Invisible #Genocide Lurks

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Grandpa where's the oil?

Invisible Genocide Lurks in Empty Fields of Shame

Earth’s Children are silent …Grandpa why? WHY?

Insanity knocked on the door from arms of shallow remorse

Are you home?

The grime etched its presence into the mind near Jersey

Tomorrow forgot everything that it promised

These pockets have no dreams they were sold on

Fifth Avenue

Absurd, call Pacino tell him the dancers have broken legs

Luck was never in the cards when the ducks make bombs

A cat on a hot tin roof

The night festers in graveyards on the West Side guarded by the Walrus

I am the Walrus; I am the egg man... Goo goo g' joob

 

Mister you’re sitting on my toilet, his flowers long to sing Italian opera

Subways are my ballet in the summer, in the city

Just a cool cat looking for a kitty… in the city

Insanity wastes into grime and etches foul eternities of Warhol with Brando

They dance…Lennon just watches

A cat on a hot tin roof

Persuade me again liberty while we frolic with jewels of poets

Of true science found in the intestines of words …spill guts of souls

Contrast the dark with evil and then the stage caters to lost mortality

There is more sense in teacups whispers Tennessee’s script

Their words ushered by Popes and villains with keys to soured bliss

"There was no key held in existential dreams" said Toto

You can tell by my attitude… that I am most definitely from

 New York

Don’t answer the door, Goo goo g' joob
Call Pacino

There’s a cat on the hot tin roof…



Tell the unborn..."sorry we ate the apple"

T A McNeil

TIME...the Book

June 18,2011

"Strength" - Inspired, Heartfelt Guest's Poem

Strength

By Jennifer Hansford

You’re so strong, otherwise you wouldn’t be here, he said to me one day.

I know those words keep me standing tall, when nothing is going my way.

STRONG runs in my family, and I will make sure it carries on.

Because sometimes strength is all I have when everything else is gone.

The years pass by, but these words will remain in the front of my mind.

I think back to the day these words were spoken, when solace was hard to find.

These words melt away my heartache, and all my fears seem to disappear.

Forever there to remind myself, I’m so strong, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.

@HansfordJen 

WELCOME EVERYONE! 

We are thankful and honoured to receive creative writing works from our readers and followers from Canada, United States and around the world. Many works from our workshop sessions around Toronto are also posted here on a regular basis.

A special thanks to Jennifer Hansford for another wonderful, deeply personal, guest submission. 

Please feel free to send us your own craftings for  posting on this blog. Continuing our mission to educate, entertain, but most importantly - EMPOWER!

Supporting the global movement for the education, liberation and equality of women, worldwide.

The Woman in the Arena

The Woman in the 

Arena

(What Roosevelt should have said.)

"It is not the critic who counts; not the woman who points out how the strong woman stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. 

The credit belongs to the woman who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends herself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if she fails, at least fails while daring greatly...

... so that her place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

T. McNeil

Toronto, 2015

Welcome All! 

We are thankful and honoured to receive creative writing works from our members, readers and followers from Canada, United States and around the world. Many works from our workshop sessions around Toronto are be posted here on a regular basis.

Please feel free to send us your own craftings for  posting on our blog. Continuing our mission to educate, entertain, but most importantly - 

EMPOWER!

Supporting the global movement for the education, liberation and equality of women, worldwide.

    

What I Need Her to Have - Member's Musing

What I Need Her to Have

Glamour, it may be, is an ancient mystical word for fairie magic.

Bigger than my fairie’s body are her wings, which are dragonfly-type due to maternal ancestry or genetic mutation, she can’t remember.

Glamour in this original sense refers not to the person, nor even to her broad filmy wings, but to the sunlight which shines through the film at dawn on misty days.

Such light is changed, passing through fairie wing-film.  The colour and shimmer and rays are not their old selves, but become as flashes -- green, red, gold -- inside a bright kalaidoscope.

Reubin Apple

Toronto, 2016

WELCOME ! 

We are thankful and honoured to receive creative writing works from our members, readers and followers from Canada, United States and around the world. Many works from our workshop sessions around Toronto are be posted here on a regular basis.

Please feel free to send us your own craftings for  posting on our blog. Continuing our mission to educate, entertain, but most importantly - 

EMPOWER!

Supporting the global movement for the education, liberation and equality of women, worldwide.

Just A Little of That Human Touch - Emotive, Member's Poem

Just a Little of That Human Touch

 By D.D. (Meetup Member)



A little of human touch

May not seem like much

When all alone almost in despair

Know that someone else does care

When oh, where? you ask to find

A little of that human touch

In many places in this world

Amoung the chaos is where you will find

The love and affection of those who care

Having that little bit of human touch

To share…

St Felix Centre, Toronto

December, 2015

"Light" - Beautiful, Insightful Guest's Poem

Light

By Jennifer Hansford

When a pen is between my fingers, there’s a light that fills my soul.

A special place for me to heal, and the only place I can be consoled.

The calmness and peace that envelopes me, is how I face each day.

To contribute something meaningful to the world, in some small way.

I close my eyes and see this light, and it feels like a hug from up above.

I create the world I want to have, and fill myself with love.

When a pen is between my fingers, it’s as though my lungs fill with air.

Giving me life, letting me breathe, and frees me from despair.

I create person I want to be when my goals aren’t in my sight.

When a pen is between my fingers, I turn the darkness into light

WELCOME EVERYONE! 

We are thankful and honoured to receive creative writing works from our readers and followers from Canada, United States and around the world. Many works from our workshop sessions around Toronto will be posted here on a weekly basis.

Please feel free to send us your own craftings for  posting on this blog. A special thanks to Jennifer Hansford for this wonderful, inaugural guest- submission. Continuing our mission to educate, entertain, but most importantly - EMPOWER!

@HansfordJen 

Here is a little more background about her; the

 song and its podcast.

Supporting the global movement for the education, liberation and equality of women, worldwide.

"Today is the moment..."

Today is the moment, that's what 
living is...

Today the dream begins

Today is a new day

When the mountains are high,

When the obstacles are many,

When the days are short,

This is the time

This is the moment

This is the beginning

Of the dream

Of the journey

Of the destination

That says it is not about the destination

It is about the inches

Each and every inch

That takes us along the path

In the end, there is no destination

Everyday there are just inches

The ones you dig deep for

The ones you cry for

The ones you could die for

For that is what living is

The dreams in these inches

Today’s new inches

When the mountains are too high

As the obstacles melt away  -  

                                                               T. McNeil