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Poems

Life, Poems

Authenticity

The problem with getting older

Is you get to a place where

you don’t care to be

admired any more,

only valued,

which is more important anyway

–you want to be with those

that see you for who you are

without flinching–

everyone else is

seeing an image

they hope one day to attain

or maybe the picture you have painted

with your smiling photos

on social media

(forgive me if I am cynical or just

more honest

than I used to be)

everyone knows

the paint is chipped

only a few can

see what lies beneath

and know that

it is beautiful

August 26, 2017

 

 

Poems

New Runners

a tad late, but not to worry

there are many kind people here

almost all over fifty.

First,

we turn down

George Street

in single file

the lake is bluer than I’ve seen it

it’s the season for

hydrangeas, watch them bob

with their blooms of

white and green,

and pink-brown edges,

keep to the trail,

along

the perfect boxwood hedges,

now we pass

the lawn bowling club;

the houses south of Lakeshore

make us envious,

with their parterre gardens, but

we don’t say that, only

it’s so magical in the evening,

after a downpour,

and the perfect temperature

for a lakeside run.

Fifteen seconds more,

we lean into the hill,

arms beating,

shoulders down,

relaxed,

and feeling pleased

to have joined

the ranks

of runners.

Hilary Shantz

August 23, 2017

 

Poems

blue heron

blue heron

he was just there
on the other side
of the creek
I think he saw us
Still-bound
trying not to
Move or breathe
No flight from him
His halcyon steps
deft and light
on the round-grey pebbles
it was a peaceful morning
in the shadowed treeness
hearts at rest
all thought of fish
would come later

August 23, 2017

Poems

Inspiration

thoughts

hovering

in space

like

tiny

butterflies

with

their

silent

wings

that

make

no sound

until

they

land

upon

a

flower

and

gracefully

confer

a

kiss

 

Hilary Shantz

August 4, 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life, Poems

My neighbour Agatha

When we moved into the neighbourhood a few years ago, we noticed an elderly lady who would spend her days outside sweeping leaves on the street.  Sadly, she is now in a retirement home, due to Altzheimers.  I miss seeing her.

 

My Neighbour Agatha

Too many minutes

In an hour.

I stare out the window.

More dead leaves on the street,

Shall I go and sweep them up?

Every day I clean, I clean

Did you know I worked at Sobey’s

At the deli counter

Corner of Kerr and Speers

Where the Shoppers is now?

Come closer

I tell you something

In Prussia, my father died

When I was a little girl

He wasn’t sick

It was the war, you know.

Otto lost a finger

In a machine

In Germany

Did you notice?

Dig deeper

I show you how

To divide

The hostas properly

With a shovel.

Take as many as you want.

I put the dead leaves

From the street

In my compost pile

Over there

Nobody wants them anyway

That’s why my tomatoes

Are so big

We had a cottage once

Beside a lake, see the photo?

I made a German cake today

Sit with me

I make some tea

What is your name dear?

 

Hilary Shantz

August 2, 2017