Tag: poetpardy

Prompt Day 22

I lilt and sway

Just like Gord’s voice

When he sang Fiddlers Green,

Soundtrack for my life.

Sinclair drops the bass,

Fay crashes cymbals,

Paul and Robby plucking strings,

Like wizards to make waves

For the words to dance all over,

Like the wind in a storm,

A real nautical disaster.

Yer not the Ocean but the surface is green

And the dark interweaves

In a lonely iridescence,

It’s terribly deep and the cold is complete.

Just like the ocean.

Loving your country, playing songs of small town news,

I can teach my children about the nation

With rock and roll.

Canada divided into thirteen parts,

A discography of thirteen albums,

No coincidence.

The most honourable thing yet,

That you evolved to challenge a nation

Unknowingly flawed, abusive.

Adoring your home, but not calling it perfect

True patriotism, true love always seeks to improve.

That’s just what you did

You are ahead by a century.

Now Downie gone,

But his voice will ring out forever,

As he walks among the stars.

I still lilt and sway

Just like Gord’s voice

When he sang anything,

Soundtrack for my life.

– Vagabond Prophet

          – for ‘ The Tragically Hip’, quotes throughout this poem from their songs: Nautical Disaster, Yer not the Ocean, Fiddlers Green, Ahead by a Century, The Drop Off.

        – If you don’t know this band you should, He rhymes Catharsis with ‘My arse is’. If that’s not a clever lyricist I don’t know what is.

Prompt Day 21

Hot or cold

Mild or bold

Wet or dry

Make a decision already!

You circle around the globe

Trying to ‘find’ yourself,

What you should be

When you come to fruition.

Circumlocution embodied,

You try on every outfit

And voice every thought

Over and over

For thirty whole days.

It’s like this every year,

You can’t make up your mind

To stay in the past

Or leap to the summer.

Yet May always comes

To usher April out of the room.

– Vagabond Prophet

Prompt Day 20

Daddy’s home yay!

They cry from the top of the stairs

Wearing dresses and suits

From dancing with each other.

“Daddy, want to watch us dance?”

They spin and spin

Just like the vinyl on the turntable.

“Daddy want to see my super jump?”

“Daddy you need to shave,

Your cheeks are all scratchy.”

These are the things I live for,

Not praise but simply speech

From sweetest voices

Wanting nothing but my attention.

So I’ll watch them orbit the living room,

I’ll keep my cheeks all smooth,

For I am their daddy, and they my children

And they love me, it’s terrifying but it’s true.

They really love me.

– Vagabond Prophet

Lightning Rod


Through tempest spurned

And fury turned

On a meadow swathed in white.

Lightning rods attracting

The wrath of heaven acting

Shot forth onto dry grass.

Kindlings always destined

To burn up, never questioned

No dreams of an unscorched future.

To smoulder away

Paving the way

For those that will burn brighter.

– Vagabond Prophet

Prompt Day 19


If ink onto paper isn’t enough

If your black blood onto the sheet

Won’t suffice

You ink your skin.

I did, family crest

For a family spread the world over.

Related by blood

Black to crimson and back again.

Families change

Families grow

Families explode into a hundred pieces.

Brothers and I stitched a picture

Had it fixed upon our skin

A reminder of a past together

Where everything was safer

And we could explore forests in the dark.

The only fires worried about

Was the one that burnt our camp food,

Not the one that started in the shadows

To render home into ashes.

So no matter how we scatter

To make home for ourselves,

We’ll always find a safe place

In each other, in arms

In eyes commonly blue

And in backs commonly emblazoned

With lions and spears and shields.

And grace, most important of all.

Grace for ourselves and each other,

For how we’ve hurt one another,

And for our dad, gone under the pen now too.

Grace for him especially.

He’s hurt us all so deeply

But he still gave us our ink,

And ink is thicker than water.

– Vagabond Prophet

Soul Mates

I used to believe

In true love and soulmates,

Now I know it false.

It’s true she’s my mate

And that she has my soul

But I chose her

And she chose me.

No accident no ‘falling in’

Like slipping in mud

Or slowly going mad.

Providence played a part

To be sure

But our choices are

What define us.

No smoky bar

Or mystic circumstance

Just she and me

Opposite sides of a dirty couch.

A choice we still

Make every day

When life is lovely

When life is ghastly.

Our couch is still stained

A reminder of our promises.

– Vagabond Prophet

How quickly I became bankrupt
In the absence of yourself,
I didn’t know until I left you forlorn
Abandoned in the far reaches of the echo
That I’d been living cup to cup
For a love now gone cold.

When I return let there yet be
Some faint embers left in which
We can partake.

Vagabond Prophet

– This is what happens when a guy like me forgets his coffee at home before work starts.

Prompt Day 18

Do you find your hope groping in the dark

Sloping and waning

While the moon is waxing?

As though all your innermost dreams

And thoughts you hold most dear

Had been paraded through the streets

With mocking and jeering and spitting.

Come with me I say

The revolution starts with us.

Our lights have been put out too often

Wicks go sizzle between The Man’s greasy fingers.

All those people with nothing to offer

But their hearts in ink dots

Or paint swaths

Or sound waves.

Get a real job! They say.

But the art in our veins,

Make life worth living

And it’s so hard to strip it off.

Like the bark of a tree

That without will surely die,

So it would be with us

If we amputate our muse.

Protect your light!

At all costs defend it!

I’ll stand by your side

I’ll have your back.

Let’s have our cake and eat it too,

We’re going to need two cakes.

At least.

At least.

At least.

As all artists know,

The bare minimum is the foundation

For something great.

– Vagabond Prophet