there

the day was winding down 
in dreary deadlines,
and bills to be paid,
and lists of weary errands, to be done

pushed off until the hour signaled
The Lord of Time
would soon be tap-tap-tapping
his mighty year-end scythe
upon the door

and I would not be ready
to go forward,
for I am seldom ready 
–  when change comes – 

and so I muddled about
at the end of the passage.

and then, just when, I began to feel
lost and a little overwhelmed,
he was there, as he always is –

there:  as warm and sure as light. 

and I thought:  I might just get it together, yet.
but anyway . . . I won't be alone . . . tonight.


“It’s often just enough to be with someone.  I don’t need to touch them.  Not even talk.  A feeling passes between you both.  You’re not alone.”  Marilyn Monroe

photos:  Old and New Light – W. Bourke and Poster of Marilyn Monroe Stuck to the Back of a Door – W. Bourke 

© 2013 Wendy Bourke 

in the late afternoon glow

the end of day

was still 

as fresh as apples 

in the late afternoon glow

and conjured forth old thoughts  

of pots and pots 

of steamy Earl Grey Tea 

and Peek Frean Biscuits

sipped and nibbled  

at the afterschool kitchen table

when the cozy world  

drifted in dreamy wafts of 

bergamot orange

punctuated with mcintosh seeds 

and raisins and cookie crumbs

that dotted  

the thin blue lines of foolscap 

and skipped amongst lead pencils

waiting
for the words - to come

notes:  An essence extracted from the skin of Bergamot Oranges is used to flavor Earl Grey Tea and is often used in marmalade.  

 

The Peek, Frean Biscuit Company was established in 1857 in London by James Peek and George Hender Frean.

The McIntosh Apple (also known as the Mac) was discovered by John McIntosh in 1811 on his Dundela farm in Upper Canada. His family began selling the fruit in 1835.  It is harvested in late September, at just about the time students settle back into homework.  Apple employee Jef Raskin named the Macintosh line of personal computers (Macs) after it. 

Foolscap paper (or foolscap folio) is lined, legal-size, unpunched paper.   It is called foolscap because, in the 18th century, it had the watermark of a fool's cap on it.  It is 8 ½ by 13 ½ inches (compared to the standard 8 ½ x 11 inches) and was commonly used (at least in Ontario schools) in the fifties and sixties. 

photo:  In the Late Afternoon Glow – W. Bourke

© 2013 Wendy Bourke 

Lost in Conversation

HEAD DOODLING BACK

“That’s funny”, I said.

 And then I said:
“Well, not FUNNY funny –

 

as in: AMUSING, 

HUMOROUS, 

COMIC 

or ABSURD  . . .

no – certainly –  

not ABSURD, at all, 

really – that is THE last word . . .

H-m-m-m-m-m,
actually UPROARIOUS

is the last word I would use –

right after HILARIOUS, HUMDINGER,  
LUDICROUS and WHAT-A-HOOT!

Although, WHAT-A-HOOT is three words,  

and I don’t mean to confuse.

That’s it:

confuse!  confused! – CONFUSING  . . . 

or possibly – BEMUSED . . .

Well not so much BEMUSED –
more like PUZZLING

No – o – o - o  . . . . PERPLEXING ! ! !

 

PERPLEXING – that’s the word –  

That is what I’m trying to say.

PERPLEXING . . .  

in an ODD, CONFUSING, MUDDLED sort of way ! ! !"

note:  Writing poetry, I am often struck by the many, many peculiarities of the English language - and I have tremendous respect for people who must sort through them all, when learning English as a second language.  It has to be a taunting task.  One small example of this is the adjective "funny".  Who amongst us has not uttered the phrase: "that's funny" - only to quickly follow up with: "well, not funny-funny".  The verbal gymnastics of stating something, only to back-flip and attempt to fix what you have just said is (let's face it) funny - or perhaps even FUNNY funny. 

photos:  Tea and Conversation?  (The Roedde House Museum) - W. Bourke and Circling the Maze - W. Bourke

© 2013 Wendy Bourke

All Through the Night

HEAD DOODLING BACK

Against the wet dark windows 
Drumbeat of soothing rains.
From the nearby railway station
Rhythmic symphony of trains.
Chortling clatter on the cold rails,
Percussion clash of shunting cars,
Whistle blast and panting engine,
Smoky notes beneath the stars.
Cocooned in pitter patter -
Thoughts of promises to keep.
Rambling dreams of far off places.

Any wonder:  I can’t sleep!

photo:  Woman's Bedroom in The Roedde House Museum - Vancouver, BC

© 2012 Wendy Bourke

The Bitter Chilly

Monday, in the late afternoon lonely, 
the apartment shivered with cold 
and from my window 

the world rose in icy numbness

like a scene from the movie Dr. Zhivago –  

after the revolution.

So, naturally,  

all the little horse drawn carriages, 

with cozy fur lap rugs, 

were nowhere to be found 

amongst the blue concrete –

though wispy snowflakes tumbled  

childishly, in happy-sad, 

reminiscent white breaths

that stirred me to set about looking  

for my hot water bottle 

to press against my flannelette tummy, 

as my mother had taught me to do, 

when I was just a little girl:

  

To warm the bitter chilly,  

she would say – 

as she tucked soft blankets round 

and hugged me.

photo:  Bitter Chilly - W. Bourke 

© 2013 Wendy Bourke