rance about drive you buggy and bust your eardrums with his big mouth?” I asked her after the old man excused himself from our table at the Koffee Kup to make a phone call.

All dreamy-eyed, she watched him walk away.

“I don't think he knows how loud he is,” she said.

I rolled my eyes. “All that talk, talk, talk. He never stops!  Doesn't he drive you buggy?”

I bit into my bacon cheeseburger, which is my favorite thing to eat at the Koffee Kup, and happily munched on it while Grandma tore open a little blue packet of sweetener and stirred it into her coffee. She stirred for a long time then finally looked at me with a little frown…

Danzing Blue

By Christine Forsthuber

First tones enter
carefully, hesitating
like pearls round and warm
walking in, embrace the room
find both
starting in it
sure about what it is
searching the next second
trying, looking, asking
blue tones tenderly
colour the morning
dancing around
inviting to move
just a fast impuls
sending sensations to the legs
smiling into the cells
making the muscles trembling
ready to go, to dance
in gentle waves the blue sound
trop in, building circles
into the room
corresponding with the body
going faster
opening the door
to many blues, incredible
step into it stronger
resolute, sure
easy going
without thinking
enjoying, swinging

Just a sudden stop
makes some climax
reaching ... the sea
relaxed, smiling
so much blue
all around


By Rebecca Brown

Have you ever really listened,
to a fire?
The closely knit rhythms,
of sweet percussion.

The magical sense of time,
standing still.
The ability, if only for a brief moment,
to receive with open arms,
a gentle calming of the soul.

Each day brings new pleasures.
Broken hearts and broken dreams.
New hope, for inner peace.

Listen some day,
to the wisdom the fire speaks.
Open up your mind and your heart
and hear the sweet percussion.

Related links:
What To Do On A Cold Canadian Autumn Night

The Dance Of Unity

Susan notes: this is the first poem I've ever written (with the exeception of a few lines of haiku I once penned in grade nine). It was inspired by this quote (shared on Facebook by Kamyar Houbakht):

Silence is filled with the unspoken, with deeds not performed, with confessions to secret loves, and with wonders never expressed. Our real truth is hidden in our silence, yours and mine.
Margot Bickel

The Dance of Unity

Sun and moon.
Day and night.
Dark and light.
Bound together forever,
In a reflective dance of unity.

By Susan Macaulay