Vanessa Shields's Blog, page 45

Poem 66 – In My Teens Walking Home – University Avenue

In My Teens Walking Home – University Avenue

I used to walk home from downtown
alone
moving with the energy that resides
on the other side of exhaustion
fear not strong enough to hold
onto my choices and make me
think twice about the danger of
a lone teen moving in the 2am-s
of a wide open Sunday morning

I was never afraid
when I felt the downward slope
of the University Avenue bridge
the safe tug of close-to-home
gathered around my torso like a belt
past Slater and the one gray house
where I & C lived past the ornate
curves of the lawyer’s office the tired
gas station and the blaring lights
of the ever-name-changing convenience
store that was always busy

I’d look at the sagging shell of
Grace Hospital and feel the ghosts
of babies born and patients past
flutter at the back of my salt-sweaty
neck but I wasn’t afraid

The smell of bacon lingering over
Skippy’s Diner like a welcome flag
and the red fire of the Shin Shin sign
reminded me how hungry I was

Even on that one night when the
rust-eaten Oldsmobile slowed to
match my pace blackened windows
like doors to Death’s danger den
I was certain I’d reach home unharmed
and I did left in the smoky rubber
squeal of assholes onto other darknesses

I kept walking home past Oak and the
blocky business building to the calm
corner of Elm my street waiting for
the steady gait of my Doc Marten-ed soles
to pound gently the pavement to our duplex

Once inside I’d shudder hard under the
pressing rain of a hot shower delirious
with post-dancing debility and scrub
the invisible layer of cigarette smoke
Canadian beer body odour and the
sadness of yet another night out
not having been kissed
I’d wash it all away let the
night swirl down the drain

Only my ears could hold
what was left of the venture
my heartbeat flapping like wings
against cartilage then banging out
the rhythm of the darkness of dreams
unmet and dreams forthcoming

The fear of never being in love
a dagger more terrifying than any
walk home in a pendulum swing
above me sharpening on the
steal line of dawn’s fertile opening

Have a beautiful Sunday, writers!

Save the Date! Book Launch!

Mark your calendars for Thursday, April 29, 2021 and join me and special guest host Charis Cotter as we celebrate the launch of my new collection of poetry ‘thimbles’, published by Palimpsest Press. This is a virtual event that starts at 7:30pm. Zoom link will be available soon!

This event will feature a reading, discussion, Q&A and book signing. To pre-order a copy of ‘thimbles’, please click HERE. If you’d like me to sign your book at the launch, please let me know by emailing me ahead at shieldsvanessa@gmail.com.

Thank you!

Coming 2021!

Poem 65 – Thrum

Thrum

I awake to the
velvety thrum of
heartbeats rushing
in the deeps of my ears
a foreshadowing rhythm
for a day alive with possibility

Before my bones bear down
in the moments my muscles
meet the morning’s whispering light
I am not afraid or worried
not less or better than

I am velvet thrum
blood
rushing
to greet
skin

Poem 64 – More on the Merits of Handwriting a Note

More on the Merits of Handwriting a Note

the time it takes to  
hand write a love note
is far surpassed by 
the love it spreads
through its intended 
receiver

It’s Friday! Oh, how I love Fridays! The sun shines brightly daring us to shine our own brilliant light! Can you feel it?! I hope so.

Did you receive your postage-paid postcard in the mail from Canada Post? I hope so. Be sure to use it. Send some of your delightful love into the heart of a loved one.

And…just wondering what you’re reading?

I just finished Molly of the Mall – Literary Lass & Purveyor of Fine Footwear by Heidi L.M. Jacobs. I give it six out of five golden stars. It’s an A+! I got my book from Biblioasis.

And I was just gifted Rupi Kaur’s new collection home body.

Also on the bedside table are Jude Neale’s latest poetry collection The River Answers…

…and Jillian Boehme’s lasest YA fantasy The Stolen Kingdom.

This is me holding Jillian’s book before her virtual launch this past Wednesday. This is me smelling The Stolen Kingdom. Goodness it smells so damn good.

Joni Mitchell and Carole King are serenading me this morning…do have a wonderful weekend, writers!

Poem 63 – Ode To My Summer Dress

Ode To My Summer Dress

white dress
flowing gently 
around my calves
lacey love hem &
pretty eyelet cleavage cover

you make me feel like
I’m a Whitman poem
drifting in & out of 
grass & self
earthing my naked toes
in the lumpy lush land
oh, white dress
offering my shoulders
to the sun’s tender kisses
you call shivers of delight
to scurry up my spine

this day is dreary
much too cold
for your thin cotton
so in your honour
I defy winter’s
last greedy grasp

I pull tights over my thighs
slide a sweater over my arms
but you cover my hopeful
heart in the knowing that
spring is a song on the
blue jay’s sassy beaks
you & I hear & hold

soon, dear dress
I will bask in the 
wet heat of dewy
dawns – frolic in 
circle dances like 
a princess 

a princess in a 
perfect summer dress

Poem 62 – Ode to my Moustache

Ode to my moustache

soft now
after a pair of weeks
growing
from black dots
in pink skin
like seeds in
tasty fruit
growing
with the hormonal
hurry of my moontime
preparation
tender pimples
distracting my eyes
as you lengthen
into a velvet field
of darkness
growing
despite your right
to be there
I spread cold
smelly Nair over
you in vain
wait ten minutes
feel the tingling burn
then wipe you off
with a tissue
your pieces 
drowning in 
goo
you are the thing
I keep getting rid of
yet you keep
coming back
like a persistent
lover mad with
the foreplay of
kissing my lip
Oh moustache!
I adore your
constant push
for life despite
my reactive 
murdering
you show me
how to emerge
with grace while
accepting the
fate of your 
removal
I learn from you,
moustache
even as I
singe you away
today, my friend
I will leave you
thriving
cover you with
my flowered mask
pet you with my
fingertips as I 
ponder like my
father used to
do with his thick
black mouth mane

Poem 61 – Two Kids Playing

Two Kids Playing

I saw the moon
waxing gibbous
on the blue sky cheek
across the way from
the giddy sun
delirious with day

These two kids
playing in the
allure of azure
assuring me that
miracles happen
because behold!

The moon and the sun
on the same tender
morning frolicking
maskless in the
possibilities of now

Poem 60 – Residue

Residue

Oscar barked
and barked and barked
so that at 2:22am
I was up cursing as I
let him outside

The night was sliced

I curled up bed waiting
for him to summon me again
he did I let him in then
knelt before him
his mid-night servant
cleaning his paws
dirty with the sandy
stardust in the yard

Back in bed slightly delirious
grit between my toes
chill on my shoulders
my dreams nestled into worries

Now the residue of 2:22
is caught under my fingernails

I’ll spend the day
washing my hands
scraping away the
panic of too much to do

It’s March! And didn’t March just march right in over the weekend? The sun was shining. The air was mild. We got out the bikes, pumped up the tires, played catch, played badminton. We opened windows and turned off the heat. Oh, March, you’re here! Oh, Spring, won’t you stay?

I will admit that the shift in the weather, the melting of the dirty snow, the sound of the singing birds got under my skin and lifted me up. Except, as my poem suggests, something happened in the middle of the night that hooked on a weight of worry.

March is an important month. This month I do major prep for my book launch and finalize my book tour. The reality of sharing my new poetry collection with family and friends is getting more and more real. I feel nervous and excited. And, my body wants to take this on as worry and pressure. So, I have to pay strict attention to the pattern that says ‘it’s all too much!’ and turn the worry into joy and gratitude as I do one thing at a time and make the process passionate.

So here’s to a new month. Here’s to a sunny day. Here’s to shifting old patterns into practices of gratitude and the patient doing of one thing at a time.

Poem 59 – Feasts

Feasts

on the shoulder of this drizzle-heavy Sunday morning
I rest my head in contemplation

my stomach growls hungry for a meal in a fancy restaurant
of grand tastes shared with friends who sit close enough
to reach a fork-full of tastes into each other’s mouths

Barack and Michelle, Oprah, Micheal, Lawrence, Candice, Irene,
Langston, Maya, Toni and Audre – oh, there are gangs of us
seated together leaning in nuzzling ideas between sips of bubbly
and gulps of 
change

it’s a strange time that to envision sharing a meal
seems a different shade of relating   stranger still
that for 28 days the collective goal is to devour a 
certain recipe of history when that devouring should
never end

what I learn is that it is critical to keep learning and face
the facts of all the ingredients in the unfinishable feast
that is human interaction    

what I learn is that to dream of exchanging dialogue and 
dessert with friends across time and space is how change
cultivates

may we always be hungry for compassionate sharing
sit to table or bench or ground in the dreamland of 
living the impossible

these feasts are feats of collective communion 
eat up! indulge! shout opa! and cheers! and salut!
on the brave breaths of infinite beginnings that turn
to spreads that last for hours and hours   each of us
drunk on love heavy with hope and itching with 
empowered
action

Poem 58 – Make Lists & Learn

Make Lists & Learn

Anna Julia Cooper
Mary Church Terrell
Mary MacLeod Bethune
Florynce “Flo” Kennedy
Byllye Avery
Angela Davis

this list &
others that
fill pages & 
computer
screens

education breeds compassion
compassion spreads love
love motivates action

Research: 33 things every girl should know about women’s history: from suffragettes to skirt lengths to the E.R.A edited by Tonya Bolden (Thank you, Rebecca, for giving me this book!)

There’s a full moon in Virgo tonight. Don’t forget to go outside and howl. May the wolves run wild tonight!