PO FEST 2017

Winding up and rounding off – aside from a few bonus cards … mine are sent and received, I think …Group Six this year for me … some old friends, some new … it was, as always, rewarding and fun.

Again – here’s the display of cards I picked from to send:

Postcards sending 2017

Forgot to mention – all my poems this year begin with a line from one of the late, great, Leonard Cohen’s poems,and are credited to him. It’s my small way of paying tribute to the Canadian wordsmith and lover of all things poetic, including women.



The summer lapsed away*
its green-like guile sank into sand
and autumn stole across the cliffs
Smearing hues of brilliance
to shimmer with the morn
An impressionist’s palette
‘neath a deadened sky.

*line by Emily DickinsonScar Cliff small web

Come September, the Poems and Postcards sent in August 2015

POSTCARD PHOTOS for poems - web lrg 1st setFor the third year in a row…I’m taking part in the wonderful Postcard Challenge … a poem-a-day on a postcard, a different one each day to a different person on a list from founder Paul Nelson, and sending it to said person … thirty-one different souls around the globe. And in return, I will receive (hopefully) thirty-one cards from the thirty-one named persons above mine on the list…

One of the neatest experiences of which I’ve had the good fortune to partake…stay tuned for more information.

Oh – I’m writing this on August 6th and I’ve already received four cards! And yes, that’s a record for me. How many have I sent? Nevah mind…One cool thing, though … all of my cards this year are professionally printed cards made from my own photos … let me see if I can find the collage photo of the first half ….

POSTCARDS FROM AUGUST 2014 (the year of the enigmatic numbering…)

On the following pages are the postcards I sent out this year…they are mostly in the order I sent them (except for three which I forgot because I was stamp-less for awhile…those got lumped in with the thirteen extras I had, and sent in early September, so apologies to Amanda, Anthony and Judy from my list; your cards are now on the way)…

To be a little clearer, to get to any one postcard, click on the title or date on the menu running down the right side of the page and it will take you right there…on the bottom of those pages, you may click to go to the next or previous postcard poem, or you can backspace to this page and look for another date and or poem. Clear as mud, yes?

So, just to confuse things further…sometimes the number beside the “title” coincides with the number the person is on the list…sometimes, the number coincides with the date of August the card was to be sent out (not always bang on as being from Canada,I know it takes some of mine longer to get to certain places in the US then other places, so I often sent mine in batches). I guess what I’m saying is … don’t try and figure out the numbers if you can’t…

Oh, and just to confuse the issue further…I love enigmas…some of the titles are actual titles…e.g “A Puddle of Pug” but most are quotations from the great Lawrence Ferlinghetti (and attributed to him on the postcard) – his quote was often the impetus for the poem (I’m sure I’ve explained elsewhere about response or turn-around poems: they don’t work especially well for me because of where I live and how long it takes and yada, yada, yada.) Happily though, even with typing my poems because of my gnarly hands, I was pretty much able to execute my editor this year and go with a first draft…huge for me.

Below is a photo of the postcards I’ve received so far (it’s September 3)…I’m still expecting a few more so might be posting a second shot somewhere down the road. Let me just add in case it isn’t clear, I loved doing this both years but this year it was FANTASTIC! Thanks Paul for all you did and thanks to all who participated…what a great community of poets and postcarders…


(3) “He drowned himself in a pool”*

and everyone said she knew why
But she dabbed on her scent, and she held
high her head, carried on with her days,
using enviable calm…
He drowned himself in a pool
The words sang in her mind like a hymn
But she tapped her heels to a different beat
She kept herself far from water
*(from One of Us Cannot Be Wrong by L.Cohen)


(2) “Let me come into the storm”*


The voice heard in the wind, a harridan’s
screeching it was; louder than thunder
it pleaded and moaned—but its wants were too
eerie for most—to come into the storm?
What did that mean? No-one cared to find out…
*(from One of Us Cannot Be Wrong by L.Cohen)

1) “I lit a thin green candle”

its glow warmed half the night
and even though you still weren’t here
my heart felt almost light
Not my mind though, nor my thoughts
They’re still emptied out; not all the candles
in the world can change that fact about

*(from One of Us Cannot Be Wrong by L.Cohen)



Tell me what balloons know, you asked me
yesterday – are they filled with stuff like brains?
Do they think like I do, or do they just sleep
all the time? I admit I did not know what to say,
so said nothing for a bit. Finally, you told
me it was okay, that no-one seemed to know;
I guess you’ve been asking around, and balloon
experts are hard to come by … hmm.
Black and White Balloons


Known for cowboys and rodeos, calf-roping
and horse-back riding…it is always surprising
when the skyscrapers spring out of the bald
Prairie, and they do. A big city with a
small-town feel – you can see the mountains
most days if the weather’s good. And downtown
is large enough and cosmopolitan enough to be
closed down to traffic. It’s an amazing place
to shop, dine, and party … and Stampede’s
a whole nother fine time.
Calgary skyscraper


It has been months now that I’ve seen you
hopping about that roof over there.
You perch on the chimney and then go to
the peak…then bounce along the shingles
Then off to the tree, back to the roof
I wonder where you sleep – do you have
a nest over there? Is it under an eave?
You don’t seem to make a sound but
maybe it gets lost with all the cawing
from the murderous crows around here
Maybe you are a crow – a baby – it’s hard
to tell – even with binoculars…I like you
Don’t fly away, okay?
Neighbours Bird 2015


“I don’t know,” the male says to the female; she
hunkers down, great with child, but still
they have no nest and she is very put out.
He, however, is concerned – snow has
been unpredictable and they’ve only just
turned brown. They still have bits of white
showing. She turns her back on him. Oh well,
better get moving or they’ll be splats on the
road, he knows it … he doesn’t want that for
certain. He’ll find them a place to burrow.
He hates when she’s mad.
Hares at Glenora