A Poem About Vanity ~ “Vanity Crows”

Vanity Crows

Oh to be so vain –

Is the shortest space

Between the plains,

The proud look ~

In the eye of the mind

Is broken and blind.

The trickster crow

Scans the lines ~

Passing the time –

As flattery goes

From Aim to Be,

A winged defeat –

As the crow flies

Soon we will find,

He has left his feet,

Beside our eyes.

Valerie Hayes

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West (2023). Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Who & What Defines Us? A Preface In Poetic Prose

Who And What Defines Us?

Who and what can define us? The onus is on us. Be on the qui vive for wanton marauders, whose millstone will shackle, pulverize and grind, and will bottle you as a kickback, to grease their behinds. Solemn and syrupy, they will sodomize your mind. Our essence is our selfhood. It orbits around kith and kin, our level of education, what we do for a living, what we pilot to procure, our get up and go, the sidekicks we endear, and whether or not, we are bankrolled in dough.

Customarily, our portrayal is trussed up in family, and the semblance of order within. For some, it is in subduing a mammoth – and becoming a survivor of calamity and havoc, such as addiction, illness, accident, divorce, or a fall into some other harrowing abyss. Establishing a career is a pilgrimage. It can traipse us across a praiseworthy promenade, pitch us a salient hot potato, or place us in a ponderous pickle. Financial stability and net worth are worthwhile ambitions – because they bring challenge, peace of mind, veneration, and an enhanced lifestyle. Fair enough.

Change comes through all kinds of upheaval. There is opportunity for cerebration, rumination, reflection, and hindsight to wax the wheels of change. Fluky or fortuitous – those defining demarcations, are but thumbnail sketches of life as we know it, and can splinter or rupture, into a jumble of rubble. Detour and take the divergent route, lugging and dragging a convoy of paraphernalia and baggage, and even so, we are wrestling the wind. Rein in and buckle down for vital acclimatization, distended and magnified, when you envisage yourself as a pawn or memento.

As though soaked and sodden, steeped in lumps and oodles, blended and amalgamated, joined and entwined, thrust into the pandemonium of a hooligan’s hokum. Discern it. Don’t deny it. Don’t acquiesce, or permit it to pillage you further. For soon there is a juncture, from engulfed and submerged, as it sequentially sinks in – then ascends to a conversion, and will augment migration.

One of life’s central battles is to define our own purpose for existence. There can be ferocity in the resistance one meets, just in making a choice to live your own life. Every stage of development we go through in life is a step toward asserting our own autonomy.

Unfortunately there are those who grow up lacking the perimeters to sustain internal cohesion, in relation to their own autonomy. It is a type of arrested development. The resulting intrinsic insecurity causes controlling, dominating, and manipulative behaviors. What they want supersedes the rights of other people. They cling to a malignant self-love as a form of self-exaltation. Self becomes the monument and simultaneously their worldview shrinks. They are gummed up in a bubble of delusion.

Bullies insist on targeting, limiting, assaulting in a variety of ways, defining and exploiting others for their own gain. They manipulate until they are blue in the face, and it will never be enough. At the end of the day – this is what defines them. We are ultimately defined by our own character traits. Almost everything else is transient.

What superficially defines us can be clawed away, to bring us vis-a-vis with the nothingness Jean-Paul Sartre so bleakly wrote about in “Being And Nothingness”. But he did converge upon the urgency to overcome conniving and dismal, onerous, backbreaking and confining, tyrannical, superincumbent, oppressive forces – in order to live an authentic life. The upsurge within us, scintillates the brain waves, to reconcile for ourselves, who and what enlightens and emboldens us.

For slamming the door in the face of the Exclusive Brethren teacher at last, they condemn me to the depths of wickedness and the vehement blaze of eternal damnation. They cannot contain or conceal the smoldering animosity toward me. They justify penance around accusations of me being the cause of an incessant rumble. The battle encompasses rebuffing the teacher and his dog-eared refusal to take no for an answer. The dinky deduction is to make me the disturbance, even though it ejaculated from his own shrinking loins.

They redefined me as the designated and devoted doyenne of fighting and fracas for fraying the finery of a fibbing disaster. I have transformed into a provocateur with a hitch and become a problematic snafu. A whistling quandary to be contained and restrained, or cease to exist.

They chew it as sinew to prolong the affliction. They seek to seclude, to ambush again, with a paroxysm of more sonorous suffering. They shrink into a desolate domicile, by stunting and stuffing, slurping on swagger, and suffocating sensibilities, for sick selfish reasons.

They are prepared to do combat and will keep right on clashing, until they stumble into a sweeping fiasco. The teacher wants an orifice for a consummate conclusion. The unease they perceive as a menace, crowning this compulsion, prompting surveillance or minding – is provoked by the scant bounty of what I am thinking.

The point of convergence in all of my thinking is to stop the madness, abort the injustice, and transform this aberration into an acknowledgment of the fundamental rights of others, particularly women and children. They have no right to make acceptance in my own family conditional upon the Exclusive Brethren bulldozer teacher being my au pair and daddy-god. They counterfeit themselves as venerating religious fundamentalists, yet they flubbed the nitty-gritty nuances, to become a figment, a yarn entwined in ballyhoo and knotted in hoopla.

Sooner or later the authentic self rises from an intrinsic driving force, giving direction until you arrive at, and acknowledge that existential place of nothingness. It took until I came to that place of acceptance on being nothing, knowing when we die we must let go of it all anyway, and in understanding that once we are born, we exist in this world and have as much right to be here as anyone else…

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West (2023). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Truth Is A Rocky Road

Truth is a rocky road –

We skin our knees

To save our soul.

We are all alone ~

Like a blade of grass

Shivers in the cold.

Each arrow quivers

As it takes aim,

To make a point

Filled with blame.

Without a guide,

We lose our way.

He holds the light;

We can only pray –

To avoid the pit

To escape the snare,

We cross our part.

He will till the seed

Draw out the sap

And claim our heart.

Lies are a trap

Unless we find,

Truth’s sure embrace.

For the love of God

Is filled with grace.

Valerie Hayes

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West (2023). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Snare Of The Fowler ~ A Bird On The Fly

The Snare of the Fowler –

We are prey in its teeth,

For the bird is ensnared ~

As she prays for release.

Soon all of the noise,

And fear of disease –

Is lost from her mind.

The trap springs open –

With no latch she could find.

Wings open her eyes,

Above the trees,

No longer blind.

Or dreams to be free!

Never again stoop,

Like a fool in the dark –

She has been shown,

 Is no longer duped.

Her notes are stark –

So let it be known ~

A snake is no lark. 

Valerie Hayes

Happy Father’s Day!

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West (2022). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

Hold Onto Hope

Put flies on your ears,

And a bug on your collar –

Then wash off the fears

From the media’s squalor.

Put germs on your list,

Then cover your face

And clench your fist

So you leave no trace.

But pray do tell –

What is the point?

For every point has an end

Or an aim –

A spike in the bend 

Continues the game.

  We are still free to dream

Nothing can bind us

To their scheme.

Who knows the breadth and scope?

Or when we have had our fill.

They can pillage and poke –

But they can’t take our will

 So hold on to hope.

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West (2022). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Would You Rather Have A Fickle Fact?

Would you rather have a fickle fact,

And pickle it in time?

Or will you try another tact,

To brighten up your mind?

Seek the truth and you will find

The latest craze is just a phase,

The truth got left behind.

Stranded in the broken haze,

The smoke is on the trail

The vapors are inhaled

The eyes are turning blind.

Yet the mirror in the sky

Will reflect the humble cry,

So let’s keep asking why.

Like dancing phantoms on the fly,

The lies get blown away.

Truth is water to the seed ~

It grows from what it means.

Or nothing looms above us,

And nothing lurks below

We have nothing to hold onto,

And nowhere left to go…

Valerie Hayes

Stargazer Lily
Stargazer Lily

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West (2021). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Anger Is The Devil’s Weed

Oh woe!

Oh no!

What a nasty foe –

I almost dropped a daisy

Drooping over the railing’s edge.

There is no doubt –

A purple pansy,

Would have knocked him out.

He will soon be wailing

At the very thought,

Though both were caught

Before they floated down

Or ever hit the ground.

His screaming tantrums

Over a flower pot,

Are just his thoughts.

And his baseless deeds –

For what he sows

Is what he feeds –

And his ranting rage

Is like the devil’s weed.

Oh sigh!

My flowers do not ~

Have wings to fly.

And if they did,

They would surely try

To bring some sunshine

From the sky!

Valerie Hayes

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West (2021). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

JuxtaPose Women’s Roles ~ On Black & White Poles

Wired with lace –

Just a corset away

From a skirt with a cage.

Put your head in a thimble

We all must be nimble –

Each end has a point ~

Yet we can’t find the middle.

To sheer black & white

Spin day into night.

A wish we must wash

For where we have been

Shows shades of grey.

And all we can say –

After all we have seen?

Some never get dirty…

And some never come clean.

Valerie Hayes

 

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West (2021). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Stalin & The Murdered Poets In 1952

When I steam and photograph dresses from the thirties to the fifties, I often wonder who wore the dress and how she was affected by the events surrounding the Second World War.

So many people migrated to North America during that period of time. I knew Stalin had ordered poets and writers to be murdered, and shuddered at the thought. Over the years I have written an anthology of lyric poetry – and could not see what the reason could possibly be, to execute people for writing poetry.

I mean, 1952 is not in the same historical time frame as the Salem witch trials, but these atrocities do have certain commonalities. When I examine a vintage dress, I often think, “This dress existed and was worn by a real person during the war, and post war time frame.”

Just ponder for a moment, what human conversations, deeds, deceptions, hope, and suffering had developed in the world. Imagine for a moment what inanimate objects could bear witness to. It makes me consider what was going on in Europe and the Soviet Union following the Second World War.

Although Stalin ordered the execution of an unknown number of writers and poets during his reign, the most notorious is “The Night of the Murdered Poets” August 12th, 1952, and is remembered by the Jewish communities and writer’s groups each year on August 12th.

It began with a group of Yiddish intellectuals and writers who were a part of, or in support of the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee.

The committee was formed in 1942 to support the Jewish people during the threat of Nazi Germany. They soon became overwhelmed by the plight of the Jewish people throughout Europe, which led to an appeal to the Kremlin. The Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee (JAC) was started, and led by renowned Yiddish actor and theatre director Solomon Mikhoels.

It appears the primary objective of the JAC was to create, write and deliver material to influence Western public opinion.

After the war, with the onset of the Cold War and the establishment of Israel – Stalin became increasingly paranoid of a US invasion.

The JAC was accused of “slandering Soviet reality”. Stalin came to believe the Soviet Jews had stronger loyalties to the US. The JAC could not survive under these tensions. Mikhoels was murdered in January of 1948 under Stalin’s orders.

Although there are reports those who were murdered on August 12, 1952, were all writers and poets, only five of the defendants were known literary figures, one who wrote children’s literature.

The remaining people held prominent positions, and had become influential within the committee and beyond. The group of writers and intellectuals were arrested in 1948, imprisoned, tortured, forced to sign false confessions – and ultimately executed in the basement of the Lubyanka prison.

The charges were false accusations surrounding espionage, treason and bourgeois nationalism. All were convicted in a secret trial. The trial transcripts are painful to read. There are in-depth descriptions of the methods used to force the confessions, and how each of the accused handled the torture and trial.

How did we get the idea the fifties was a time of innocence?

The year the JAC was dismantled with the murder of its leader – is the same year Canadian lawyer John Humphreys’ (and others) drafted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. It is the most widely translated document in Canada’s legal history (over 300 languages). It is considered the Magna Carta for all mankind. It revolutionized, and provided the baseline for International law.

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights was written after a colossal amount of human suffering, and violations of fundamental human rights.

People saw the progression to the atrocities after the fact. First, they took away economic and property rights. Then, they took away the right to freedom of expression and freedom of association.

They aim for absolute control – including thought reform. The outcome of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights on a global level, brought recognition of, and defined the equal and inalienable rights of all people.  Every single person who attains power over the lives of others should become familiar with this document.

When we see a rise in fascism, along with human rights violations – we cannot deny what happened in 1952. We can only hope history will not repeat itself.

If walls and furniture, and dresses could speak – what judgment there would be on those who deceive, and abuse power over the lives of others?

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West (2020). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Sum Of A Hen Pecked Farmer

Sum Of A Hen Pecked Farmer

Dusty old farmer,

Out working the field ~

At the end of the day

He came in for his meal.

He hung up his hat, 

And laid down his tool.

His wife was a pecker,

& He wasn’t a fool

Not sure what to do.

For it got to the point

Where he’d eat ~

And she’d chew…

When it would snow,

He’d haul out the shovel

& Behind him she’d blow.

He soon got the drift

Piled onto his soul ~

To dig out from under

And climb out of the hole.

No need for a fight –

When words go asunder;

To recover his woes –

He knew what was right.

One bright morning,

He leapt out of bed ~

Why harp on one’s fate?

Instead

He put her words on his plate

And the eggs in his head.

He soaked them in gravy,

And mushed them on bread –

Then drank them with beer.

And what do you know?

True to the letter ~

No spell for a fight –

His digestion got better

When his senses took flight!

Valerie Hayes

October 13, 2016

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West (2020). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Doorway To Denial

You think –

I think.

I’d rather not…

Show you –

The thought

–I’ve got.

Your technique;

Interprets me –

To be…

A freak.

Like a germ –

Might I squirm;

Until you learn,

Which way to turn…

To catch it.

Make it clean;

Fix the screen.

The door unlocks,

Content shocks!

– So Latch it.

A vacuum finds;

Proud empty minds –

Closed up tight –

Sans insight.

Sucks up time

& Leaves truth behind.

Valerie Hayes

This poem was written long before covid with the germ metaphor. It seems rather facetious now.

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2020). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Faith

I found a leaf pressed in a book;

A reminder of when like a leaf I shook,

As God opened the door a crack,

And showed me how we get off track.

Letting go and without restraint;

Just barely missed the sewer’s drain,

How carefree it must have floated down,

Lost and doomed to a decaying ground.

Then someone picked it up to save,

And placed it gently on the page.

Oh we – just like a leaf will fall,

Our lives on earth are just as small.

Faith is knowing that we can too,

Be picked up and our lives made new.

Valerie Hayes

1991

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2020). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A Poem Called Flirting With Homo ~ Nyms

Flirting With Homo~Nyms 

If the needles on trees

Could sew up the breeze

And the date on the calendar

Might sweeten and please ~

If the legs on the table

Could walk away free —

Then grey doesn’t matter

If you are thinking of me.

 

If the hand on the clock

Runs out of time…

And the catch is a fluke

But meant to be mine.

If one stalk of celery

Should follow me home

And the peel of an onion

Cries when I’m gone…

 

If the crop bears fruit

Without loss of its sides,

And the train has a thought

That both of us ride –

If the pair has a shape

That won’t alter or divide ~

Then whatever the weather

We could bail it together.

 

If you bolt when I see you

I’ll pipe up in your dreams –

And the drift will hold true ~

Like a trunk full of steam. 

Valerie J. Hayes

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2018). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A Poem Called ~ Night Nurse Nuance

Night Nurse Nuance

Dark earth spins –

Dawn rolls in,

Ever so slow —

Her haggard face,

Knows pallor & grey…

Within a quiet daze –

Droops her weary head,

& For a time she stays.

Responsibility weighs –

Work consumes her,

Yet time she takes,

When morning breaks…

To brighten up

Her weary face.

Her light comes on,

Work gets done.

Then ~ With poles reversed,

As sunlight bursts –

Gather up those…

Dead dog tired –

Weary bones

Unplug the phones

…& Go to bed.

Valerie J. Hayes

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2018). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Charting Coastal Ideas ~ About The Inside Passage Legendary Map

The Inside Passage Map is a soulful and romantic map integrating cartography, poetry, visual art, historical research, inspiration, nature and different cultures of people.

A unique portrayal of the west coast has been created. The goal was to create a beautiful collector’s map with a diverse range of information and ideas.

At the heart of the map is the desire to bring recognition and appreciation for the power and harmony within lyric poetry – by bringing it to you alive – as art.

Points of Interest

The Border – Intricate and full of detail, the design alternates between panoramic west coast scenery and flowers, with sea life weaved in between. The decorative cameos, which are centered in the border, contain ghosted flowers and verse. This tiny poem is referred to as the “rhyming riddle”. If you follow the rhyme of each line within each cameo, you will be able to figure out the correct order of the verse. It was originally written as a twelve-line poem. It captures the overall theme and design of the map.

The Legend Box – The legend box gives the title and the main poem, which together, create a parallel between both the outer and inner conditions that we face in our lives. The third line of the poem refers to tragedy and death (swallows sleep). Wind O’less means windowless and refers to the inner person. Inside of ourselves – unseen by other people, the waves of emotion, the cycles of despair, and contractions of grief are compared to the waves of the ocean in force and rhythm. The Inside Passage poem was born of this understanding. It is a sequel to grief-written poems called Lunar Tunes and Window Pain.

The Quiet-West Crest – The bottom center of the legend box is a crest designed to visually express the profile and goals of Quiet West Publishing. Firstly it contains a scrolled map to represent the historical BC coastal collector’s map concept. An open book contains reductions of actual stained glass windows with images of ladies wearing brimmed hats. Above the book a paintbrush and pen are crossed, combining the literary and visual arts. The rising sun represents the hope we have for each tomorrow.

Cartouches – The eagle, sighted frequently along the west coast is shown flying down to her nest and represents responsibilities to future generations. The bear, shown to the left of the legend box, is near Tatshenshini – Alsek Park. This region, which is home to countless species of wildlife, is one of the most important protected wilderness parks in the world. To the left of the compass rose, there is a scene depicting trade between the European and Haida people. The costumes, along with the illustration of the Haida settlement in the background are historically and culturally representative. The Nuu-chal-nuth people are featured in the whaling expedition scene. This dramatic cartouche was placed in close proximity to Quatsino Sound, the historical whaling harbor on northern Vancouver Island. The face in the wind represents the stormy and treacherous conditions on western Vancouver Island and the Olympic Peninsula. Cherubs hover over the globe to show the location of the Inside Passage and to represent a stylistic feature commonly used on seventeenth century maps.

The Compass Rose – The interesting and elaborate compass rose design was created by placing a borrowed seventeenth century brooch on a hand-made European lace doily. The brooch was brought to Canada by Scandinavian war bride Elinor Thun. She wrote the description as follows: “This particular brooch is more than eight hundred years old, and came from a western fjord in Norway at Siem, near Bergen from the maternal side of my family. It is known in Norwegian as “solje or kappe-brosje”. Brooches of these types were used by men and women to hold their capes in place. Jewelry of the day was worn as an expression of wealth, and would sometimes be given as gifts from one king to another. The Vikings were great travellers and the designs show an eastern flair which would eventually weave itself into the culture of the Norse-lands.” Elinor Thun Ueland 1994.

Cartography – The map was created by using an extensive amount of historical reference material, by translating poems into images – and by merging art with technology. Land contours and shoreline details were carefully blended to create emphasis and depth. Mossy greens, white mountain peaks, rich earth tones, hand lettered names, and locations of notable shipwrecks bring harmony and intrigue into the map.

Whether your interests are philosophical or artistic, this map demonstrates originality and lasting value. It is a truly great work – to honour one of the most beautiful places in the world.

Measures 24″ x 36″.

Created and Published in 1993 by Quiet West Publishing & Marketing.

Purchase on this website for $40.00 each + Shipping. It can be found under Categories – Accessories Art Objects. Two for $35.00 each. For wholesale prices contact Valerie at quietwest@yahoo.com.

https://www.quietwest.com/shop/accessories/inside-passage-legendary-map-24-x-36-detailed-west-coast-collectors-map/

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2018). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A Poem ~ How I Change

How I Change

I change

Behind a curtained blind,

Where some of me 

Gets left behind ~

& Some of me…

I find.

Valerie Hayes

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2018). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

If Sown As A Plant ~ What Would I Be?

If sown as a plant ~

A thistle I’d be –

Or the barb on the stem,

Of the prickly rose tree.

I would needle and defend,

With the tip of each end –

& No one would know it was me!

With flowers for friends ~

Only artists can paint,

A picture with words –

& Give them some space.

Yet the thorn on the plant, 

Will never get praise –

Whatever its’ stance.

O’press a spiny weed

 & The task to ask ~

Is ~ Who spikes

 The pointed seeds?

Valerie Hayes

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2018). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Thankful For Old Friends

 

Thankful For Old Friends

Old friends who are growing frail and tired –

If we are wise, we will esteem them higher.

For experience and wisdom knows no bounds –

And among old friends is abundantly found.

 

Treasures have often been tossed away,

Because they don’t fit with the present day.

Now we see the value in many old things –

Like artifacts, gems, antiques and rings.

 

But we race around in these busy times,

Chasing the elusive ~ the ladders we climb.

While our older helpmates quietly sit –

Patiently waiting – hoping for a visit.

 

If we forget about them, what a tragic mistake,

Old friends are precious for everyone’s sake.

A nation’s history and culture take stock…

Lest she become lost – amidst the tick of the clock.

Valerie Hayes

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2017). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

For Reflection

 

For Reflection

Foliage responds when nature talks

But weakest is the central stalk –

Wavering wildly ~ “The Thinking Reed”

Subjects nature to its greed.

 

Brambles & briars – bushes & thorns –

Gouge the flesh of pride and scorn.

They weave together close to the ground –

Whispers among them make no sound.

 

Flowers rejoice – lift faces to the sun,

Pulse out energy – bursts joy from each one.

Trees in the forest make great requests ~

Call for the clouds & their needs are confessed.

 

Harmony is balance – hearing each other,

In hundreds of years – this we discover,

That frail and feeble is our tact –

& Rapid change to what we know as fact.

Valerie Hayes

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2017). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Inside Passage Legendary Map Theme Poem ~ About Grief & Hope

 

Music reaches the wandering herd,

Timeless tunes of twittering birds ~

Fallen and fractured – Swallows sleep

Wind O’less waves churn dark and deep.

Feathers find warmth – Still silence hopes

Sunlight shimmers upon scattered notes ~

Through all history one promise remains —

Birds sing a new song ~

After it rains.

Valerie Hayes

 

Sky So Blue

Like me – The sky is so blue ~

Then the setting sun – With a purplish hue;

Bruises & bleeds – Clear across the skies ~

‘Til absorbed by the darkness – & Shadows our lives…

Valerie Hayes

1992

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2017). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A Poem Finding Flowers ~ With A Festoon Of Flowers In Bloom

 

Finding Flowers

When I was a child ~ I mistakenly thought…

A weed was a flower ~ Until I was taught —

Then I grew up & found out wrong;

Some weeds are flowers ~

Grown wild and strong.

Valerie Hayes

 

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Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2016). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A Poem ~ The Thaw Of Spirit Lake & The Face Of The Trail

My favorite trail on Haida Gwaii is Spirit Lake Trail, and is located in Skidegate. True to its name, it is a dreamy, undulating and inspirational loop through the trees, around the wilderness shoreline of a beautiful lake. There is a sense of privacy and privilege, in feeling so fully integrated with the forest. Big eagles perch on dead and broken trees jutting out of the lake, just feet from the trail. Moss and mist drape over sections, and then suddenly there is a brilliant contrast of azure blue. For just a few weeks in the winter, majestic white swans will often migrate through and spend some time (gliding by), adding to the picturesque beauty of the trail and lake. They make a variety of strange sounds, like grunting and hissing. Apparently they mate for life, through mutual bill dipping and head to head posturing. The males are called cobs. The females are pens, and the young are cygnets.

During the time I lived on Haida Gwaii, I walked it nearly every day, and will always remember it as a highlight of living in such a beautiful place. Each time I trekked around it – it was different, with some new and delightful lighting, or an unexpected scene around the next bend. Occasionally, there were huge black bears near the trail, with thick, luxurious coats that added to their size. Haida Gwaii is home to the largest black bear in the world. They were in my yard more often than I saw them on the trail. They were never aggressive, and for the most part, remained shy and aloof – demonstrating they can run shockingly fast.

Curiously, although there have been black bear and grizzly bear maulings throughout the rest of the British Columbian wilderness, there has never been a serious bear mauling on Haida Gwaii. There is no documentation, memories among those who grew up there, or even in Haida Gwaii storytelling and folklore – that describes a bear attack on Haida Gwaii. The main “bears becoming an issue” is about a resident (many years ago) who was feeding, attracting and habituating bears to be his friends and companions. He lived with his mother who was frail and elderly. In addition, they lived right on main street where children had to pass by on their way to school, so it was a problem. The imbalanced resident and bear lover, when under pressure to stop it – ended up shooting the bears and then himself.

The climate on Haida Gwaii is similar to Vancouver, with most winter storms being more wind and rain, as opposed to snow and ice. The poem called The Thaw of Spirit Lake was written during a period of time in the winter when the lake was frozen.

Later in the spring on another walk, I stopped and snapped a picture of the face in the trail, without even fully realizing it, until I saw what looked sort of like a porcelain dolls head in the thumbnails of the photos. The camera I was carrying at the time, was just a small, very old 4 mega pixel point and shoot. When I saw the picture of the face, I was surprised to see I got the whole face in the picture. The face in Spirit Lake Trail goes with the poem. I felt awed and delighted to be out there enough to capture them both!

The Thaw of Spirit Lake

The lake is like milk – To nourish the tenseness

Like the soft rush of silk – Slides over the senses

And threatens to thaw our daily defenses.

While frozen reflections

Skim past expressions.

For what lies beneath, no one can see ~

Cannot be dredged or warmed a degree…

Until winter releases & shows the first cracks,

On a face that it teases ~

Until spring makes it laugh.

Valerie J. Hayes

snap shot of a face in Spirit Lake Trail

The Face in Spirit Lake Trail In Skidegate on Haida Gwaii

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2016). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Hourglass ~ Fashion Is Figurative

The Hourglass

The Hourglass Figure ~

So hotly admired;

 The “Our” need-les through –

The heart of desire,

Holds all that she dreams…

As thread from her gown,

Came apart at the seams –

She could not have known;

What she needed to mend,

‘Til she went back again –

In her search for the end ~

& The good she could find.

It was then she was shown —

How the darkest of skies –

Has put stars in her eyes ~

As she rides in that chariot,

Called the “Passage of Time”.

Valerie Hayes

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2015). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Poet-Pourri ~ Words Like Petals Form a Poem ~ To Become The Rhyming Riddle On The Map

This Inside Passage Legendary Map poem was written as a “rhyming riddle” to enhance the lyric voice on the map. It is placed in two line segments in the cameos around the border of the Inside Passage Legendary Map. One of the extra detailed features of the map – is to be able to figure out the order of the verse in the border of the map.

Poet-Pourri

Words like petals – Form a poem;
Flower blooms – Then bows her head.

Sheds thoughts upon the ground ~
Moss – Prepared – Has made a bed

Poetic petals flutter down.
Depart from proud, stately stems

‘Til Nature has them land
Bathed in dew – Just humble gems.

Nature inspires deep respect,
Sweet pot-pourri recants…

Woods are made fresher yet ~
For the poet-pourri – Enchants.

Valerie J. Hayes

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Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2015). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A Poem Called Fallen Nature

 

Fallen Nature

Calm and quiet as a devoted monk,

Bows strong and steady from his trunk.

For a century or more he stood –

And cast strange shadows in the woods.

 

Age and loyalty – Twist and hide,

Invaluable rings he wore inside.

Arthritis creeped into every fold –

Kind moss cloaked him from the cold.

 

Pray for fruit on each gnarled limb

Until the dawn of day deluded him.

He goes unnoticed…

Its been so long

That when he’s gone

Sad mist surrounds ~

Drips dew drops down…

On the tombstone stump –

Deep in the ground.

Valerie Hayes

 

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2014). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

Fashion Metaphor ~ A Poem Called Silk & Ruin

Silk & Ruin

Silk & Ruin 

Runs so Fast ~

Always Cruisin’

Snags the Past —

Goes Unnoticed

By the Masses…

As Fine Conjecture

Slips About ~

And in Reverse —

It Wears me Out!

Valerie Hayes

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2014). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Ladies Wear Many Hats ~ An Inside Passage Poem

Inside Passage Legendary Map By Quiet West Publishing

Ladies Wear Many Hats

Ladies wear many hats ~

We put the lady on the map,

To illuminate despair –

To journey where we dare;

To follow rivers to wilderness,

To fly and then return to nest.

To soften contours of the stone –

And pave the road with poems.

Valerie J. Hayes

Early 1900's With Real Bird

Early 1900’s with Real Bird. This Practice was Banned in 1909

1960’s Velvet Rose Hat

1940's Black & White

1940’s White on Black

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1950’s Scarlet Glamour

Carved Mother Of Pearl In Natural Sun Lit Colours

Copyright Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage (2014). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Valerie J. Hayes and Quiet West Vintage with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.