Artist’s Context – Poem: Villanelle
I wrote this in the middle of a depressive episode.
It reflected the way I was feeling about the world.

A Villanelle
Good men fall and angels weep,
The night awaits no matter how bright the day,
For in the end we all must sleep.

We hope our fragile dreams will keep,
But wicked days help them to fade away,
As good men fall and angels weep.

Perhaps some curses run too deep.
And their price may be too much to pay,
In the end we all must sleep.

Every mountain’s high has a valley deep.
Each has allure and tempting ways,
As Good men fall and angels weep.

When familiar shadows come to reap,
Can there be peace beyond the day?
In the end we all must sleep.

Memories fade as the end it  creeps.
We’re the sum of all that’s come our way.
Good men will fall as angels weep,
For in the end we all must sleep.

Artist’s Context – Prose: My Uncle
This is about a “conversation” I had with my uncle.
It was about a situation that he had no place involving himself in.
Yet, fuelled by alcohol, he felt it was his job to set me straight.

My Uncle
You and I were family.
But this didn’t matter when you were losing your grip on a world that wasn’t yours.
They welcomed me into the family, when you could only stand on the outside.
Your vile sermon stunned me and I choked on your hateful words.
I crawled inside myself and mourned a broken world.

For five miserable years I wallowed in the shame you made me feel.
It took ten more, and an amazing girl, to stitch me back together.
But there are some wounds that will never heal.

After all this time and all you’d done, you’d lost your grip, and a family member too.

And now you’re gone, to God knows where, my feelings haven’t changed.

The dead may pass but do not deserve kind words if they were not earned in life.
You don’t deserve my pity or scorn.
You don’t even deserve my hate.

Artist’s Context – Prose: The Breakup
Here I reflect on a break up I had many years ago.
It was very emotional and nearly impossible, but ultimately had to be done.

The Breakup
Determined. Unsure. Brave. Terrified.

I hang on a rope. The fire slowly snakes its way down.
I see the ever present darkness waiting below.
My stomach churns, my head pounds, I want to leave. But it is too late.
I am a coward with nowhere left to run.

She is here.

She saunters in, floral green and white encase her elegant body.
A toxic angel with raven hair, framing a face of hopeful dread.
My fractured mind screams with countless voices begging me to fold.
“Run to her!” they plead. “Hold her and feel her tender milky skin.”
“Smell that enthralling scent and lose yourself in her soul!”

A calm and soothing voice cuts through the fear.
“Hold fast. Remember the fire. Its seductive dance is enticing, but pain follows close.”
I forced my tongue to yield.

It whimpers when the frightful words emerge, breaking my heart.
My eyes are lead. God could not force me to meet her gaze.
My shame trails into silence, broken only by soul wrenching sobs.
Her face is a picture of graceful agony, her sobs failing to hide the pain.
My skin burns from my cruelty, my breath chokes me with guilt.
I fight the urge to run to her, hold her and soothe her.
Instead I leave her to suffer alone.

I cling to the rope. The fire has faded.
The rope is old and frayed but I am afraid to let go.

I’m sick with despair for there is nothing left.
I raise my lips to the rope, whisper “I’m sorry” to her vacant space.
I let go. I descend into the darkness.

Artist’s Context – Haiku (three examples)
Haiku — a short form of Japanese poetry in three phrases
and often structured with pre-determined syllable counts —
is included in many of the ARRTS Programs.
As I attended in November, which encompassed Remembrance Day,
I was motivated to reflect on what that commemoration means.

Commemorations
Turning the world red
With falling poppies

The Unnamed Soldier
Inspiration
For thousands more

Red poppies
Marking the remembered
But not the unforgotten