August 31, 2017 – 9:57 pm
WHAT THE SOUL WANTS A horse made out of rain (it doesn’t need a blacksmith). A fret of dragonflies, the thin gloss of their wings. A yellow bicycle. Outside the door a tall coffee can full of sand for the soul’s gritty habits. A place where trees are happy. How can you tell? It’s the […]
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January 16, 2016 – 8:18 pm
Oh, I Said My subject is the soul Difficult to talk about, Since it is invisible, Silent and often absent. Even when it shows itself In the eyes of a child Or a dog without a home, I’m at a loss for words. Charles Simic (1938 – ) from THE LUNATIC, HarperCollins Publishers, 2015 Earlier […]
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Yesterday, fleece under my sports jacket, I sat in Montreal with a few thousand others in a gargantuan white tent and listened to the convocation address at McGill University’s Spring Convocation for the Faculty of the Arts and Religious Studies. Yes, it was drafty and chilly under that tent but I didn’t notice. There are […]
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February 19, 2015 – 6:28 pm
Man from the Promised Land He was the north wind, the west. And I very nearly blew away with him My limbs light as grit. He whittled me Raised me to his lips and made me sing. It was Bedouin, Mojave, Saskatchewan’s Great Sandhills, the […]
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Mid-March. The wild geese are back in the field in front of our house. They remind me of something I wrote back in November when they were heading the other way! Here it is: This morning a flock of more than 150 wild geese flew overhead, the cacophony of their calls a perfected music. And […]
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Ars Poetica She was not blissful in that garden. Not blissful harvesting it. Not blissful not. She was not blissful, not inseminated, and couldn’t stand getting vast. She didn’t like the godforsaken vaccinations: Christ how those children wept! She didn’t like it when school was cancelled, and she liked it even less when it was […]
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April 18, 2013 – 10:00 pm
Last Friday at 7.30 PM more than a hundred of us crammed into the The Moca House on Hillside in Victoria. There were line ups at the bar for cookies and such, coffee and beer but we were there for even stronger and more nourishing fare. It was the launch of the anthology Poems From […]
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December 31, 2012 – 4:31 pm
It is late October, 2012, last evening of the Vancouver Writers’ Festival. There is music in the big room already. Music made by voices. The event starts in thirty minutes but many of the four hundred-or-so chairs are already filled. The music is sweet and unique. Those particular voices. Those places in the room where […]
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By Richard Osler
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Posted in Poetry
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Also tagged Brian Brett, Gillian Jerome, Harbour Publishing. Basho, Jane Urquart, Margaret Atwood, Patrick Lane, Patrick Lane Retreats at Honeymoon Bay Lodge British Columbia, Richard Osler, Sean Virgo, Steven Price, Susan Musgrave, The Collected Poems of Patrick Lane
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April 19, 2012 – 12:06 am
Weakness Old mare whose eyes are like cracked marbles, drools blood in her mash, shivers in her jute blanket . My father hates weakness worse than hail; in the morning without haste he will shoot her in the ear, once, shovel her under in the north pasture. Tonight leaving the stables, he stands […]
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