The Poetry Marathon

The first time that I saw moonlight

by canoe

I was awe-

struck!

Spread out before me

on a black watery cloth,

lay jewels of sparkling Light.!

I was amazed

by the bright light

cast by the climbing moon

and mesmerized by the watery Lake,

turned molten black.

Absolute silence

created a void

full

Of Beauty

And Peace!

My Canoe Companion

carried a spare flashlight in hand,

While I wore my headlamp attached to

The brim of my cap.

We paddled in silence-

Enjoying our companionship and

the silence of the lake-

silence only broken by

the occasional cry of a nearby loon-

a true symbol of summertime on a northern lake!

We continued to paddle in silence-

highlighted by the glow of the moon

Surrounded and swaddled

by the nearby canopy

Of birch and cedar tress,

My canoe companion and I.

Ingrid Exner, 2016

I wait until the shadows come,

And darkness fills this space.

I venture out into the streets,

To avoid a familiar face.

I had a life, I had a job

and even money too!

But life can throw up hurdles

An even for you too!

Do not judge me by my look-

My tangled greasy hair!

I once wore a crown with jewels

Holding back my golden hair.

My skin was once like butter

Creamy and soft to the touch

My fingers were decorated and painted

But now they do not look like much.

I once spoke to many and

Now heard by very few-

My only audience being those

I wish I never knew.

I had a life, I had a job

I had more than even you.

Please do not judge me based

On facts you never knew.

Ingrid Exner, 2016

Sky breaks through the morning clouds

bestowing healing Light,

Bathing Lands in beams of heat

And energy just right,

To strengthen crops, all animals

And even you and me-

this Blessing of the morning

was meant for all to see.

At this time,

in early morn

I bend my head and pray

Thankful for the many gifts I have

From day-to-day!

From eyes that see the beautiful hills

To ears that hear the stream

I am blessed with these wonderful senses

That allow me to live my dream.

Capturing the natural Beauty

With camera in hand,

I venture far and wide

For pictures of this Land.

To celebrate its glory and,

Sing its praises too,

Today, I am writing this

especially for YOU!

Ingrid Exner, 2016

Wood creaks and echoes

worn with

age and use.

My breathe catches

in this biting autumn air

I bury myself deeper

into warm comfort of

my parka.

Solitude and cold

Empty feelings

Reflections of the mountains

Cover the streams.

Hollow images of

Nature as it has been.

Smooth wooden railing

guides my hands forward,

beckoning me to move forward.

Mountains spring up in the distance

wearing caps of fresh virgin snow.

Reflections of the mountains

Cover the streams.

Empty images of

Nature as it has been.

The wind rattles

Loose floor boards of

The walkway as more wind moans

Its complaints

From all directions

Surrounding me

And, reminding Me that

I am Alone.

Shoulders slumping and fingers thumping,

The keyboard is worn down from the incessant tapping.

Tap, Tap Tap

One more poem done in time!

The keyboard is worn down from the incessant tapping.

The effort to stay awake and alert is growing.

I am slowing down but I cannot…one more poem done!

Breathe deeply, eyes forward and continue!

The effort to stay awake and alert is growing.

I can feel my fingers beginning to curl-not wanting to do more!

I shake my hands to stay awake and release any tension. Breathe deeply, eyes forward and continue!

This is going to be a long four hours!

I can feel my fingers beginning to curl from overuse.

The words are beginning to blur together.

I can feel my fingers continuing to curl-not wanting to do more!

Must keep going!

Ingrid Exner, 2016.

Can one

ever be

so bold

when one

is not

too old?

When I was a child,

the adults often asked,

“Why are you so bold?”

You are too young to be so bold!” I was often told.

To which I replied

that being bold

had absolutely nothing

to do with being old.

Instead, I believe that

being bold is like

being brave. One can be as bold and,

as brave as a lion

at any age.

The water gently and rhythmically lapped against the sides of the canoe as the bow cut through the blue water. The canoe rocked gently almost lulling us to sleep. Everywhere you looked, it was a panorama of natural beauty. Blue Spruce and white pine rose high on rocky cliffs of Canadian Shield and juniper bushes decorated the shoreline rock. I leaned back into my seat and tried to extend my legs in front of me. This canoe/kayak combination of a wooden canoe slid through the water like a dream but the choppy water was making it more difficult to paddle and paddle straight. Since the boat was closer to the water level, it also meant that any slight wave flipped over the bow and splashed the person sitting in the front and, that person just happened to be me. When we did happen to come across a wave or when a boat came close to us, Cam and I tried our best to slow down, stop paddling and ride the wave. This wave surfing was fun and reminded me of riding the roller coasters at local fairs when I was very, very young. We rode a lot of waves on Georgian Bay during our recent visit. And, I have to say that my favourite “wave surfing” came on our return trip from Huckleberry Island. The winds had risen while we were on the island and we left the island heading out into white caps. The beginning of the trip was difficult as more than a few waves splashed into the wooden canoe soaking me and many of the items I had in the front of the canoe. Luckily, I had remembered to bring my plastic poncho which I put over the items in the front of the canoe. So, while I still had to bail out the water that came in from the wave, I had much less water to bail out on the return trip. And, once we started to head back to the island, the waves were behind us, pushing us forward and we safely surfed toward shore in our wooden canoe.

Waves lapping gently

Laughing waters carried us

Safely to the shore.

Ingrid Exner, 2016.

Your technobable

Leaves me unnaturally

Disconnected.

Ingrid Exner, 2016.

I knew this lady from Holland and Greta was her name.

She emigrated here from Holland and her neighbours were never the same.

She chose this small town with her husband in tow

Of their future adventures little did they know.

For years they lived happily in the idyllic small town

Her gregarious nature became country re-known.

Her days spent gossiping and sharing good stories grew

I can still recall her evening shore line  walks

And the way her voice rose and fell during her animated talks.

I still walk to the water’s edge and wait for the sound,

Of Greta’s laughter that once floated through the air.

A beautiful laughter of innocence without care.

By Ingrid Exner, copyright 2016.

Before Darkness…

I rise like the Sun!

Before Darkness…

My soul dances

in praise

of the new day!

Before Darkness…

My thoughts buzz like

the

humming of bees.

Images and expressions

take wing

like beautiful butterflies

floating freely.

My thoughts are as free

as the air itself!

And, my spirit sings!

All this,

Before Darkness.

Before Darkness

There is light.

And, great insight.

The darkness welcomes others

but it is NOT for me.

Darkness is simply

a collection of moments

whose worth,

I do not see.

Ingrid Exner, 2016.