The Christmas Story

The cow gave a moo
The horse neighed too
The camel stamped and nudged the little lamb
The little lamb baahed, then went back to sleep
beside the bearded man.

The man moved closer to the warmth of his wife
As she snuggled the child, new to this life
And a single star shone - peaceful and bright
On a brand new tale born this night

The story was passed from shepherd to King
And a new way of believing was given wing
It whispered the wind and tickled the ears
It kissed thoughtful lips, emboldened the seers

It answered some questions, creating new whys
It bunched up its courage and learned how to fly
It flew over space and grew over time
Now dreams over you through my little rhyme. 

- written by Donna Holmes on Nov 25, 2012

Being Agnostic

As many of you (ALL of those multitudes of you who follow my blog... ha!) know, I'm trying to write 30 poems in 30 days during the month of November.  I will post many of them here in the coming weeks, but thought I'd add this one now.  It's Poem #13 and I read it at Open Mike & Donna last night.  It seemed to be received well.  Hope you like it too...

Being agnostic is often easy.
It opens my mind and beautifully stretches my ideas.
It is acknowledging other points of view.
It gives my opinionated self a chance to stand back and LISTEN...
and hear other opinions and find ways of respecting and valuing them.
Being agnostic can be noble and right and lit up and good.

Being agnostic can sometimes be difficult.
Confronting one's limitations in belief and reality can hurt the soul.
To know there are some views out there that my head can never encompass
(and remain sane), is frustrating and scary.
Being agnostic can be cowardly and an excuse to give in to my indecision.
Letting others define the world without caring about,
or even lightly touching on, their perspective
can be ugly and dark.

Being agnostic can be very lonely.
Believing that anything might be possible is very similar to believing in nothing.
And believing in nothing, accepting that there really is no meaning,
and understanding there may not even be a reality,
holds some of the most singularly loneliest moments I have ever experienced.
At least Atheists have SOMETHING not to believe in.
Sometimes.... I just have nothing.
Being agnostic can be quite sad.

But... every once in a while of winking realities...
Being agnostic is breathtakingly beautiful.
Having a clear mind on a transcendentally joyous day
can fill me up with so much power and light.
On these days, every lovely thing is not only possible but IS.
And I am part of that universe and life makes sense and "joy" is "God".
And everyone is able to find a satisfyingly wonderful reason to live.
And I can hear the music of reality and I am in harmony with it.
Every once in a while, being agnostic...
is the best part of being me.

In the Wings

Little dancers in the wings and flitting 'cross the stage
A realization of having been instrumental
A moment of knowing this particular magic would not have existed without me
It made me cry
The thought, the idea, still makes me smile
For a beat I knew why
I am here.

It's not very often that we get a chance to see
That some part of the world would not exist without "me"

Little ideas in my head and flitting through a brainstorm
Being overcome by powerful emotion
A moment of connecting with a real and true part of this dreamy existence
Brought me to tears
Of joy and pain at the same time
For a moment these years
Made sense

It's not very often that we get a chance to know
That in some parts of this song there are still ways to grow

Thanksgiving

The music in my head, the sounds on my tongue
The melody I live, the harmony in song

Thank you stars. Thank you 'verse.  Thank you for this life immersed
in the song, in the song...

The family I hold always in my thoughts
And the knowledge that I'm in all of their hearts

Thank you stars. Thank you 'verse.  Thank you for this life immersed
in the song, in the song...

The friends that I hug or who make me laugh,
who share deep conversations - all the friends that I have

Thank you stars. Thank you 'verse.  Thank you for this life immersed
in the song, in the song...

The job, the food, the shelter, the clothes
Things taken for granted which I have in droves

Thank you stars. Thank you 'verse.  Thank you for this life immersed
in the song, in the song... 

Thankfully... where I belong.

Words

Words
Why can't I ever find the words
That clarify all my ideas
In all my songs that hinge upon

Words
They're always on the tips of tongues
They lie and cheat and poke some fun
While I keep searching for the right one

Chorus
Words keep getting by me
Words behind me
Words beguile me
Words, words, words defy me

Words
Can be so very hard to say
Yet chatter all my thoughts away
And they can cage or they can... 

Free
Up all the thoughts inside my head
Just wish I understood what's said
So I could take them back instead

Chorus 2

Words keep getting by me
Words can bind me
Words terrify me
Words, words, words define me

Words
I need a few more for this song
Another verse and then I'm done
I don't know what I'm saying

Damn words
They never help me see the light
They make me toss and turn all night
And then they never come out just quite right...

Words  (end)

Jester Me

Music on the ocean breeze
Wishes that it was consequence free
But that just parks meaning on the fence
What the heck are we without consequence?

Sitting on the fence unable to decide
Cuz my eyes are open far too wide
They see all the possible paths and ways
Keeping me frozen in one place

The consequence is that I reside in ice
Inside, undiscovered.  Outside, simply nice
I need a plan that will warm my heart
But if cause does not effect, there's no place to start

Just me
Jester be
Simply anything
But consequence free

Just be
And really see
That nothing's simple for
Jester me.


All of our conversations
Ring with consequence evasions
"Oh, just happened by
and thought I'd just say hi."

Then there's nothing for a while
Except a fleeting, passing smile
No goal, no plan, no vision
Just happenstance collisions

What's wrong with committing to
Some time that holds me and you
Don't wanna be authority or "the man"
Just wanna be a part of your plan

Just be
With me
We'd make so much sense
If we had consequence

But just us
Is just a dream
Consequently
It's just me...

Jester me.

The Map

This one was difficult to pull out.... I'm not sure I like it yet.  Maybe it'll please me more when (if?) I add music...  What do you think? 

Verse 1

When I know where I’m going I never seem to get there

When I lose my way I get found

When I set a direction for my thoughts to travel

They go anyplace but where they were bound

When I try to unravel the meaning of things

When I attempt to map my charts

I get stuck in traffic on the lower plane

And trip over the fallen stars

First Chorus

Where do I go from here?

How do I fill in the gap?  

Which way should I face to find the end place?

Can somebody give me a map?

Verse 2

When I try to describe what I want out of life

When I attempt to make a plan

When the maps that I draw go round in circles

Is when I least understand who I am

Then at that moment, when all seems so lost

And it’s certain I don't know the way

I’m temporarily blinded by a flash of insight

Then see I am where I should stay

Second Chorus

Where do I go from here?

Where lightning strikes and thunder claps?

Where I can find some peace of mind

Where there’s no more need for maps

Break

Some have claimed to already have such a thing

The bible, the 8-fold path, the Quran

A map to the music, a map of the ‘verse

A map I can understand

Does a map even exist? 

Is there a plan I can find?

Am I really going someplace?

Or just wasting my time?

Verse 3

When I know where I’m going I find that I am

At odds with my inner clown

Who does not want to know the places we go

Who does not even need to be found

While I restlessly think of ways to go forward

And attempt to direct every step

She skips and she laughs, she follows no path

She’s the bravest I’ve ever met

Third Chorus

Where do I go from here?

Or should I stay and adapt?

How can I find the meaning of life

Do I need to create my own map?

Can somebody draw me

Or get me or buy me or sing me

Or sign me a map

Please somebody

Kiss me and hug me, laugh me and bug me,

Love me and and cry me, hello and goodbye me,

Keep asking oh why me….

and please help me find me…

the map.

Just Us & Chocolate

chocolate.
just chocolate
and people
people and chocolate
and tea
gotta have it
just chocolate and people and tea
just us at JustUs!
gotta love sundays
and tea and people and
chocolate.

I Hate Bugs

I HATE bugs.
HATE THEM from their tiny tails to their tiny little mugs.
I know, I know they're good for the planet
But why must they invade my apartment?  DAMN IT!!??
They're squishy and icky and slimy and gross
They're creepy and crawly and crispy (shudder) and too close!
Seeing them is cool out in their natural habitat
Seeing them inside makes me wanna make 'em go SPLAT.
The violence they engender within me is great
Yet I don't have the heart to completely exterminate
Can't we come to an agreement? My white flag is unfurled
Little bugs leave my home - you have the rest of the world!

Sigh.  There's no reasoning with the little shits
Time to let them know... I.... HAVE... HAD.... IT!

Oh look.  Bug spray's on sale.
Stay tuned for the rest of the gruesome... "Donna vs Bugs" tale. 

A Poem With No Rhyme

My challenge today is a poem with no rhyme
A difficult task for a clown with no time... OUT!
Ack! That was close.  WOW! This is hard
Now, where was I? Right. Time out in the yard... NO!

Oh dear, sorry.  It's a sickness you see
I can't seem to help it.  Rhyme is part of me....eaning
In my soul.  It helps shape my goal....ies
Are brave guys don't you think?
Out on the ice, in the net, at the rink...ky

Rinky dink dink, la dee dah, siss boom bah.... ARRGGHHH!!!

Damn!  I'm failing at this self-imposed task
Maybe there's a non-rhyming guru I can as....accidentally
Run into and learn how to...

Write meaning on a page
With no support or structure
With no wall at my back shaping my thoughts
My words struggle in their freedom
As I urge them to exist
Outside of my comfort zone
Without plan
Without pattern
Without rhyme.

Wolfville Moments

Moment #1
The siren jars the air with it's weeewoooo weeeewoooo sound
The big red truck goes whizzing by with wheel's whirling round
The children laugh and point and shout at yet another wonder found
While adults share a knowing look and worry for the downed.

Moment #2
The big dog laps the water up then sits and wags his tail
The little dog prances around the other and sniffing does entail
The third, so happy with the water dish - as if she'd found her grail
Shows her complete and utter joy by kissing all the males. 


Moment #3
The cars crawl by at a snail's pace, putt putt putt putt zoom
The traffic has been heavy and slow all day - all speedsters meet their doom
The drivers glance at our big open window into this cozy coffee room
Bumper to bumper slows them further, both cars and drivers fume.

Moment #4
Two ladies try to cross the street during the traffic rush
They are only 10 feet from the crosswalk - they deserve to be mush
That's mean I know and I don't mean it, it's just a personal peeve
So use the friggin crosswalk! Push the button! Please!!

Moment #5
Sitting in the window and sipping at my tea
And taking the time to wave at the sea
Of people who pass both known and new
Thanks for sweetening the moments that I am sharing with you.

- Donna Holmes. May 20, 2012.   
 

My Poem

A lot of words have been occurring to me lately.  Here is yet ANOTHER new entry.  I actually wrote this and put music to it a couple of weeks ago. As noted to friends earlier, sometimes they come out sounding worse than I actually feel.... as long as I just keep writing them down right?  ;O)

MY POEM

The reason I'm here for
Is not very clear nor
Can I see where I'm going to.
The life that I cheered for
Is no longer here for
Me to choose it over you.

The one that I yearn for
Was never at my door
I'm not even sure he exists
But if ever I hear the
Voice that I steer for
My song will have gotten its wish


CHORUS
And then maybe my life will make sense.
And then maybe I'll find my way home.
So that I can give up the pretence
That all is still well, all is still well, all is still well
With my poem.


My story keeps changing.
The facts rearranging
Themselves into some kind of dance.
Each step has been aging
Me less than engagingly.
I feel I've lost any chance

To stop all the raging
The fear and the caging
Of creative ideas that were bold.
I find that I'm gazing
At stars, each amazing.
Yet can't face how my story's told


CHORUS
Cuz I thought that my life would make sense
And I thought that I'd find my way home
That would let me give up the pretence
That all is still well, all is still well, all is still well
With my poem.

- Donna Holmes, April 15, 2012.

I am a Dragon

I am a dragon who loves rainbows
My flame is a burnt orange sunset
My wings help me soar above the shadows
Through the water-coloured day - not done yet

I am an archer shooting arrows
They're not poisoned but they are sharp
My aim is to poke holes in the shadows
My hope is to reach someone's heart

I am a clown who juggles memories
I'm not good at catching them all
My foolish head suffers brain-freeze
If there's a point, I can't recall

I am a poet who is lost for words
An actor who has lost the play
A singer who is lost in music
And a woman who has lost her way.

Gone the words
Gone the memories
Gone the arrows
Gone the flame.

- Donna Holmes, April 29, 2012.

Big Fat Moments

Big fat droplets of rain drench the street outside the cafe
And my umbrella's at the office.
Pre-teens waiting in the movie line yell "hooray!"
And I sit waiting for something to happen.

Why just wait you ask?
Sometimes, I don't.
Often I make my world move and shake
But sometimes you can only wait.

Big fat moments of potential continue passing by
I'm staying dry sipping tea at my table
The crowd has left the lobby making room for the music
And I sit waiting for something to happen

I'm waiting to happen
Sometimes, I don't
But the world will continue to move and shake
And sometimes you can only wait

Big fat lies in the newspaper make me angry
I'm staying sane by reading the comics
After the cryptoquote spree, I need more tea
While I keep waiting for something to happen.

Why do I wait?
Maybe I won't
Maybe I'll make my world start its move and its shake
Or maybe just sit here and continue to wait.

The Routine Kindness of Strangers

This is something of mine the Grapevine (a little Wolfville publication) printed a couple of Chrismtases ago (out of season I know... oh well.)  I just ran across it again today and thought I'd share it here.  I'd also like to reiterate here that the world is NOT falling apart.  The media only shows us the crappy stuff going on...but good people do great things every day.   WE make this world what it is - are you so bad?  I don't think so.  And I'd just like to say thanks for being pretty great and thanks to all those strangers who have helped me over the years including the following examples...

My (very old and used) car has broken down three Christmases in a row now.  Three years ago the exhaust rusted off.  A nearby garage opened up on Boxing Day - just for me - to wire it up temporarily and then wouldn’t take any money for their work.  Two years ago, on Christmas morning, I was almost run off the highway by a passing car heading in my direction! I avoided the oncoming car, but popped the clutch in the process.  I stood there by my car, about to cry, when a sweet British couple stopped to help.  They’d just moved to Nova Scotia.  One of them let me use the cell phone (that she’d just received that morning) and they drove an hour out of their way to take me to my sister’s house.   Last year,  it was pouring rain on Christmas morning – remember that?    Well, it turns out that old cars like mine, with questionable spark plugs, don’t like the rain.  The car stalled in Kentville just as I turned up Chester Ave - on my annual trek to the South Shore.  I DID cry this time.  Another very nice man actually stopped and tapped on my window to see if I was ok.  He helped me move the car off the road and drove me to a friend’s place where I could use the phone.   Then the friend actually lent me her car for that entire holiday so I could get to my family for Christmas.  In my experience, people are....well they’re just fabulous.  I have been helped by so many strangers over the years – including the time I ran out of gas in Coldbrook and that man drove me to & from the gas station, and the time I locked my keys in the car and that delivery guy used a curtain rod to open my door, and the time that sweet little couple helped me out when I ran out of gas on Belcher street, and the time that nice old man changed my tire in Bridgetown, and...  well, you get the picture.   I am so thankful I live in such an incredible area – a place where many of us have come to rely on the, almost routine, kindness of strangers.    :o)  

Daisy's Dreams

I wrote this little "dream" last fall just after the Deep Roots Music festival.  It is based on a TRUE story.   ;O)

Daisy's Dreams

It was dark, as usual.  Daisy always found her time in the big, dark box peaceful and full of dreamy rainbow fantasies or quiet contemplative moments.  She never got bored – didn’t really know the meaning of the word.  She just knew she was happy to be in a safe dry place. 

There was a jiggle. The safe, dry box was moving.  Perhaps the Maker was just shifting around the storage site as she was often want to do.  Suddenly, Daisy felt a major jolt to one side, then a mighty jiggle back, and then a strange lifting sensation – much like one feels when riding in that other kind of box, the metal one that moves things and people up and down to different floors.  What was that called again?  Telephone?  Elephant? Ah yes!  Elevator!  But she knew she wasn’t in an elevator now.  It felt more familiar than that.  Her safe dry home began vibrating and there was the feeling of acceleration – the regular little jumps and jiggles of Daisy’s well-packed surroundings informed her that she was in a fast-moving machine.  Cup?  Cat?  Car!  “Right.” she thought to herself, “We’re in a car.  We must be going to a festival!”

Oh how exciting!  Daisy just loved festivals.  As much as she loved dreaming in her safe, dry box, she loved participating in festivals even more.  The car’s motion lulled her imaginary mind and, for awhile, she slid into a dozy dream of cheer and magic.

Time passed.  The sudden absence of motion woke her up.  After a few more bumps and jiggles and jolts and a final THUD, the moment that the box dweller had been dreaming of, blazed into reality.  There was so much light, and there, THERE was the Maker smiling down at her.

“Hello Daisy” said the Maker, “Ready to face the world again?”  

Daisy just smiled.  She always smiled.  That was how her face had been painted.  Her perpetual smile made her happy.   Hmmm… or was it the other way around?  Perhaps her happiness made her perpetually smile.  No matter, she just knew, in her wooden-pole soul, that facing the world with her smiling face was a very happy occasion indeed.    

The Maker reached into the box and brought Daisy into the light and placed her on a table.  At that angle, Daisy was just able to see the Maker pull out the rest of her body from the safe, dry box. 

“Here comes the fun part” Daisy thought to herself.  The Maker arranged Daisy’s body – a 5-foot pole draped in a pretty pink and white dress – and stood it against a wall.  Then the Maker lifted Daisy’s large head from the table and placed it on top of the pole.  “There now” Daisy thought.  She was her 7-foot Giant Puppet self once more.

Daisy was a special Giant Puppet.  The older giants required three humans to manipulate them, but Daisy only needed one.  And the best part was that the Maker was often her one human!  Daisy leaned against the wall and waited as the Maker and her helpers assembled the other Giant Puppets.  There was Leroy and Sam and Alice and….oh!  The Jester was with them today as well.  How grand!  Daisy smiled her paper-maché grin at her large friends spaced out along the perimeter of the room.  They smiled back as a fantasy continued to unfold before them.  Soon there were brightly coloured scarves, butterfly wings, beautiful bird masks, and other magical props and glittering costumes strewn around the large room in the chaotic order that only the Maker fully understood.  There were big people and little people helping or learning from the Maker.  No, not little people.  Hmmmm… Chug boats? Chickens?  What was that word again?

“Dennis!” the Maker called out “Could you help that group of children with those butterfly wings?”

Children!  That’s what those little beings were called.  Daisy watched the children laugh and try on costumes and practice flying. 

“Watch out!” cried Dennis.  He quickly shooed his group of butterflies out of the way as the Jester lurched forward alarmingly fast. 

“Easy now” soothed the Maker to the Jester’s humans.  “Hold the pole up straight” she told one and “wave that arm more slowly” she said to another.  The Maker taught the humans how to move the Jester with the majesty that befitted his station.  The Jester was the first of this Giant Puppet community and the Maker made sure his humans treated him with the respect that garnered him.  The Jester gave a slow regal wave to Daisy and she knew that everything would be ok.  She smiled back. 

“It’s almost time to start” boomed a big man wearing an orange vest.  “Time to line up!”

“A parade!”  Daisy concluded.  “We’re getting ready for a parade!  Oh how very VERY grand!”

“Ready Daisy?” asked the Maker.  Daisy smiled.  The Maker fastened Daisy’s pole harness around her shoulders and waist then pulled down Daisy’s pretty pink & white dress all around her.  The Maker was completely hidden under Daisy’s pretty dress. The dress was made of special lace that allowed the Maker to see the world through Daisy’s tummy.  Daisy wanted to giggle in delight she was so excited.

“Here we go” boomed the man in the orange vest.

The big doors were opened and the multi-hued group of puppets and humans emerged out towards the bright sunny day.  The Maker bent low to get through the door without bumping Daisy’s head.  The Maker moved forward so Daisy moved forward.  Daisy and the Maker liked to walk at the back of the parade so they could see everyone in front of them and also watch for straggling butterflies.  A riot of colour and laughter danced down the street before them.  The butterflies with graceful flowing wings joined bright beautiful fish, sparkling birds, and other charming creatures as they all fluttered, swam, flapped, and mingled their way through the town.  There were people of all shapes and sizes wearing gleaming costumes of silver and gold and purple and red.  There were drummers and dancers and even a friendly little dog wearing a rainbow collar.  And interspersed throughout, were the stately Giant Puppets waving to the cheering crowds that had gathered along the roadside. 

The parade passed by the Farmers’ Market and the Giants could hear entrancing music coming from the stage.  The Maker began to dance, so Daisy began to dance.  The Maker twirled, so Daisy twirled.  Sam and Alice clapped their large hands in time to the music and Leroy did a giant jig.  The Jester moved majestically through the crowd and Daisy smiled and smiled. 

Eventually it was time to go back.  The swirling mass of puppets and people, almost floating on the joy they had created, drifted back towards the big building where it all began.  The Giant Puppets all bent low to get back into the door.   The humans, big and small, took off their bright costume pieces and began to pack the bits of enchantment away. 

The Maker unharnessed herself from Daisy and came out from under the pretty pink & white dress.  “Now wasn’t that fun” said the Maker to Daisy.  Daisy couldn’t wipe the smile off her face, she was so happy.  Happy and tired - what a big day it had been.  The Maker reached up and carefully removed Daisy’s head from her pole and placed it on the table once again.  As the humans packed away the other puppets and costumes, Daisy quietly watched the Maker carefully prepare Daisy’s storage box - placing her pole, dress, and large hands inside.  Finally the Maker lifted Daisy’s head from the table and laid it in the cozy darkness.  

“Great job today Daisy” whispered the Maker. “Sleep well my friend”.

“Good work.” thought Daisy sleepily.  No, that wasn’t it.  “Good news?”  She was so tired she didn’t think she would remember… wait!  “Good NIGHT” she thought with a drowsy smile.  The Maker grinned down at the large smiling face and placed the lid back on the storage crate.  The puppet welcomed the dark and fell back into a relaxed meditation of the magic, colours, wishes, and things that made up the stuff of Daisy’s dreams.

- Written by Donna Holmes, Sept 27, 2010.