AboveTheRayne

A Poem for you: Well it’s that time of year again here in Alberta, so so cold, we have to be aware of our “Hoopsnake”…Take a look…..

The hoopsnakes linger in the icefields of Canada.
Fiercely slithering through barren caves forming
traces of tracks in predators graves. Canada’s
hoopsnake leaves nothing to the imagination,
it devours quick without hesitation.

In Canada’s coldest region, Baker Lake,Nunavut.
Living among, Muskox, caribou ,wolverines, jack
rabbits, siks siks and artic hares, the hoopsnakes
fierce and deadly…the king of icefields medley.

Lone creatures, a tailless lot, eyes of fire, blood sought.
Wherever the hoopsake trails along,, bloodied path
share a grusome song. Our forebearers tried to rid
the land of it’s thirst of blood with tired hand.

Alas Canada’a hoopsnake lives on in the crisp and quiet
each day. Awaiting it’s victims unaware to step in its tracks
along the way. Beware when you visit our icefields, beware
my friends night and day. Our hoopsnakes will find you
and surely carry you away.

Written by: Melvina Germain

© 2013 Above The Rain (All rights reserved)

Annie Hannah Draper Vine

Birth 5 Aug 1843 in Bath, Wiltshire, England
Death 25 Aug 1918 in Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah, USA

Adapted from History written by Annie Draper Vine.

Remembering while walking on the wagon trail between Bountiful and Salt Lake City, Utah [about 12 miles!] having visions of pretty dishes on the table; perhaps English China, comparative to the heritage of the Draper-Miles line…

At one evenings dusk, a Father and daughter were baptized in the river. Retreating home the daughter took up the routine of “Mom” to 3 siblings and retained her secret of new faith.

At age 11, working at the custom made bench in the silk factory to reach the work, some earnings were sent home to help support the Family. Self purchased bread relived the not so savory potato-cabbage water for her meals.

Watching waves of the vast ocean in traveling to the fulfillment of the Missionaries vision to see the Promised Land at the age of 18.

Trekking by ox-team across the plains having been guided by the Lord, with a strong constitution nursing Zionites back to health.

Feeding the women despite the short legs of the catcher of a prize sage hen.

Watching the sparkle in the fire, listening to the songs and laughter at the end of the day after many miles, many months.

Praising the Lord…. Light. Memories of Whitman’s writings – “Oh you Daughters…”

Being with voyage companions in Bountiful, Utah and meeting my spouse who crossed the plains shortly before me.

Having been married in 1863 and living in a sheep wagon having once taken shelter in a cave during a storm.

Taking a journey now with bartered script to purchase the China.

Oh, what a long day this has been!

At last the arrival to the Salt Lake store only to find the ‘script’ was only merit for food and not household items.

The fruitless journey that I made that day ended with a very tired disappointed woman serving her husband his Birthday meal on her best every day polished tin plates.

These are the true memories of my Great Great Grand Aunt, Annie Draper Vine.

Canadian Cynthia Sharp is a regular contributor to the Melvina & Friends Poetry Group.
She has been published in Toasted Cheese & Haiku Journal and was nominated for the XXXVIII Pushcart Prize & Best of the Net Anthology. She enjoys the beauty of the west coast, where she is at work on her first fantasy novel.

Note: This is a brand new poem created to share here on this site. I thank you very much Cynthia, most appreciated.

FINDING HOME BY: CYNTHIA SHARP

at peace in the brokenness
of lost expectation
we return to one another
in the love of Christ
made whole
simply in letting love heal
heart to heart
so much of our body memory
holding one another

Saturn calling
in the courage of your kindness,
never intentionally hurting
giving the best of ourselves
forgiving our faults,
mistakes, insecurity,
and the years of trying too hard
to be everything other
than who we are

Dancing on the beach
running in the sand
bouncing in the sea
clapping my hands
racing in the wind
strolling in the rain
singing happy songs
feeling no pain
happy as can be
that’s me

Written by: Melvina Germain
Date: 2013
© 2013 Above The Rain (All rights reserved)

To mom and my wife Maryann,
who taught me the value of giving without thought of return.
To my daughter,
who is certainly the sweetest person in my world.
To my granddaughters
who give me a reason to wake and greet each new day.
To my aunts,
cousins and nieces you all have a special place in my heart.
Thanks for sharing my joy and sorrow,
you make this hard world an easier place to live in.
For my incredible female friends,
please know that I cherish and appreciate all you have done for me.
For the big things, and there were many,
but also for all the seemingly small things
that brighten my day and soften my heart.
I speak for myself when I say that I often took you for granted,
fool that I was now my eyes have opened
and I can do no less than thank god,
for all you do and all you are.
You are god’s hands and feet
in an otherwise cold and harsh world.
Please accept my deepest gratitude and sincere love.
You are what living is all about,
you color my world with sweetness and light.

Charlie Giardino
3/10/12

This peace,
so deep it comes unbidden descending,
ascending enveloping softly silently,
leaving not a trace
not a hint of its presence
words only hinder its advent ~
it falls lightly ~
like feathers on newly cut grass

Charlie Giardino
9/19/10

A cold crisp night in the month of December, peering
through the frosted window of my Cavalier Mini Van.
I shrugged my shoulders and sighed, thinking of the
long winter ahead.

Parked beneath a street lamp, alone again, nowhere
to go, just biding my time. Glaring at passers by,
watching the goings on of poor street people
wandering aimlessly about. My appearance, intruding
in their space , as they study me wondering why.

If only they knew, I feel their loneliness and
understand their pain. Being once homeless myself,
after all. Yes it was many years ago when I joined
the ranks of the homeless in the big city of Montreal.
An awakening to be sure, though short lived, it was
a step into the reality of the real world.

I met many different people shall we say, yes indeed.
My first introduction to drag queens, gay men dressed
to the hilt in female clothing. Female and male
prostitution, thieves with clients, mink coats, elaborate
suits. Whatever your hearts desire, they provide.

It was a new lifestyle, one I adapted too very quickly.
As the idea of being homeless was not something I
desired, I decided to return to the home of rules and
though difficult to swallow, I knew this was the best
decision I could make.

O my mind continued to dip into the valley of unforgotten
memories and I plucked a few doozies to the forefront. I
watched a deal going down, the exchange of drugs from
hand to hand. I tingled slightly inside, remembering the
rush. I’m observing too many eyes looking at me, time
to move on.

Another time, another place, perhaps one day I’ll come
back and engage with some in conversation. For now,
I’ll start up my van and move on. Taking my memories
with me, I placed my key in the ignition and slowly drove
away, watching through my rear-view mirror , necks
stretch long in wonder.

(c)2013 above the rain…all rights reserved

O sweet Ebony and Ivory,
a mild and beauty sweet delight,
your music flows a symphony.
a treasure adored in mind and sight.

O music in thy heart do sing,
a sweet melodic, spiritual song.
Pregnant words fit for a king,
may thy Queen quickly come along.

Sing me blues, sing me jazz,
upon my knees, thy country flows.
Sing me smooth, raz a taz,
O stand upon tips of your toes.

Rest with arms outstretched in joy,
subdued within thy happy pain.
Let thy music flow the ploy,
to bring you back to life again.

Written by: Melvina Germain
Date: Sept. 3/2012
(c)2013 Above The Rain, All rights reserved

To ponder love is not for me,
I seek the act of reality.
Let not that silent desire weave,
a wall of hope, I can’t conceive.
Silence perpetuates an ethereal beauty,
a colorless curtain doth unfold.
To see the dance of a lovers duty,
share the wisdom to have and hold.
Live not thy days in bliss less measure,
for cobwebs cover needless dreams.
Wrap the frozen clock of time,
bridge the gap between the seams.

© 2013 Above The Rain (All rights reserved)

Sheets Of Lust

Held in that boring chamber of monotony,
entrenched in the darkest hole of sin.
A vile and disgusting monster sieges the
chance to let their sexual rage begin.

Climbing between sheets of lust,
hoping a tinge of love might seep within.
A loving person by day, tis nightfall
ones loveliness disappears.

Looking for lust in all the right places,
seeking pleasure for many years.
Bodies strewn like slabs of meat,
upon a sacrificial nest of pain.

The monster with its huge appetite,
has much pleasure to hoard and gain.
A mind that wants to rob ones body,
the same as expropriating a piece of property.

Submerged in the height of sin,
no place for grace to triumph
or even slightly begin. A being of calculus
may rise to the helm, shedding silhouettes
of darkness upon the wall.

Your mind filled with false impressions,
you tumble… now you fall.
The head of the throne of absolute deceit,
through fever and frustration,
it is you they want to meet.

Between the sheets, dreams unfold, no love
enters the mind, no signs of love to hold.
You will succumb to insatiable needs,
their as an object mainly to please.

Enticed in the walls of unspeakable pleasure,
hours of raw sex will blind you, as you are the
target of someone clever. Your sexual slave
master may be a King or Queen,
who sits on the throne of pathological demise,
The death of mind, the death of spirit,
wearing a mask of incredible disguise.
You have fallen prey to someone who has
become an empty shell with no remorse.
As night rolls on, you are the feast,
the delicious whole main course.

A con, a liar, makes you feel the need,
you believe you love every moment of
sexual greed. Quenching the thirst of lusts
demands, confused amidst this temple of
sexual illusion,.

a nightmarish dream you can’t wake up from,
presents the mind with great confusion.
As hostage, held imprisoned within the mesh
of disbelief. A human object you have become,
a tool of pleasure with no release.

A rare imprisonment though for a short time,
brings on the pain of life’s unrest
and you have fallen slave to a monster,
who couldn’t past life’s test.

Filling the purpose of a tension released,
your dignity has become deceased.
Fear not for you there is an answer,
You stepped away from the word of God for a time,
your Saviour knows you crossed the line.

Upon your knees you must pray and worship God
night and day. The monster whose life have found
disaster, may not be granted such a gift.
A hibernation in the tomb of the darkest master,
a life doomed will not uplift.

© 2013 Above The Rain (All rights reserved)