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About quillfyre

I'm a poet and member of the League of Canadian Poets published in Ottawa journals and online. My poems have received Honourable Mentions in Arborealis 2008, Ontario Poetry Society, and the Canadian Authors Association National Capital Writing Contest in 2008 and 2011. I began writing on a manual green Olivetti typewriter, but I don’t miss having poems flavoured with correction fluid and cross-outs.

No-Comfort Zone Week Ending April 8

This week, I have made some progress on personal issues and I’m feeling a bit more optimistic about things in general. I am also realizing that I have been putting a lot of pressure on myself with unrealistic expectations. Not a new thing, but new for me to accepting that I don’t really need to do many of these things that I am being self-critical about. It is a liberating feeling. I still have a lot of work to do on attitude, but it’s starting to go the right way. Success in the No-Comfort Zone is not always what we started out for it to be!

This week I am preparing for the Quebec workshop, which takes place next weekend. Nervous about it, yes. The instructor is a very well-known Canadian poet, and editor of one of the major national journals.  But so were the first two, Barry Dempster and Roo Borson. I learned a lot from both.

Looking forward to the opportunity, then, to work with John Barton.

Carol A. Stephen

 

Day 8 NaPoWriMo Easter Sunday Walk

 

 

 

Carol A. Stephen

 

Today’s prompt is to walk with a notebook, observing, and then to sit and write.  Here in Eastern Ontario, the day is bright and blue with the promise of 14 degrees Celsius later on. Spring doesn’t arrive as early as it does in Toronto, which is one of the things I truly miss about my hometown. Nevertheless, it does arrive, unexpectedly showing itself in corners of gardens. My poem tries to capture this a little. Just as a note, Carleton Place, not far from Ottawa, is on the banks of the Mississippi River. (No, not the mighty one, but a pretty river just the same!)

Carleton Place on the Mississippi

 

 

 

Walking Along the Other Mississippi 

Easter Sunday, Lanark County, Eastern Ontario

Sun rises early now, the morning bright
blue outlining maple branches,
bare but promising buds.
Birds gather round feeders, songs
sounding Easter morning hymns of praise

for spring arriving, chasing away the last
of winter’s white. Lilac offers green hints
of purple blossoms, coming attractions.

Along Lake Avenue, a surprise of daffodils,
full-bloomed where micro-climate pockets
already welcome warming air.
Forsythia flaunts yellow, green leaves of tulips tease,
early scarlet flutes not ready for their close-ups.

On the back steps, squirrels have found the nuts
their own Easter hunt successful. Lanark County
celebrates spring’s arrival, nature’s own flourish
grander than any man-made Easter parade.

Carol A. Stephen
April 8, 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 7 NaPoWriMo Layers of Saturation

Carol A. Stephen

Today the prompt is to write a poem where everything is a particular colour or that colour predominates. Hope this is not too prosaic…

 

Layers of Saturation

The days close windows, shutter
sky in purple cloud, sending the sun
somewhere south and west.

When moon rises, she’s wrapped herself
in the purple midnight we call black,
yet purple even so.

Light from white stars filters
the line of purple through layers of night,
layers of amaranth, their haloes shimmer violet

rain descending, sending a mist
of red-blue tears. At sunrise,
beneath the trees, purple crocuses.

Closeup of crocuses in early afternoon light.

crocuses (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Carol A. Stephen
April 7, 2012

Day 6 NaPoWriMo and my 100th post! An Elephant poem

So today’s prompt is to write an animal poem, incorporating some factual material. This prompt coincided with a forward from a friend about elephant rescue, and the link at NaPoWriMo to elephant facts. Besides, I have always had a special fondness for elephants, ever since childhood, when my favourite was a stuffed elephant, not your usual stuffed bear. I remember the little lullaby it played. And I remember my mother washing it to clean its dirty white, only to have it turn pink when the dye from its  red parts ran in the water (what WERE those parts? I can’t remember that now!) I had written an elephant poem draft awhile ago, which I have incorporated into a new draft today.

Elephant, Okovnago Delta, Botswana, Africa.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Giant of Africa

This cumbersome beast brought low behind zoo walls
gazes at gawkers with a sad wrinkled eye. A solitary grief.
Perhaps he mourns his lost savannah, his herd back home,
too far distant to hear his low-frequency laments.
Instead, his growled rumble greets captive companions,
gathered at shared water source, rubbing each other
with tender affection, their raised trunks in salutation,
or gentle tusks left or right, whichever each may favour.

While he grazes on grass, lunches on leaves, teases down
his feast of twigs, bark and seed pods, he remembers
days of freedom, years of circus dancing, just another
trained bear, driven by animals of lower intelligence.
Though equal in cortex and neuron, his human master
inferior in self-knowledge and compassion.

Imagine altruism in this giant of Africa. What fear twists
in the human mind that allows us to torture and degrade?
We poach him to extinction, stand motionless as
the majesty of Elephant fades into natural history—
one more once was.

Carol A. Stephen

Carol A. Stephen

April 6, 2012