Local poets share their work for the arts council’s Love Project – Ladysmith Chronicle

As part of the Arts Council of Ladysmith and District’s Love Project, the Waterfront Gallery asked writers and students to share poetry, which is now on display downtown in the Royal LePage window until February 15. The arts council asked if the Chronicle would print some of the work. I happen to be a big fan of poetry and loved the idea. Inspired by the project, I decided to include one of my own poems on the page.

-Tyler Hay, Ladysmith Chronicle Editor

Ladysmith: Gratitude 2

I run to the marina to be hypnotized

by the jellyfish, and forget

I can always come home

in an empty house.

There is Syria and violence,

hunger and political scandal,

and I do nothing about it,

captivated by my little sorrows.

Eighteen visceral months

since the declared love of a man,

and me with my pathetic need

hold another warm hand,

to whisper through a pillow.

I have no business, no potential.

Empty fridge but for dead apples

offered by friends.

And who could understand this planet

of no small desire,

or the joy found in valentines

pretending to be maple leaves.

Easy to blind facts of profound importance:

even the jagged moments are beautiful.

-Shelley A. Leedahl, from her upcoming collection, Go, (Radiant Press, Spring 2022)

what is good

Wednesday afternoon hikes with Rachel,

who lives, like me, in fear

of the smallest wonders: blades of grass

which end in star flowers.

Pine scents. The crows, and the birds that we guess

through the memory of the song.

The multicolored brambles. Picking season.

Aperitif before the full blush of blackberries.

Arbutus, peeling one page at a time.

They say red. They say west coast. They understand

that if I could paint, my life

would be quite different.

It’s good to sit on a ledge above the city

which is above the ocean. We point to the islands

and hear nothing but tree bones.

Silver lichen is good. And the Rainbow Tinder Mushroom.

Also salamanders, reminiscent of Slippery. Rain event.

-Shelley A. Leedahl, from her upcoming collection, Go, (Radiant Press, Spring 2022)

Spring

(for Ruth)

Spring, hot, not hot,

Wet, not humid night.

Evil

From a grassy, ​​covered hill.

Clothed only in moonlight;

Her long, long shiny hair

On his shoulders like a poem.

Everything that is

Beauty

Wrapped up carefully in an embrace.

Floating softly on this dream,

I smile.

-Jim Bearden

patio umbrella

That first day of warm spring,

I opened the umbrella,

and a bat flew away:

the most shocking thing i’ve seen

until I read your letter.

-Anita Kess

Your poet’s complaint

If you don’t like this poem

Think the fault is yours not mine

Your beauty was too much of a burden

A poet’s ability to reflect online

What if I instead chose your image to make

The end would be the same

Since to measure your grace and your light

Can neither brush nor pen

So if my syllables limp on the page

Or my brush on your face betrays a flaw

It’s because out of vain desire

I have sweet defeat the taste

Since I wanted you to be today

My Aphrodite both in print and in painting

-John Edwards

Rainy Days Sonnet

A rainy day reminds us why we love;

company comes easily on summer eves;

but when the buckets spill we gotta rise above

endless days as our time falls with the leaves.

Therefore the sun be her sweet eyes

when the water runs like tears on the windows

the sun, like a lost poet lies;

she is my warmth with everything in chains.

The world has slowed down today to a bleak stall,

but she and I were lying too and we didn’t care

if we never move; keep us within these walls

lose days and be a happy couple.

Rainy days remind us why we should love

in the dark hours that you don’t care to talk about.

-Tyler Hay

A song

A song is like a place in time,

A moment taken, stirrings in the mind.

A past life, what things had meant.

Flights of fancy, soaring on

A melody is sent to them; ending with a rhyme.

-Jim L. Bearden