we are carried. 
in bellies. in arms. 
in love. in hope. 
in caskets. in urns. 
in grief. in memories. 
our whole lives 
and into the next 
we are carried. 

by Sara Rian

A hug

can do so many things

It warms

It holds

It provides a place

for love to grow

A hug

is free

free

to receive

and free

to give away

A hug

can be strong

or timid

but they all

resonate

trust and hope

A hug

consoles

and shares

all of life’s

great despairs

But most of all

A hug

travels

through the arms

into hearts

That now

beat as one.

By: Jay Arthur

      There’s a room in my house

       No one can see

       It’s all closed off

       Full of memories

       of you

       There’s a door to that room

       No entrance is allowed

       You went away and left me

       Without a key

       Won’t you come back and open it for me

       Closed for renovations

       Cobwebs and dust running free

       Ain’t no grand re-opening

       Planned just yet

       you see

       Everybody’s watching

       Wondering what they can do

       It’s just a part of my brain

       Been disconnected by you

       yea you

       you make me cry the whole night through

       a roomful a roomful

       a roomful of memories

       a roomful a roomful

       a roomful of memories

Poem by: Jay Arthur

Picture by: Sylvia Arthur

When I get to Heaven
I’m gonna shake God’s hand
Thank him for more blessings
Than one man can stand
Then I’m gonna get a guitar
And start a Rock and Roll band
Check into a swell hotel
Ain’t the ‘Afterlife’ grand!

And then I’m gonna get a cocktail
Vodka and Ginger Ale
Yeah, I’m gonna smoke a cigarette
That’s nine miles long
I’m gonna kiss that pretty girl
On the Tilt a Whirl
‘Cause this old man is going to town

Then as God as my witness
I’m gettin’ back into show business
I’m gonna open up a nightclub called
‘The Tree of Forgiveness’
And forgive everybody
Ever done me any harm
I might even invite a few choice critics
Those syphilitic parasitics
Buy ’em a pint of Smithwick’s
And smothert’em with my charm

‘Cause then I’m gonna get a cocktail
Vodka and Ginger Ale
Yeah, I’m gonna smoke a cigarette
That’s nine miles long
I’m gonna kiss that pretty girl
On the Tilt a Whirl
Yeah this old man is going to town

Yeah when I get to heaven
I’m gonna take
That wristwatch off my arm
What are you gonna do with time
After you’ve bought the farm
And them I’m gonna go find my Mom and Dad
And good old brother Doug
Well I bet him and cousin Jackie
Are still cuttin’ up a rug
Wanna see all my mama’s sisters
‘Cause that’s where all the love starts
I miss ’em all like crazy
Bless their little hearts
And I always will remember
These words my daddy said
He said, “Buddy, when you’re dead
You’re a dead peckerhead”
I hope to prove him wrong
That is … when I get to heaven

‘Cause I’m gonna have a cocktail
Vodka and Ginger Ale
Gonna smoke a cigarette
That’s nine miles long
I’m gonna kiss that pretty girl
On the Tilt a Whirl
Yeah this old man is going to town
Yeah this old man is going to town

Poem by: John Prine

Picture by: Sylvia Arthur

Ah rib night

what a delight

A fully

demanding

chore of joy

Keeping clean

while diving in

leading

with your head

The marvellous meat

and sauce

and greed

colliding

as people

break bread

figuratively

Adam gave to Eve

what we

are now to eat

Ah rib night

pass the meat

please!

Poem by, Jay Arthur

This is a repost.

Work Out Song

Good to go and get your work out on

Good to go and get your body strong

If you like to eat and play all day

Listen to the healthy words I say

If you want to get your mind in tune

Take a listen what you got to do

Don’t eat the bad stuff that will take away

A healthy body that you use all day

So what you do is chose wise healthy food

And even if you are not in the mood

Get off your butt and get your exercise

And you will get a great big prize

Health! Health! and a happy mind

Kind of go together when you take some time

So keep a focus on it every day

And look at it like a little way to play

And when you’re fighting a bad attitude

Put on some music to get you in the mood

No need to worry about your appetite

Working out will make that part all right

Poem by: Sue Michaud

“Back Flip” Picture by: Sylvia Arthur

The  Picture

This picture seems like a realistic still life, but look closer and you’ll see its layered with splashes and splatters of paint. I think the painterly expressiveness makes it feel happy and good. Just like spaghetti.

The  Poem

This time I tried something new and wrote my own little poem.

 

Spaghetti is pasta with a sauce sure to please

But it’s even better sprinkled with cheese

It swirls and twirls and makes my lips slurp.

And if I eat it too fast, out comes a burp.

 

This comfort food that I eat with delight,

could be served at my table almost every night

It leaves me satisfied, fills up my tummy.

So I pulled out this canvas to paint something yummy.

 

Poem and Picture by: Sylvia Arthur ©

Since it is the Easter season I thought a little prayer might be appropriate.

The Lord’s Prayer

Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy Name,
thy kingdom come,
thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those
who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom,
and the power, and the glory,
for ever and ever. Amen.

 

 

Picture by: Sylvia Arthur (etching with hand written text)

The Poem

This poem seemed obscure in it’s meaning, but felt very heavy. I realized it was about abortion and the eternal moral decision that cannot be undone.

 

The Picture

This is an image that celebrates birth in all its messy, bloody, splendour.

 

Signals

 

Silence,

false truth in this inspiration

 

Words,

narrated.

 

The story teller in the

corridor

closing the door.

 

These thoughts

forever……..

unsure.

 

This presence conceals itself.

 

Mother

to

the unborn.

 

human existence

swept away

 

pools of daily fresh

blood on the floor.

 

The tide takes form,

ending,

 

Passages of time,

 

signals

 

your own

faithless preparations.

 

Knowledge is certainty,

Lack of crime

 

shades improvement,

 

strengthening desires

to prolong your delusions.

 

Memory ascribes

moral destiny

 

to justify destruction

as custom

contests conformity,

 

conscience

and reality must

Strike balance.

 

Poem By: Sue Michaud

 

 

Picture By: Sylvia Arthur

 

The Poem

This poem takes us back to one Sunday in a little Salvation Army Church where we all stood and joined hands to pray. The poem seems to speak of those Christians who hold onto their faith tightly in the moment, only to forget it later in the week.

The Picture

These words bring to mind an image of community and faith. When all is good, we stand strong, supporting one another. But when things turn bad we often fall apart and separate. Those are the feelings I have “let out” in this picture.

 

A Little Poem for Sunday

I remember

the passion

of the people at the time

the crisis

the joining of the hands

 

the circle

united we will stand

and as the song predicts

divided

we’ll fall

 

So now as we all return to float

living on the stall

waiting for the world

to call

we pocket all of our courage

courtesies and grace

keeping them close

until somebody needs an ace

 

then we’ll play them all

balls to the wall

go for broke

be a winner after all

 

In God we trust

when it is handy or close

but from a distance

is just a remnant of a ghost

When the night comes calling

and we wish to rest

what if it’s His time

to stall, to forget

 

the circle

united we will stand

and as the song predicts

divided

we’ll fall

 

Poem By: Jay Arthur

 

Picture By: Sylvia Arthur

Sylvia Arthur ©