Monthly Archives: April 2014

My Favourite Poet: Gordon Lightfoot

Posted on April 30, 2014 by cdsmiller17

A native of Simcoe County, Gordon Lightfoot began his singing career by performing in and around Orillia. After remaining obscure for many years, he began to gain the recognition he deserved when the folk group, Peter, Paul and Mary, recorded … Continue reading →

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Haiku

Posted on April 30, 2014 by cdsmiller17

Haiku poetry is a style that originated in Japan. According to Wikipedia, it is typically characterized by three qualities: The essence of haiku is “cutting” (kiru). This is often represented by the juxtaposition of two images or ideas and a … Continue reading →

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Spiritus Sanctus

Posted on April 29, 2014 by cdsmiller17

In my series of sonnets called Spiritus Sanctus, I wrote several poems that would act as reminders of some spiritual truths I had absorbed over the years. For example, the following poem highlights Jesus` sayings on the cross.  Seven Last … Continue reading →

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My Mother

Posted on April 28, 2014 by cdsmiller17

Now here is a woman that gave me the very foundation of my life. (Don’t they all?) I’ve spent the better part of seven years researching her family tree, and my father’s family tree, on ancestry.ca. She didn’t know her … Continue reading →

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Echoes: Reincarnation or Channelling?

Posted on April 27, 2014 by cdsmiller17

Like most students in high school, I endured whatever was thrown at me, knowing that by doing so I was furthering my education. One of the poems we were exposed to was The Tyger by William Blake. What made it … Continue reading →

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Childhood

Posted on April 26, 2014 by cdsmiller17

I’m sure we all have had one: that period of uncertainty that accompanies our earliest memories. Mine was filled with a lot of doubt, as the following sonnet attests.   Thunderclap Listening in the dark for thunderclaps Incites my mind … Continue reading →

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Dreaming

Posted on April 25, 2014 by cdsmiller17

What is it that everyone does every night, week after week, year after year, but so few of us remember the next morning? What is it that creates a feeling of strangeness when we think about it? What is it … Continue reading →

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