Father`s Day, this June 18, 2017

me as a childHe crawled on his hands and knees and made me laugh; he tickled me until my tummy muscles hurt; he took me on car rides in wooded areas…just he, me and

©clr`17 GrandPapa

my sister.  He played the mean old man just for fun so he could quickly turn into my saviour and took me in his arms to rescue me. He was my saint and still is my saint to whom I pray when I feel frightened and vulnerable…Merci, Grand-Papa! You also passed Father’s Day weekend, giving me, every year, time to truly thank you for being in my life.

He pushed me and encouraged me and instilled determination and hard work. He believed in me and knew I was smart and could do better. He wanted more than me sometimes and yet, he made me see my potential. He was fond of me and even named his daughter after me. Thank you Mr. Lagacé, for being a teacher who saw more in me than I could fathom…I succeeded despite many obstacles…I DID it and you planted the seed.

 

He looks upon me with pride; the love he feels is overwhelming. He’s gentle; he’s funny and makes me feel so special. I even feel a bit possessive with he has girlfriends and wonder if I will lose my place…he protected me from wolves and walked me down the aisle as my “dad” at my wedding.  He will always be a Dad to me.  Bonne Fête des Pères, Bernie.

 

How I loved my Fridays after school!  I’d go with Jane and have supper with her family.  If I was late or did not go, he would say,”Where is Lynn?  It’s Friday!”  He taught me to be proud of my slender (lanky to me silhouette); He convinced me to stop nail-biting so I could one day show off my engagement ring on my finger. (That actually worked at the young age of 13!) He counted me as one of his daughters…for a night or two or three sometimes…Thank you,  Mr. Wilkins for making me feel special.

©Clr;17 Mom & Fred

He took me for my first drink after winning a college scholarship at 17 years old. He stood by Mom when I walked down the aisle, with pride. He paced the floors for hours when I was in labour…he was always there…Thank you Fred for making Mom feel so loved and for being a Dad to me. You left us June 18th and making this year even more memorable, on Father’s Day.   I love  you and still miss you, Fred.

 

Fall2005FamilyMaeFred_12
©Clr`17 Uncle Fred and Ma Tante Mae

It took me 45 years to feel that specialness a “Dad” can bestow on an older daughter.  Remember those teenage years and young adulthood when you were in love?  Remember when your father wanted to “check him out” to make sure your heart would not be broken.  Well,  I was a late bloomer!  I remember when I lived with my aunt and uncle and sometimes I would hang up the phone and say, “Oh, gee I have a date. What am I going to wear?” He would smile and sit on the couch with his lovely mate  (Ma Tante Mae) who was as excited as me.  The fashion show would commence and he’d look, smile and sometimes raise an eyebrow.  The raised eyebrow was probably a more sexy outfit 😉  He would tell me discreetly, “Be careful not to fall head over heels too quickly and get hurt.”  To which I would say, “I may need  your shoulder to cry on if that happens.” And I did and he was there. Thank you Uncle Fred for being such a cool and understanding dad!

And Dad,  no matter how distant our relations were over the years, I still remember how special I felt if you would “Wink”  or say, “How’s it going,  Kiddo?” and my heart would melt.  I know you were always proud of us and in those last few years you mellowed and you let me see a softer side of you. I love you, Dad!

Happy Father’s Day to fathers world wide and for those special men who really make a difference with their selfless love.

 

Image may contain: 2 people, people smiling

©Cheryl-Lynn ’17

waiting (haibun)

What a pleasant surprise to see our poet, extraordinaire, filling in for Chévrefeuille today.  Paloma not only writes beautiful poems, haiku and other Japanese forms, she goes into depth with each “prompt”…she truly takes her homework seriously and I have learned so much reading her creations and the added information and lovely music videos she chooses so well and that add flavour and warmth to her posts.

For today, we return to our featured poet, Fuyuko Tomita

Sansan to/ sosogu asahi no/fuzukue ni/ nokosu mikan no/ uta zo samishiki

How lonely I would be
left behind on my desk
an unfinished poem
in the glorious morning sun
© Fuyuko Tomita

(Note that the Japanese version is in five lines – but – as she explained to Chévrefeuille in a separate post – the English version is slightly different.  She is translating her poem so as to keep the spirit of the original, more so than the structure of the original.)  I love that idea!  Occasionally I will compose a haiku or tanka in French or in English and feel confined when following the form when the meaning can be compromised.

Here is our interim host,  Paloma’s response to this prompt:

at the bird feeder
three cardinals are squabbling –
a love triangle?

the poem that nudges my ribs
is fading with the laundry
© Paloma

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Lesser Ury. Woman at Writing Desk, 1898. WikiArt

I commute to and from work on public transit and most of my thinking and composing is done walking or waiting for the Métro or the bus.  I have a mini notebook I can hold in the palm of my hand and I scribble haiku when I am still standing or sitting but when I am walking, the words seem to dribble even more. I try to remember when I get to work or home but most often the thought may be there but “that verse”  or “ that line” is somewhere floating and I am left waiting for my muse to conspire…she comes when she IS ready…

 (tanka)

shuffling home tonight
words spill recklessly
her muse takes over

she waits expectantly
just the hum of a laptop

© Tournesol ’15

Carpe Diem, Special Fuyuko Tomitas – How Lonely

Don’t you feel sad?

Since last December I have had many class interviews on the phone students about the work I do, working on a youth help line. One question that came out often, just warmed my heart. The fact that these youths were concerned about me!  So when I saw this prompt to write a poem and start it with a question, this came to mind.

 https://pookypoetry.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/write-a-poem-that-opens-with-a-question.jpg?w=527&h=294

 

Don’t you feel sad when you go home at night
listening to unhappy stories about this or that?

Why I guess sometimes I do feel sad alright!
That is really sweet of you to ask me that.

Do you cry sometimes?

Why yes, I may feel a tear
run down my cheek
from time to time.

So how do you feel better?

I think you are wondering
how I practice self-care.
I am very much aware
I need to be mindful
of my feelings as well
or else I would not be capable
working here as long as I’ve been able.
I talk to my supervisor
some of the time
or a counsellor friend,
they always will lend
a good listening ear
so I can continue working
day after day right here.
I walk a lot, write a lot too
I read for distraction
and love comedy shows
like The Big Bank Theory
gets me laughing quite loudly.
There is always a counsellor
or manager available
to allow me to debrief
which is a great relief!
Thank you so very much
for asking and caring such!

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/05/10

Submittted for: PookyDailyPoetryPrompt # 9 Open with a Question

Now, how come I didn’t think of that?

 

Now how come I didn`t think of that?

How come I don’t think of listening to my favourite on-line radio station? I am on-line so much with work, with blogging and today I realized when I am home weekends, I often write in silence.  Granted, sometimes I do prefer to shut out any distractions for my thoughts are enough and if I add lyrics and melody, I get overwhelmed and cannot concentrate.  It`s different at work, however. If I am writing a “story to share” or on-line counselling, I may put in my ear buds and listen to music to block out the business and voices heard on crisis call centres.

Today I was chatting with a cyber friend/writer/poet extraordinaire/blogger and sharing how I also love music and how it can impact on my mood. No surprise there, right?  Look at folks who listen to music on the street, on the bus, train and Métro. You see some bobbing their heads, swaying, lip singing, moving their shoulders and walking is sort of cool too.  Oh, Oh, That reminds me!  Have you ever noticed when you are driving in the car especially in the city during a busy time and you are listening to funky music or rock and roll (whatever is your pleasure)?  Observing the pace of some pedestrians seem to match just perfectly the beat of a song you are listening to.  That is so cool!  Haha, it is funny when it is a fast upbeat tune and you see some people pick up their pace to beat the light or of course if you are a Montrealer, well, we just jaywalk…sometimes quickly sometimes not so quickly. If you`re the driver being cut off by a warm body, well, you have to stop…so that may interrupt your music mood for a few seconds. Just crank up the volume and let it go and enjoy the harmony and not your inner frustration…It`s Montreal! deal with it (smiles) it is part of our culture.

I think that is something I may want to work on a bit now…patience and driving. The cyclists especially are out and in the city they usually do not think of motorists, so I need to be mindful of that and pretend I have a twin that is on her bike just as I am leaving for work in my car. Oh, yeah, and leaving a bit earlier may help to avoid that “road rage”. {Gotta work on that one!}

Back to my original question, why didn`t I think of that?  Since I am so often on-line, I must remember to log on to Jango.com  a free radio station that you can add ONLY your music delights, favs and no commercials.  I guess I stopped a few years ago when our agency put in a firewall that blocked that site…but still, I can use it at home…and that is exactly what I am doing now as I write this post. I am listening to Phoebe Snow right now crooning Poetry Man. Now how appropriate is that, that I am ending this with this song playing?   Serendipity? Coincidence? Nah, I’ll leave those questions for another question for Linda Hill`s Stream of consciousness prompts {wink wink}.

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/04/26

“This post is part of SoCS: http://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/04/25/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-april-2614/

 

Phoebe Snow – Poetry Man

Holy C Melan

deadlygothicdesigns.webs.com
deadlygothicdesigns.webs.com

Her nickname is Melan,

she is of sly, slithering species

tantalizing in her distinct bouquet

mesmerizing in her discrete array

of victims of her choosing

dripping bliss as she`s oozing

her prisoners of despair

suffer anguish in her care.

Hallowed in her divine

prowess she will define

the true painful meaning

finds her prey ever demeaning

suffering the wrought of her ability

winning casualties of her torment

sinking teeth of Ms. Melan C. Holy

whilst innocent souls lament.

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/04/05 All Rights Reserved

Too often the powers of depression or long dreaded visits of melancholy can bring a person down. Not everyone has to be diagnosed with clinical, situational or other forms of depression to relate to these feelings of despair and I thought this poem describes the tormenting visits of this Melan C Holy baby.

Originally submitted at Stigmahurtseveryone

Celestial brush strokes

I certainly never hide the fact
that I love to take many photos of the sky…
cloudy, sunny and especially sunsets.
Fortunately, I am able
to see amazing sunsets on our rooftop
at work in the milder weather….
so soon I will be able to capture
those hues of magenta, orange and
purplish blues mixed in the horizon.
But my photos are very amateur;
not having proper equipment, I feel
I can never capture the beauty
that this blogger/photographer does,
nor do I have her talent.
And that is why artists need admirers
and viewers as I enjoy to look
with regard, appreciation and admiration.

The first image I saw when I woke up this morning was this beautiful masterpiece that nature creates day after day but only a few select eyes can capture and actually share with the world.

This is one of them.

Check out Michelle Marie’s blog at Tell Me About It 
to see the endless images she creates and
the lovely words of inspiration she adds in her poetry.

 

http://michellemarieantellg.files.wordpress.com/2014/04/thebigpicture-1-of-1.jpg

 

 

Their spirits unite

tranquil

readying for night-

fall…still,

this moment

so serene

cascades in between

daylight

and

twilight;

celestial beings

gather

their brushes…

together…

brush,

stroke,

hush!

and admire,

brush

that does caress

our skyline

with finesse,

sweep

here, there…

with endless

enduring wear…

Now shush!

hear the chorale

breathing life

effortless…

mime

Ahhhhh!

rhyme

meditative

and sublime

now hush!

hear my heart-

beat, rush

as I see this

vision of

divine bliss

a masterpiece

melts in the horizon.

© Cheryl-Lynn, 2014/04/05

All rights reserved for poems and photography. If you are interested in sharing or knowing more about this photo, please contact the original artist/photographer Michelle Marie.

Thank you, Michelle Marie, for giving me permission to display and share your masterpiece here you had originally given as an offering to Belinda

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve got your back

I have always believed that books find me.  You know when you are searching through stacks of books at a library or when you have a list of authors and the book  you want is not on the shelf?  But hey,! your eyes are drawn to the title or the book jacket of the book next to where your find should have been.  You take out the book, read a bit about the author, perhaps a snippet about the novel and you bring it home. You discover you truly enjoy this author and you read several of his or her published works. You have made a new friend, the characters in the book are a part of your life for a little while.  Has that ever happened to you?

I find that happens with people too.  Some people come into your life because you were meant to meet…there is a reason, a purpose. Years ago when I was completing my internship as a Family Life Educator, I became closer with my supervisor and my mentor.  My mentor became a good friend, a confidante and spiritual guide in many ways.  I aspired to be like her…if only a tiny morsel of her some day.  She was a very compassionate person.

When I completed my internship, I was hired on contract to continue offering life skill workshops for the rest year at this community clinic. My friend and mentor, had worked as a Family Life Educator at a private school on the hill of our beautiful city, for almost 10 years.  She wanted to take a sabbatical and complete her degree in English Literature. (I never saw the relationship with writing and English there too considering how much I have turned to writing in the past year.)   She asked me if I would replace her at the school and she would recommend me to the headmistress for an interview.

I was so excited.  I had returned to university as a mature student, graduating in a less conventional degree than our province was familiar in the francophone community, so finding work, I was aware, would be a bit of a challenge.  So many institutions were not familiar with the intensive and comprehensive programme our department that Applied Social and Human Sciences offered students especially with our rigorous applied characteristic. We had to apply much of our learning to ourselves, be in counselling if we wanted to pursue counselling courses and to take our learning to a higher level and an option to take part in the internship and be certified.  But, all this hard work was not known, hence not recognized  in our province. This opportunity D was offering me was a godsend!  A great way to improve on my skills as well as get experience.  So I said, yes.

A few weeks later, I had an appointment for the interview.  I was so nervous. I had let my punk shaved head hairdo grow out a bit and it was now a more natural colour (did away with the orange or purple) and dark blonde on a short bob looked just right.  I wore a long skirt and blazer with pumps (not time to wear my comfy Doc Martens) and arrived twenty minutes before my scheduled time.  I was so impressed driving up Mount Pleasant in my humble Renaud V…up, up, up, the steep hill avoiding the rear-view mirror as I would visualize my car flipping over backwards.  The houses around this school were like being somewhere in England with the old and beautiful  stone houses; they were spectacular!

I sat quietly across the secretary’s desk. She had a nice warm smile. I sat and admired the woodwork on the walls, the dark stained molding and started to get a bit nervous.  I decided to freshen up before the interview. The washroom was just in front of the secretary’s desk.   Final check in the mirror, lipstick applied, hair in place, I went to take my seat and waited again.  The secretary got a buzz, and that was the headmistress calling me into her office. I thanked her and turned around to walk into the office when the secretary called me softly, “Um, you may want to adjust your skirt a bit before going in Madame G’s office.”  I place my the palm of my hand along my hips to smooth my skirt and as I reach the back I feel a huge bulge! My eyes widen, my face turns white, then beet red…At that moment I quickly turn facing the secretary still wide-eyed and tug my skirt out of my pantyhose so quickly…no one could have noticed except Ms. S and me. Phew! I just exhaled in a loud whisper, “Thank  you” with pleading eyes and went into the office.

I got the position and taught social skills and sex ed.  there for five years and Ms. S will forever be my friend and saviour…her offering that very first day, to me was like hearing, “I’ve got your back!” in more ways than one {smiles}.

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/04/04

Written for: Dungeon Prompts – Season 2, Week 14: Entertain with the Mundane

Inspired too reach out (haibun)

We Drink Poetry Inspiration – Prompt #012 What Inspires You

This is not poetic in nature, and to call it a free verse is using the term loosely. However, I wanted to share where my writing all began at Alecoute-Ntouch, a site informing folks of workshops I was offering on life skills and professional and personal development. But then I got acquainted with WordPress and the world of blogging and discovered I had a lot to say too…

(haiku)

An idea simmers.
Words produce an awareness
conscious convictions.

Street Art Montreal Summer 2013
Street Art Montreal Summer 2013

I began writing to voice my thoughts
with Cher Shares, that was my first start,
voicing opinions, I sure did have a lot;
And then I was inspired by Herding Cats 
that’s when my vision shifted a tat
I got on my soap box hoping to make a dent
at Stigma Hurts Everyone I wanted to vent,
yell out to the world that which is important
to me, things just needed to be heard,
nothing exceptional because some
may even have a knack to say it better
but maybe if we shout out loudly together
our voices may be heard that much noisier.
And then Cher Shares became a comfort zone
to write a story here, there, or even a poem
And, that’s the tale of how it all started
my story of a humble love affair
of words that I write from the heart
of passion, love and sometimes conviction
that’s why I blog, where I got my inspiration.

© Cheryl-Lynn, 2014/02/25