I first started writing poetry as a kid when I discovered I had a knack for putting together snappy verses that rhymed. It was more or less the foundation of every poem I wrote from about Grade 2 into junior high. But in junior high I grew up a little and was more exposed to pretentiousness and suddenly felt like all my poems were childish. Now I was reading poems by famous writers and a lot of them didn't rhyme at all. Some girls I knew were also writing the odd poem and none of them rhymed either. They were just a bunch of words about pain and isolation strung together. No rhythm, no iambic pentameter. Just words.
Impressionable youth that I was, it was time for me to get in on this. So I started writing dark poems with no rhymes. My writing was maturing and I'd venture to say that perhaps 2 percent of them weren't complete crap. Anyway, even when I came out of this phase and almost stopped writing poetry altogether for awhile, those few poems that I did write still didn't rhyme. I had just gotten used to expressing myself that way. If rhyming no longer seemed childish to me it still seemed...tacky. So for another few years I ignored my gift some more. In that time, I think I did manage to write a handful of not too bad non-rhyming poems. The best of which being one called "Afternoon" that I wrote about three weeks into my first year of university, looking out at the "quad" of King's College.
But a few years after that a friend of mine who is also a writer wrote a poem about a hurricane that we'd recently experienced and he showed it to me. I don't remember it now but I remember it was good. I also remember that it rhymed. And it wasn't childish. It wasn't tacky. It was good. This caused me to do some thinking. Could I write a rhyming poem that wouldn't suck? I didn't know. For a couple days I bounced some ideas around in my head, trying to come up with just a few lines to start with. It wasn't working. But then about a week later, I was staring at the page and a simple rhyming verse came to me. I barely had to think - I just wrote and it came. It wasn't until I was nearly finished that I read it over and realized the subject matter - it was about my breakup with my first ever girlfriend. Not a recent event in my life at the time, in fact, I'd already been through a few other disasters since then. But that's what it was.
I don't really like posting a complete work here no matter how worthless it may be but I figured it couldn't hurt. It's called Drive and here it is.
Drive
i sometimes drive alone at night and listen to my songs
my focus drifts away and i think of what went wrong
it wasn't all that long ago i made this drive with you
sighing, laughing, dreaming
now all of that is through
every signpost sparks a memory
every corner prompts a thought
i think of you in your new place while i stay here and rot
i need to get away from this
before in these thoughts i drown
so i turn the volume up and i press the pedal down
not too far past your bridge we used to go sometimes
how fitting now to use it to pay you for your crimes
the sights aren't so familiar now because now they are a blur
i think of what they might say
"he died because of her"
i give the wheel a good jerk
and now i'm in the air
soon to be another victim of a life that isn't fair
the water's cold, the water's dark
and that suits me just fine
it seems a proper punishment for believing you were mine
eventually i slip below
where everything is black
it's quiet and it's calm here
but still i want them back
the days we had, the nights we shared
i still can't let them go
i forgive you now
i'm sorry
but you will never know
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Leia's Story
Leia came to us in the spring of 1999. I was finishing up grade ten. My sister had seen her picture in the paper and cut it out. She and my mother picked her up from the SPCA and brought her home. I found out about it on the way to UCCB (now called Cape Breton University) to play with my high school's jazz band in the lobby during an art show.
We weren't a cat family. Since my parents' marriage in 1977, we'd only had dogs, a bird and two iguanas. At the time, we'd had our current dog and second bichon frise, Vicki, for just over three years. But apparently my sister had had it in her head for some time (unbeknownst to me) that she wanted a kitten. So Leia, a tiny tortoise shell kitten with thick fur and a bottle brush tail came home to live with us.
It took Vicki four days of hyperventilating while one of us held onto her and a private discussion with Mother to get with the program that there was going to be a cat in the family. Leia, perhaps weighing a pound at the time, took no notice of Vicki and calmly explored the house, often getting lost in various corners causing us to embark on frantic searches for her. She was comfortable right away and never appeared nervous or frightened. She loved all of us as instantly as we loved her.
For the first few days, we wondered if she was mute as she hadn't uttered a sound. Soon she began purring. And purring and purring. But this didn't prove she had a voice. I think it was at least a week before she spoke, emitting what would become her signature chirp. This was a kitten that NEVER meowed or mewed. We could only theorize that she'd never learned how, although we'd never believed that was the sort of thing a feline had to learn. Whatever the case, for her entire life, Leia would rarely speak, purring often and loudly (even while eating) and occasionally chirping when something grabbed her attention or if she was pleased. But meows and mews were never her thing. Only a car trip - always a traumatic experience for her - would produce sounds of any similarity.
She was perfect from the moment she arrived. She instantly understood the purpose of her litter box and never had an accident at any point in her life. Once Vicki understood that Leia was ours, they became instant friends, sharing the water dish (Leia would always wait patiently for Vicki to finish drinking first if they ever arrived at the same time) and playing together every day. Leia remains the single kindest creature I have ever encountered in my life. She never got angry and she never expressed herself in any way other than as happy, friendly and loving. You could pick her up any way any time. You could hold her however you chose. Leia trusted all of us implicitly and was always glad to be petted and held.
My sister left for university after that first summer. So Leia began sleeping with me. Her favourite position was into my back as I lay on my side. She would wake me up by gently, always politely, tapping my face with a paw. Then she would leap off the bad, give a chirp and walk in circles until I gave her my attention so she could eat. That was the thing about Leia - in order to eat, she required an audience. At first she'd be forcing me to follow her downstairs to the kitchen at six in the morning to stand there and supervise while she ate her breakfast. I quickly learned to keep an extra food dish in my room for this. However, my being in the same room just wasn't enough - I STILL had to get out of bed and stand there, sometimes even pat her back, in order for her to settle down and eat her food.
After two years of this, I also left for university and Leia would find acceptance on my parents' bed. Vicki, ever the jealous type, was not initially pleased with this development but as always was the case when it came to Leia, she would come to accept the situation.
Leia was unique and beautiful for a million reasons. She always drank so daintily, first testing the water with a paw. She would tentatively dip a paw in then lick some water off it before finally deciding to lower her head and lap in the traditional manner. And in this she was extremely slow. While Vicki (and later, Wednesday, my cat) would simply plunge her head in and slurp and slop until she had slaked her thirst, Leia lapped very slowly. It wasn't uncommon for her to be crouched at the water dish for over five minutes to take a drink.
She loved toys and her favourites would be these plain, yellow ducks that were initially on strings. But she would chew the strings off then simply pick up the duck in her mouth, bat it around with her front paws, or, when she really got going, lie on her back grasping the duck with all four paws, sometimes kicking it with her hind feet. It was always a joy to play with Leia or just watch her but you had to be careful; if Leia ever found herself especially intense in her sport but then noticed she was being watched, she would very quickly cease this activity and walk away with her tail held high, as if trying to convince us it had never happened at all. Before this I'd never known that a cat could be embarrassed. But it was very important to Leia to appear dignified at all times in front of us.
Vicki would chase her and she would chase Vicki. They took turns. Sometimes Vicki would be lying on the floor asleep and Leia would come bounding in, sometimes hopping sideways, then leap onto Vicki and use the prone dog as a springboard, catapulting off her before running from the room or leaping onto a piece of furniture. Vicki would scramble to her feet in a fit of confusion, looking around dimly while Leia was already well out of sight. And Leia really did love Vicki. She would often jump onto the kitchen table to observe Vicki when she was put outside. It was clear she was concerned about the dog being out of the house (a place Leia never dared to venture) and I'm sure that sometimes she watched also in an effort to remind us that Vicki was out there - that she didn't trust us to remember to let Vicki back in on our own. She never in her life hissed or growled at Vicki; not even on those few occasions where the dog might have deserved it.
Leia is the only pet I know that would actually pose for photos. She must have had some understanding of her own physical beauty and it was clear she was very proud of her appearance. Unlike Wednesday, she was an almost obsessive groomer, constantly tidying her fur.
She loved her family and loved people in general. There was nothing solitary about her - she was always wherever we were and was very rarely alone in the house. She always came when called and had a very good understanding of English, better than many people I've met (and I'm speaking of Anglophones).
Her illness and eventual death are also a part of her story but it's not what I want to relate here. She was taken from us far too soon and I'll miss her for the rest of my life. Without Leia paving the way, we never would have gotten Wednesday, whom I love and adore just as much.
Leia will always be in my memory and my heart, not just as my cat and my pet but also as the most shining example of pure kindness I've observed so far in my life. She truly was an extraordinary creature and my words here could never do her proper justice. But I still wanted to try.
We weren't a cat family. Since my parents' marriage in 1977, we'd only had dogs, a bird and two iguanas. At the time, we'd had our current dog and second bichon frise, Vicki, for just over three years. But apparently my sister had had it in her head for some time (unbeknownst to me) that she wanted a kitten. So Leia, a tiny tortoise shell kitten with thick fur and a bottle brush tail came home to live with us.
It took Vicki four days of hyperventilating while one of us held onto her and a private discussion with Mother to get with the program that there was going to be a cat in the family. Leia, perhaps weighing a pound at the time, took no notice of Vicki and calmly explored the house, often getting lost in various corners causing us to embark on frantic searches for her. She was comfortable right away and never appeared nervous or frightened. She loved all of us as instantly as we loved her.
For the first few days, we wondered if she was mute as she hadn't uttered a sound. Soon she began purring. And purring and purring. But this didn't prove she had a voice. I think it was at least a week before she spoke, emitting what would become her signature chirp. This was a kitten that NEVER meowed or mewed. We could only theorize that she'd never learned how, although we'd never believed that was the sort of thing a feline had to learn. Whatever the case, for her entire life, Leia would rarely speak, purring often and loudly (even while eating) and occasionally chirping when something grabbed her attention or if she was pleased. But meows and mews were never her thing. Only a car trip - always a traumatic experience for her - would produce sounds of any similarity.
She was perfect from the moment she arrived. She instantly understood the purpose of her litter box and never had an accident at any point in her life. Once Vicki understood that Leia was ours, they became instant friends, sharing the water dish (Leia would always wait patiently for Vicki to finish drinking first if they ever arrived at the same time) and playing together every day. Leia remains the single kindest creature I have ever encountered in my life. She never got angry and she never expressed herself in any way other than as happy, friendly and loving. You could pick her up any way any time. You could hold her however you chose. Leia trusted all of us implicitly and was always glad to be petted and held.
My sister left for university after that first summer. So Leia began sleeping with me. Her favourite position was into my back as I lay on my side. She would wake me up by gently, always politely, tapping my face with a paw. Then she would leap off the bad, give a chirp and walk in circles until I gave her my attention so she could eat. That was the thing about Leia - in order to eat, she required an audience. At first she'd be forcing me to follow her downstairs to the kitchen at six in the morning to stand there and supervise while she ate her breakfast. I quickly learned to keep an extra food dish in my room for this. However, my being in the same room just wasn't enough - I STILL had to get out of bed and stand there, sometimes even pat her back, in order for her to settle down and eat her food.
After two years of this, I also left for university and Leia would find acceptance on my parents' bed. Vicki, ever the jealous type, was not initially pleased with this development but as always was the case when it came to Leia, she would come to accept the situation.
Leia was unique and beautiful for a million reasons. She always drank so daintily, first testing the water with a paw. She would tentatively dip a paw in then lick some water off it before finally deciding to lower her head and lap in the traditional manner. And in this she was extremely slow. While Vicki (and later, Wednesday, my cat) would simply plunge her head in and slurp and slop until she had slaked her thirst, Leia lapped very slowly. It wasn't uncommon for her to be crouched at the water dish for over five minutes to take a drink.
She loved toys and her favourites would be these plain, yellow ducks that were initially on strings. But she would chew the strings off then simply pick up the duck in her mouth, bat it around with her front paws, or, when she really got going, lie on her back grasping the duck with all four paws, sometimes kicking it with her hind feet. It was always a joy to play with Leia or just watch her but you had to be careful; if Leia ever found herself especially intense in her sport but then noticed she was being watched, she would very quickly cease this activity and walk away with her tail held high, as if trying to convince us it had never happened at all. Before this I'd never known that a cat could be embarrassed. But it was very important to Leia to appear dignified at all times in front of us.
Vicki would chase her and she would chase Vicki. They took turns. Sometimes Vicki would be lying on the floor asleep and Leia would come bounding in, sometimes hopping sideways, then leap onto Vicki and use the prone dog as a springboard, catapulting off her before running from the room or leaping onto a piece of furniture. Vicki would scramble to her feet in a fit of confusion, looking around dimly while Leia was already well out of sight. And Leia really did love Vicki. She would often jump onto the kitchen table to observe Vicki when she was put outside. It was clear she was concerned about the dog being out of the house (a place Leia never dared to venture) and I'm sure that sometimes she watched also in an effort to remind us that Vicki was out there - that she didn't trust us to remember to let Vicki back in on our own. She never in her life hissed or growled at Vicki; not even on those few occasions where the dog might have deserved it.
Leia is the only pet I know that would actually pose for photos. She must have had some understanding of her own physical beauty and it was clear she was very proud of her appearance. Unlike Wednesday, she was an almost obsessive groomer, constantly tidying her fur.
She loved her family and loved people in general. There was nothing solitary about her - she was always wherever we were and was very rarely alone in the house. She always came when called and had a very good understanding of English, better than many people I've met (and I'm speaking of Anglophones).
Her illness and eventual death are also a part of her story but it's not what I want to relate here. She was taken from us far too soon and I'll miss her for the rest of my life. Without Leia paving the way, we never would have gotten Wednesday, whom I love and adore just as much.
Leia will always be in my memory and my heart, not just as my cat and my pet but also as the most shining example of pure kindness I've observed so far in my life. She truly was an extraordinary creature and my words here could never do her proper justice. But I still wanted to try.
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