Snowmobile Adventure

Snow machines & rye

Finally, enough snow and they had the same days off. Not too cold, although he really had a hard time calling even the coldest of days in Nova Scotia all that cold. Comes from growing up in Saskatchewan he thought. It can get miserable here with the cold wet winds but cold? Not really. Besides, he was dressed for it and rarin’ to go. A brand new pair of cold weather boots that were giving him fits, he gave up trying to get his feet into them at home. He was running late anyway. Continue reading “Snowmobile Adventure”

West Coast Musings

These poems were written within a few days of settling into my new home and new life on Vancouver Island. They were connected to one another in my head and heart, hence strung together here one after the other.



Life is a puzzle you put together in the dark
No picture to guide you even if you had a spark
Someone lost the box or maybe it’s in the closet
The one with the key and no locks. Continue reading “West Coast Musings”

Empty Heart

Something Old and Discovered

I found a notebook while cleaning up and reorganizing through this renovation period. For those that have known me far too long, the dates of these particular entries are somewhat meaningful. Late July 1995 to late July 1996…the period between when wife number two left me and mere weeks before I fell down, went boom and altered my life a bit.

December 19, 2010 at 4:06pm

Gathered Rain

When will I gather rain?

Cool clean water

wash away my pain.

Continue reading “Empty Heart”

Quiet Night in Rehab

The quiet of the city

In the quiet of the night, the only sound is the cars passing by tires hissing on wet pavement. With the idiot box muted it is somewhat odd how quiet the city can be. No voices breaking the still of the coming darkness, too wet and unpleasant for foot traffic and even if there was it is not the kind of weather one chats in. You put your head down and get to where you are going without much chit chat. Continue reading “Quiet Night in Rehab”


May 2, 2010 ·

     Christ it was hot. Then again it was supposed to be hot. What did he expect? Sitting motionless in his wheelchair at the edge of the ocean in Mexico, it was SUPPOSED to be hot. What was really on his mind was what the hell was he doing in this particular place at this particular point in time. Was he really going to do this? Sometimes he thought his sense of adventure far outstripped his sense of reality. Para-sailing? Sweet sufferin’ Christ on a crutch what had he gotten himself into this time? he thought with a smile that no one else could see. Continue reading “Flying”

Waking up

I originally wrote this in my notebook while in the Nova Scotia Rehab Centre, sometime around September or October of 1996. Once I learned how to get myself out of bed and into my wheelchair, I spent a lot of time passing the quiet hours at my bedside desk writing. Letters home to family, entries into an impromptu diary, poems (such as they are) all in an attempt to wrap my head around what had happened, what was happened and might yet happen.

Waking Up

Suddenly, it was like somebody switched on the light from a completely dark and silent room. He could only stare in wide eyed wonderment as he was plunged into light and noise and motion. Actual terror overtook him as he realized the man leaning over to speak to him was wearing a flight helmet.

Continue reading “Waking up”