All Poems
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The Digger's Song
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
Scrape the bottom of the hole: gather up the stuff! Fossick in the crannies, lest you leave a grain behind!Just another shovelful and that'll be enough-- Now we'll take it to the bank and see what we can find
The Demon Snow-shoes
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
The snow lies deep on hill and dale,In rocky gulch and grassy vale:The tiny, trickling, tumbling fallsAre frozen 'twixt their rocky wallsThat grey and brown look silent downUpon Kiandra's shrouded town
At Devlin's Siding
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
What made the porter stare so hard? what made the porter stareAnd eye the tall young woman and the bundle that she bare?
To One on her Birthday
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
How shall I choose to wish you happinessOn this day or another? Your life's wayHas passed already far beyond our guess,Who only watch and wait for you and pray
The Sublime
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
To stand upon a windy pinnacle,Beneath the infinite blue of the blue noon,And underfoot a valley terribleAs that dim gulf, where sense and being swoonWhen the soul parts; a giant valley strewnWith giant rocks; asleep, and vast, and still,And far away
On the Shortness of Time
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
If I could live without the thought of death,Forgetful of time's waste, the soul's decay,I would not ask for other joy than breath,With light and sound of birds and the sun's ray
The Mockery of Life
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
God! What a mockery is this life of ours!Cast forth in blood and pain from our mother's womb,Most like an excrement, and weeping showersOf senseless tears: unreasoning, naked, dumb,The symbol of all weakness and the sum:Our very life a sufferance
Where is the soul to find
© Blodgett E. D.
Where is the soul to find its truest orientif not within the mind of cats, when they consent?
Métis
© Blodgett E. D.
Speak the great names: Fort Qu'Appelle,St Isidore de Bellevue, Grand Coteau,Batoche, Fort Walsh, Frog Lake and Cut Knife Hill,Seven Oaks and the rest of Rupert's Land,and say what lies there between: bonesthe wind gives back, bones of buffalo, bonesof the hunters, bones of Blackfoot, Cree and Blood,the prairie piled white with hunts, allbone brothers under sun
History
© Blodgett E. D.
When we are old, our eyes will open wide and everything we knewwill exit through them, standing here and there, domestic order oftables, chairs and bed making room for what we are -- a rosethat passed between our hands will flower there, a place where wewere walking in a change of light, a star that we had shared when wewere far apart -- and we will gaze upon them, moving through our eyes
Herons step with care
© Blodgett E. D.
Herons step with care across the shore: they weaveinto the sand their bare calligraphy and leave.
The eyes of toads are great
© Blodgett E. D.
The eyes of toads are great wells of sadness: wheredo they gaze but into fate to see nothing there?
Dead Reckoning
© Blodgett E. D.
Now that death has entered you, sooner than I think it willarrive in me, I fear to look into your eyes and see the sungrowing dimmer there
Coyotes
© Blodgett E. D.
Coyotes wake when we lie down upon the verge of sleep enclosed,intent upon pursuits that take them through the night, always nearby,the clamour of their sudden laughter rising up beside us
Birth
© Blodgett E. D.
When tears come, they do not come as water in the eyes, they comeas children you have lost, beautiful faces of tears falling pastinto lives that you shall never know
All
© Blodgett E. D.
This is all that we will leave behind -- a line of words and atthe end a little silence, then another word that someone elsemight speak, and speaking speak the only thing that I have given you,and folded it in words that you have given back, this long duetthat is the you and I that we become, a tree that flowers wherewe used to stand, and after flowers apples that begin to fillthe air in autumn light, a tree that is a dream of apples where
the light that fills our eyes when we are in each other's gaze is thatrefulgence that becomes an apple through the turning year, a sunthat hangs so lightly on the branch that just the merest breath might carryit away, the breath the words that cast us up in one embrace,words that made of us the sun and apples and autumnal airs --these are all I had for you, the little world where we arebut are another self that is not ours, asleep inside the light
