page pictureGREENTEETH LABYRINTH
Would I Pen You
Helga Ross A small selection of poems by Canadian writer Helga Ross exploring in poetry the interation of the emotional cycles of human relationships with the cycles of nature. Each poem has a different subject and each looks at a different season and a relationship in diffrent stages of its development. CREATIVE COMMONS: Some rights reserved. Distribution: Non - commercial, attrib, no derivs, All reproductions should be credited to Helga Ross and linked to "http://www.greenteethmm.com/featwriter/helgaross"
On The Cusp

On the Cusp of Something

Pinocchio: [noticing the raft] A raft? That's it! We'll take the raft. And when the whale opens his mouth...

A tawdry and a dreary time
a dictator's dead and there is no snow
but rogue storms through the Rockies
winter in limbo.
A phony season pretending spring,
lovely, yet a peculiar thing
lulls the hot heads from its hint of threat
off-focus of the battle zone.
On the flanks, toboggans in the basement,
cooler heads worry so.
December drizzle and a war without end
with the daily drip, drip, drip, of the dead
to the three-thousandth repeat round number
and the New Year still in old throes;
the breaking Arctic ice shelf alarming the caring,
of the drowning polar bears;
"we're winning!" what global warming?" let's pretend.
Yet the real is not the reality show;
the denouement, not the drop of puppeteer prop-
a sham of a martyrdom-
and the moral tale Pinocchio's.
What's to fear you prefer? Nature's wrath? Nuclear holocaust?
Where's the Hero we hunger for, or the hope?
Who can save us the Future from the looming harms?

Helga Ross 2007

Top of page Reluctant Bride

The Eskimos had fifty-two names for snow because it was important to them:
there ought to be as many for love. ~Margaret Atwood

Where's the snow that fell the year that fled-Where's the snow?
~Samuel Lover

Snow, a surprise to see, to like, at last!
The ground lovely white as a wedding gown,
the diaphanous veil drowning the brown,
she beyond beauty, the bride of forecast.
Rumour has it she has cold feet; is fast,
of late, feeling the heat of the count down;
so she shrugs the cold shoulders and fells the frown
as her suitor pleads, who's pleased that that's past.
But wait-signs are served along with her vows
of no forever; no death do us part;
meaning, all the seasons of her seasons.
Her feelings melting just as ours arouse,
like her spouse, wedded to her fickle heart,
whose need exceeds want: Love has its reasons.

Helga Ross 2007

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A Wild Coexistence

A Canadian poet enjoys "hot, hazy, humid" lazy summer days on Southern Ontario's suburban fringes:
A hammock, a hot day, a leaf adrift,
I love these warps and wefts of resistance
as breezes buffet and butterflies lift
alongside, alike, tacking existence;
enveloped, vaulted sky and grassy sea;
suspended, forest core to urban fringe.
A heron lands on quay, his bended tree;
nearby boggy pond, waterfowl still binge.
Echoes persist of habitat's pardon.
I hear the hum of traffic over hill,
phantom footfalls native to this garden,
caring to keep these legacies we kill;
content to cohabit woodlands and lawn,
wildness as vital as the next day's dawn.

Helga Ross 2004, 2006

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Cardinal Designs


(In praise of Cardinalis cardinalis, the Northern Cardinal:)

Whistles and a flurry of crimson wings
signals he watches when she looks for him;
skyward, eyes, where he sways on cedar, sings,
flinging bursts of flattering hymns at whim.

How odd their courtship leads to this courtyard
the hen shares with the She who crafts alone
Romance poems; his own beguile the bard,
vermilion audacity proudly shown.

Purty, purty, purty, his tenor trill
thrills her vanity. Silly, she know none
but the feathered one fulfills-Her, who will?-
his mate for life-Her home by extension.

The Creator makes Books good as Covers:
Designs good-looking heroes, best lovers?

Helga Ross 2004, 2006

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ANY POET IN A STORM New Poems from Greenteeth Writers
Fathers Day
Ian R Thorpe reflects on the commercialisation of parenthood and the real value of family life.

Atomic Verse
The science of atomic reactioons might leem like barren territory for a poet but Ian R Thorpe conjures some very interesting verse from it.

The Aspirational
This poem is a hectic anti - materialim rant written with an insistent rhythm, in performance it is a poetic earworm. Another incitement to reject convention from a writer who should have been one of poetry's bad boys except that the Arts establishment Politically Correct Thought Police do not like bad boys or individuals now.

On The Imminent Marriage Of A Former Lover
Poets and writers used to be hedonists, Byron was described as mad, bad and dangerous to know, Coleridge was a drug addict, Dylan Thomas a hellraising drunk many other were prodigious drinkers, shaggers, promiscuous homosexuals and compuslive gambers. More recently however poetry and literatute like so much of cultural life has been hijacked by The Politically Correct Thought Police. The fightback starts here. This poem is about feral passion and rule breaking sex in the well ordered world of suburbia.

Devil Raise Me From The Grave
Poets and writers used to be hedonists, Byron was described as Mad, bad and dangerous to know, Coleridge was a drug addict, Dylan Thomas a hellraising drunk many other were prodigious drinkers, shaggers, promiscuous homosexuals and compuslive gambers. More recently however poetry and literatute like so much of cultural life has been hijacked by The Politically Correct Thought Police, the righteous hand wringers who would turn all of us into unthinking automatons, slaves of the all powerful state. In Devil Raise Me From The Grave a man looks back from middle age, yearing for the life he imagined would be his...

Statistics Graphs And Hockey Sticks
The case for carbon driven anthropogenic global warming was made they said, the science was settled brandishing the infamously phoney "hockey stick graph. All that remained, our leaders said was tu let the scientists loose with unproven technologies and unforseeable consequences, let the politicians loose with unprecedented taxes to tax each journey and tax us when we sit at home and to let loose the billionaires to make markers in self indulgence andtrade carbon allowances. It was a scam, the science was not settled. 2000 years ago Cicero asked the Roman senate "Cui bono," who benefits. We should always ask they same when scientists and politicians tell us they are acting in the public good. Text Only The Offcomer
A short verse reminding everyone to care for the birds in this current bout of "global warming" that has seen temperatures plunge to record lows in the coldest November and December on record.

From The Darkness
A poem for the vernal equinox from Ian R. Thorpe's Eightfold Year set which celbrates the festivals and season of the North European pagan year. These nature poems concentrate on the rhythms of the natural cycle, birth, growth, maturity, decline, death and rebirth and relate them to the cycles of human life. From the darkness looks at the return of life to the landscape after the dark, cold days of winter.

Abstract Expressionism
We live in an age of plenty, when poverty is defined by not having the latest designer clothing or an internet enabled smartphone, there is a new, invisible kind of poverty. It can be seen in the faces of people who look affluent and well provided for, in the emptiness in their eyes. It is not poverty through lack of money but deprivation of those bonds of family and community that anchor us spiritually. Such separation can often lead to loneliness, isolation, depression and insanity, true poverty among material plenty as depicted in this story in verse based on a real event.

After You
A hedonists denunciation of politically correct hypocrisy; a savage indictment of the self righteous, authoritarian, politically correct left by a lifelong anarchist who has rebelled against everything and is not yet ready to be told what he has to think or believe. by British poet Ian R Thorpe
A Pale Horse - poem Ian R Thorpe, music Brother Bastion
A poem of grief for a lover who might have taken her own life ... or a lament for a fantasy. Why was she hanged from a willow tree by a stream, what's important about the redness of her lips or the contrast of her back hair against the white linen? The rider on the pale horse is an obvious reference to the Bible but how can the sacrifice of the narrative voice let the woman live again. Those are just a few hints to help you unravel this mystical lyric with so many pagan flavours.
Love Like ChainsTo many people love is the thing that sets them free but to some it is a prison. This poem by English poet Ian R. Thorpe looks at how some women in particular are slaves to jealousy and wear their love like chains.

  • Ancient Rites - Guilty FeelingsAnybody who has never cheated has never been in love. Even if it is only a dream, a wish, a desire to be with someone else, if you look at your partner and see someone else's face. Quite simply the rules imposed on us only make most people unhappy. The only rule to be applied constantly for a happy partnership is "tolerate and forgive - we're all human." As for those constraints imposed by creed and convention, when the hormones speak, rules should all be suspended until chemical balance is restored. Armageddon - Ian R Thorpe

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    After You Ian R Thorpe asks what will be left of our culture when the Thought Police have completed their experiments in social engineering.

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