Poetry

Harbour of Dreams

by Reg Deneau

 

Within the psyche of most human beings,

Between adolescence and senility,

Exists a harbour of dreams –

One place, real or imaginary,

To which one can travel

Telepathically, instantaneously,

In times of stress or dismay –

A safe place, far from the moment

In which we find ourselves.

In adolescence,

It may be a place to which we’ve never ever been –

“Over the rainbow” as the song says;

As we age, it may be a place to which we have travelled.

In many instances – a place we’ve never ever seen,

Except in a movie or on television or the Internet.

Nevertheless, a safe harbor –

No rocks upon which to flounder,

No storms on the imminent horizon,

No threatening ‘creatures’ real or imaginary, in sight!

Harbours of dreams

Have both beautiful sunrises and sunsets,

And, in-between –

Calm seas upon which we can navigate

The shoals of life.

 

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Reg Deneau was born in Canada where he attended the University of Windsor, graduating with a degree in Political Science and Media Studies. A teacher in Ontario, Canada for 32 years, he came to the Yucatan in 2004 and resides in Progreso with his spouse, who was the inspiration for his first book of poetry, “Trust the Winds : Poems of a Spiritual Journey”. A previous non-fiction book was published in 2005 by Barnes and Noble in the US – “Not My Father’s Footsteps”. He is currently working on a second poetry anthology, and at the same time, is in the midst of a fictional story relating the trials and tribulations of “snowbirds” in the Yucatan. In his spare time, he is the author of three ongoing blogs…

To read more of Reg’s poetry, visit his blog site www.trustthewinds.wordpress.com

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Poetry

Last Light

by Janet Phelan

 

They gathered together to kill each other.

Still beating, the hearts were torn from the chest

and eaten

while their bodies were thrown from the temple steps

for the beasts to consume.

 

The reasons were many:

the neighbouring peoples were bellicose

and the gods must be appeased.

These were the simplest explanations, although not

the most honest. The stories that came down to the elect

were clear—only by sacrifice would the universe

maintain its coordinates. Everything eats something

and this dimension demands to be fed.

 

The rainfall stopped. The corn blackened in the fields

The conquerors came

and in revulsion, killed the killers. The practices continued on

with different protocols

under the mantle of the new order.

 

And the rainfall stopped. And the tsunamis began.

And the earth began to move, first shifting her weight

from side to side, then with larger and more violent distress

 

And no one saw the upheaval in other dimensions

The giant form of a sorrowful God crashing to his knees

as the lights went out in the sky

and galaxies rippled forth from the point of impact

his voice echoing through the spheres (though not ours)

No…No…No

 

The photograph of you in the yellowing album

Looking up with surprise as the photographer (who loved you)

clicked

and somehow caught your soul

smiling with the incandescent joy

of one who has arrived

to find things just as she had dreamed of

your hands just so on the hips

which would give birth to the one

 

who would rise up and kill her

 

how could she know

 

I’m ready to lay down my pen.

Maybe in some future time

travelers will take heed

of the devastation that followed

the weapons lying in the empty field

gleaming in the sun

from the smallest projectile

to the silos buried deep underground

Maybe they will take note

that the food, the water, the herbs

were poisoned and fouled

 

and that no one survived

the final sacrifice

 

In the evening

as the light fails

I can almost see her now

she gets more substantial every day

hovering in my doorway

smiling and radiant

bits of star stuff caught in her hair

 

beckoning me home

 

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Janet Phelan is an investigative journalist whose articles have appeared in the Los Angeles Times, The San Bernardino County Sentinel, The Santa Monica Daily Press, The American’s Bulletin, Sovereign Mind Magazine and other regional and national publications. Janet focuses on issues pertaining to the legal system, ranging from the heated subject of adult conservatorship– revealing shocking information about the relationships between courts and shady financial consultants –to international arms treaties. She maintains a special interest in eugenics. Her poetry has been published in Gambit, Libera, Applezaba Review, Nausea One and other magazines. Her first book, The Hitler Poems, was published in 2005. She currently resides in the Yucatán.

 

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photo by Dan Griffin

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Poetry

Souvenirs and Some Men Dream

by Reg Deneau

 

Souvenirs

Throughout our lives,

We gather souvenirs –

Tangible memories,

Of places we have been,

Milestones –

Remembrances from our past.

 

Teddy bears, blankies, Barbie dolls,

Marbles, trading cards, special toys,

Grandpa’s watch, grandma’s pearl necklace,

Trophies, photographs, postcards, stamps, etc.

 

It’s only on in our later years

That we come to realize,

When many of those ‘souvenirs’

Have been lost or discarded over time,

That these tangible memories

Were unimportant.

 

The true souvenirs of our lives

Reside in our minds and our hearts,

Tucked away – dust free, never fading –

Available at a moment’s notice;

We need only to close our eyes

And bring them back into our lives again!

 

 

Some men dream

 

Of a friendship like no other,

Forged from the ashes of despair,

At a moment in their lives

Where the future appears most bleak.

 

A friendship built on trust,

Common interests, open communication,

Respect for each other,

An awareness of each other’s needs

On a daily basis.

 

In time, perhaps,

It will grow into a relationship,

As that friendship turns to love,

Emotional and physical,

Unabated and unabashed,

A love for all the world to see,

A marriage of two men.

Some men can only dream!

It can never be too late…

 

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Reg Deneau was born in Canada where he attended the University of Windsor, graduating with a degree in Political Science and Media Studies. A teacher in Ontario, Canada for 32 years, he came to the Yucatan in 2004 and resides in Progreso with his spouse, who was the inspiration for his first book of poetry, “Trust the Winds : Poems of a Spiritual Journey”. A previous non-fiction book was published in 2005 by Barnes and Noble in the US – “Not My Father’s Footsteps”. He is currently working on a second poetry anthology, and at the same time, is in the midst of a fictional story relating the trials and tribulations of “snowbirds” in the Yucatan. In his spare time, he is the author of three ongoing blogs…

To read more of Reg’s poetry, visit his blog site www.trustthewinds.wordpress.com

Photo by Dan Griffin

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