Patience


Patience

My wonderful woman, or women–
I know not who you are,
The ones who will fill my life
With love’s truest light for a time.
But I can wait for our time.

I may meet you in the street,
A dark club, through my career,
Or some unforeseen event–
You will see my soul, and I yours.
We will touch, we will laugh,
And dance under moonless skies.
But I can wait for our time.

I am ready for your light in my life–
For your bright smile to turn my head.
I am patient.
I can wait for our time.

I am complete as I am now–
Your addition will make me more than
Myself, a better woman in all I do.
The thought of you makes my heart sing.
But I can wait for our time.

And when the hard times come,
Those trials and tests of our life,
We may pull together, or fall apart–
Devotion only takes us so far.
Still, I can wait for our time.

Whether our love comes slow,
Or burns as hot and fast as a match,
I will wait for our time to come.
But please don’t keep me waiting too long.

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.

Yep, I think that says it all.

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White Noise


This was an experiment with onomatopoeia.

White Noise

crackle crackle hisss
rustle buzzzz whirr
grind hiss pop! whistle
crinkle crackle whine
whoooshh fizzle hummmm
ssshhhhhharcklacklshhh…

hear the setting sun
the scorched forgotten dinner cooking
and the colour of the undisturbed snow–
what do you hear when you close your eyes?

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.

Have you ever just sat and listened to nothing? In a house, there’s all these little noises you don’t notice until no one is moving, or talking, or anything. It helps to have no one home, and turn off all the radios and televisions and all that other crap. Try it. It’s kind of neat. Even better to try it if you don’t live on a main road- then the car and city sounds won’t intrude. It’s hard for me to get peace here between the bus stop behind my house; living in a decent sized city; living with my mom, step-father, brother, uncle, his dog, and my cat; cell phones always going off… No wonder I meditate daily- I’d go batty without a calm half hour or so a day to centre myself.

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Epidemic


This is something silly I wrote.

Epidemic

It was hot out
the same heat as that week
we spent walking shoeless and lost
over sharp crags in northern Ontario
under an unforgiving sun.

It made me nervous
to think that the same thing
could possibly happen to us again
despite possessing a detailed trail map
and much better shoes.

Perhaps there won’t be
another massive outbreak of the virus
which drove us to the hills
the first time around to escape
terrifying hordes of zombies.

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.

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Afternoon in Winter


Afternoon in Winter

Winter: the season for hibernation,
Slowing the heartbeat and metabolism;
A time of early darkness and forgetting.

A torpid season for creatures —
Pudgy black squirrel scrabbles leadenly,
So small when projected against the grim sky.

It seems much easier to forget when
Cold death blankets what lived, and
Ice shrouds windows and walkways.

Now is the time to reflect on the weeks
And the seasons  which have passed me by,
Most of which I would prefer to
Forget.

© Bridget Noonan, 2009, 2012.

This was a weird poem that I had intended to be from the point of view of a tree in the winter, but I cut or changed pretty much all the parts that referenced it, so now I sound like I need a hug.

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So many poems! Don’t worry, most are short.


This first one is my response to Sensational Haiku Wednesday at You Know… That Blog. This week’s theme is the word craft.  Here we go!

Craft

rasping steel saw blade,
hammers, nails, sandpaper slide,
sawdust falls like snow

Some more fun short poetry! This is the sort of thing I can knock out at work. And did do at work, as you might be able to tell. 🙂

Peace

that magic feeling
no customers in line to
beg for attention

Bakery

The temptation grows
Croissant, baguette, and cookie
Happy baking smell.

Gone

I saw you today
someone that I used to know
you avert your face

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.

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Fall From Grace


I dug this out of my hard drive and dusted it off, just for you guys. Heads up, it’s another strange one.

Fall From Grace

the tension
the spark ignites tinder
glances from burning windows
falling away from the sun
feathers moulting away from shoulders
flutter falter plunge
to the sea
sea of desire
flounder flap drown
siren song
draws the swimmer down
shimmering scales
flitting fins
webbed fingers
arms encircle
fascination with the unknown
tightening embrace
cruel parody of an embrace
jagged yellow fangs
sink into
a dream?
soft creeping darkness
edges of vision
warmth replacing cold
red; black; grey; white.

© Bridget Noonan, 2010, 2012.

Where did I even come up with this? Oh, my rat-maze brain.

“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.”  
Prufrock, T.S. Eliot

 

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Found Poetry: Is it Beginning?


Okay, so found poetry is cool.

I thought I’d give it a go, using the lyrics of the Beatles song Tomorrow Never Knows. Because I am a huge Beatles nerd, and it was playing while I pondered scouring my bookshelves for something to cobble together. Maybe it is more coincidence than design.

Also, this is harder to do than it looks.

Is it Beginning?

It is all play:
Existence is the game;
Hate and love and ignorance;
Beginning, end; Living, dead.

May you see meaning within
The shining thought,
The knowing void.

Float downstream,
Not dying, not being,
Knowing everyone.

Relax. It is not surrender.
Turn down your mind,
Mourn the dying, and
Love the living.

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.

I don’t know how anyone else does it, but a pencil and a pad of paper seem to work wonders with this sort of thing- one page with the original work, one with your derivative work. Though I don’t recommend crossing things out on your original work, because if you change things, eraser tends to muck it all up. The trials and tribulations of artistry! 😛

Edit: I feel a little bit bad for those words I didn’t end up using. They look so forlorn on that abandoned yellow page.

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The Canadian Pastime


Most of you probably know this, but I am Canadian.
I like being polite to strangers until they piss me off, I like when the Mounties get their man (or woman), I think igloos are awesome and I wish I could build one each winter (but there’s never enough snow or ice where I live!), I like maple syrup a bit more than is strictly healthy, and I think the music that comes from my country is pretty rockin’ (though two notable exceptions spring to mind: J. Beibs, and Nickelback. Nobody’s perfect, not even Canada).

I think what is best known about my country (that’s actually true anyway) is our near-rabid enduring love of ice- and snow-based sports. They’re not for everyone, but I must say if you’ve never played a game of street hockey and had to yell “CAR!” and move the nets/net substitutes out of the way, you haven’t lived.

This poem is about the kids that get out there on the ice and have fun.

Snoopy and Woodstock really are driving a Zamboni. That isn't my imagination. YES.

The Canadian Pastime

The smell of chlorine permeates
Every room, every corridor,
While the cacophony rises from
The vast sheet of ice.
Children swarming like bumblebees
Slipping, falling, chasing.

At once, a shot! And both teams
End in a heap in one net;
Each player their own goal,
The puck nowhere in sight.

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.

Also, I will try to keep to a schedule of posting Tuesdays and Fridays. Who knows how long that’ll last. 😛

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I heart haiku


You know, the haiku form is a lovely way to narrow one’s focus; seventeen syllables is all you get, so make them count!

I took some inspiration from Sensational Haiku Wednesday for the first one. The prompt was silhouette.
Caution: this post contains nonsense.  You have been warned! 😀

Silhouette of the Jabberwock

After brillig-tide
Headless Jabberwocky’s corpse
Cast a slithy shade.

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.
Many thanks to Lewis Carroll!

But wait! There’s more!

Jenga

Placement is crucial
One wrong move and the blocks slide
Taking Babel down.

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.

And finally…

Nerd Joy

I reached perfection
Hundred percent completion
Take that, Pokemon.

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.

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Words of Love


I’m on a roll! Check it.

Words of Love

Carve your words into my skin
Let your scent seep into my bones
Your voice sings in my ears
And the light of your spirit sears my eyes.

So everywhere I go, I carry you;
Every time I dream you are there;
And every time I turn around,
It’s your face I hope to see.

Unleash your endless laugh,
I feel its echoes across the miles.
Your eyes shining with happiness
Light my way back to your arms.

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.

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