Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Roll On

May 26, 2010

An interesting project has been floating around for several months.  It focuses on eating disorders and is mostly musical.  Although most of the work is still to come, here is a piece of literature that was written for it. Many anorexics describe their illness as a person.  Essentially they have a relationship with their eating disorder.  In treatment this relationship is challenged and addressed. I hope these words capture some of the inner turmoil.

If I knew of a better way

I would tell you to roll on

Oh so far away

Oh so far away

It’s in your head why won’t you eat?

What my mother says to me

But it’s such a feat

But it’s such a feat

The doctor’s offer a remedy

The potential for recovery

And this year is killing me

With promises it can’t keep

The time I’ve spent on this pursuit

My life with you under wraps

For us, us alone

For us, us alone

I hoped for it all night and day

The answer to my prayers

A new way to live

A new way to live

The doctor’s offer a remedy

The potential for recovery

And this year is killing me

With promises it can’t keep

With you it’s so easy

One hour of this

No time for that

I always listen

To your sage advice

My life makes sense with you in it

The doctor’s offer a remedy

The potential for recovery

And this year is killing me

With promises it can’t keep

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I Blame Home Video

October 27, 2009

Pathology is meaningless to the passage of time.
And shallow words hold this life hostage
On a boat moored to the shore
This legacy is boundless
Impatient
Transcribed to thousands of pictures
Beaming needlessly from coast to coast
Yet savagely you introduce new thoughts
A language unencumbered by mystery
Clarity is the most desired thing
Forward we move and outward we crumble
So only the inside remains
Time
Time a fantasy
A life worth calculating
Replicating after a memory
Preserved
Captured and questioned as a fugitive
From dozens of years
In the wilderness
Lost, stumbling
Angry, colliding
This is the only moment
The lasting premonition
You are my only visitor
Because all that’s left
Is seconds
Second to nothing

A Potter Of Plans

May 29, 2009

Every good song must come to an end
Even as I beg for the notes to carry on
It’s only the sound of your voice
That keeps me moving forward from day to day
When the music settles
As snow on the porch
I stumble backwards into my head
And the senseless shame
With layers of sorrow
Crowd me again as if I am alone
I walk to the record player
Slide the needle back
So I can listen again to my love
Spinning your words and rhymes

Peter Snow

The Notes

Today is an exciting day at The Alder Fork.  My first publication, Potter of Plans Poems About Canada, has just arrived in hard copy form.  If you would like a copy drop me a line at thealderfork@gmail.com, or you can get it at blurb.com by clicking the link on the sidebar.  At the link you will also find a 15 page preview of the book so you can get a sense of it before buying.  Very shortly I will be launching a store at thealderfork.esty.com to sell the books and my albums.  Once again the book is $10 plus shipping if you don’t  live within drop off distance.

After Many Years

May 19, 2009

Your eyes do not deceive you, there is indeed a link to my new book over on the sidebar.  Potter of Plans: Poems About Canada is a collection of my poems about this country. Some have appeared on this very blog in recent weeks, and there are many more in the book. You can order it through that link, or if you know me I can get you a copy when the first ones arrive in a couple of weeks.

I have long wanted to do this, and The Alder Fork has given me the confidence and ability to do so.  The collection represents the sum of my poetry from the last 6 months.  Obviously, I have rejected some of my output in order to put the best material in the book.  I have been quite pleased with what my imagination has come up with lately.

In honour of this auspicious occasion I offer you yet one more poem from this collection:

Short Note of Thanksgiving

Blue
It’s the colour I remember most
You used it
In all of the paintings you sold me
I wish
I wish I could buy more
But money
Is always tight around here
My fault?
Not with this economy
But really
The paintings were lovely
Thank you

A Sliding Double

May 15, 2009

I’ve slowly been tempting you with poems over the last little while. Since I am off to a Blue Jays-Yankees game this evening I thought I’d leave you with this:

Victoria Park

You could hardly believe that I was here
60 years later
A patch of dirt and a grassy hill
Were the last connection between us
You were taller and with a heavier bat
Cleared the fence
The gathered fans
And the trees beyond
I was lucky if the ball dropped in
For a single or a sliding double
I imagine you were as light on your feet
And that while I snagged line drives
Before they could touch the earth
You would twirl your arm
And snap your wrist
To say goodnight to another pretender
A big hitter
The grandstand is empty today
But I’ve seen the pictures
When ladies
Gentleman
And suit wearing children
Crammed together
To catch a game
Many people still pass by
Through 7 innings
But they are focused on the road
Or their dogs
Or the sunset in the distance
In the top of the 6th
I let my mind wander
To a different time in space
When you stood out on that mound
And destroyed their dreams
With speed and movement
Clever spins
Crooked breaks
Until a snap of the wrist
Accompanied by a furious swing
Restores my attention

Links? Maybe not.

May 7, 2009

In all the time I have written this blog, I have never lost an entire post. Until tonight. I had put together a link day with some fun bits about a Newfoundland and Labrador commercial (watch the third one), the Hamilton Timeraiser, and Laura Smith’s upcoming tour. You can follow the links if you like. 

Since I lost the entire post I was left reflecting on the impermance of electronic data.  Earlier today someone reminded me that I should be backing up my work in case my harddrive fails, a not uncommon occurence.  I back up everything on an external harddrive and occasionally usb sticks.  Of course, some of my writing is done on old fashioned paper.  It is less likely that paper will “fail” since the biggest threat to that medium is fire or accidentally throwing it out.  Now it is more likely that paper will be misplaced, but it’s always fun to find a long lost song or poem (I continue my quest for the elusive CS1).  There are those who prefer to read real books, and write on actual paper rather than using computers for those activities.  I try to strike a happy compromise between the two.  Here’s a poem:

1927

Winter
Began as it does
Lonely
Finding its meaning
In the ice
Where boys and men
Girls and women
Carve their lines
And slap their sticks
To express
A century’s old meaning
When a plant and a bear
Meet out there
Only one will win
And it won’t be pretty
From corner to corner
From post to post
Across a country
Circling the world
In rinks  
Floating playgrounds
From father to son
And Mother to daughter
Losing its meaning
Lonely
Ends as it does
Winter

A Short Piece

April 28, 2009

A poem from an upcoming collection:

Mail Order Surprise

They say I bribed the shopkeeper
To sell it to me at half the price
“There’s no way, you could buy it
Not on your salary”
I said, “How do you know
What I make in a month
And quality is worth it”
Why would I tell them my secret?
That the Italians had it
On special
Because they don’t know the value
Of a space heater
In Pickle Lake
In January