Sunday, November 8, 2015

POETRY by Veronica Marjon Van Bruggen



POETRY BY VERONICA MARJON VAN BRUGGEN 

See those kids ditching school?
See her fingers in his hair?
See how they kiss in front
of the whole adult world while
he kneads her ass with pride?
I am a voyeur, envy, condemn and applaud.

Look how proud they are of each other
as they resume their walk,
love tinting the air around them
a big red heart.
Pulsating, private, excluding.

Poetry

She wrecks her life getting
pregnant that day.
I humble away, not judging.
She aborts ---- her father insists
to dump the guy; he finds another.
She marries a cop who beats her
and punches three kids into her
before she is twenty.

Poetry, even so.

two poems on Alzheimer by Veronica Marjon Van Bruggen

Veronica Marjon Van Bruggen shared two original poems on Alzheimer.  If you are a publisher or an agent please contact her through Facebook.  She is a wonderful artist.  

"I thought I´d share two poems with you (I have eight) about caring for Alzheimer papients. They form part of an upcoming book with which I hope to be able to help care-givers understanding their own feelings in dealing with this desolate and difficult disease."
ALZHEIMER.
I know he knows ----
sometimes.
Nothing more to us but details now.
Besides, what´s life without
trips to the market,
the price of potatoes,
a good parking spot?
Little things matter, help in a shattered disorientated life.
Later I listen to my Il Volo disc.
Italian words move me, sung with excellence,
words are sounds, soothingly singing to me
Oh Lord, I wanted still so much more!
LOCKING – UNLOCKING
The truth with its big teeth
stared in the windows
the poisonous streetlight
that always poured in ----
I hid my face in his neck
my tears out of his eyes
we whispered: “I love you”
“I love you”
As if the ceremony of locking – unlocking
could keep out what stood at the door
the dangerous morning
the penitent kisses
the bowing in water
the drifting apart.
while my man slowly loses his mind.

Friday, November 6, 2015

TWO SUITCASES

TWO SUITCASES
By Celine Leduc edited by Norman Simon  

Two suitcases is all that is left of a life. For the Katbe family. One suitcase for the wife, the other for the husband.  They had four sons: they loved them, taught them the ways of their world, educated them, and made sure they married well.  The sons immigrated to Canada became Canadian citizens and yet have remained faithful to their country of birth and their parents.  Their sons want the best for their parents.
They are from Syria and are Christians. Syria is imploding and exploding. Civil unrest creates a very unhealthy climate that degenerates into pandemonium, into civil war that turns into a full-fledged war. Bombs explode, homes become empty shells. A bomb falls on the shell of a deserted, abandoned home - a house explodes in thousand pieces.  Whole streets turn into rubble; the man-made tornado of war circles around like a hawk looking for food. Those warmongers are hungry for power, for control. They kill the innocent, the unprotected, for a piece of land, for greed, as they are hungry for power and control so they can claim victory, plant a black flag tainted with the blood of those who died. Their victory is built on death, the death of the innocent regardless of religion or culture. Warmongers are warmongers - they worship the god of war, of destruction, the god of hell, for their bombs create hell on earth.
Two suitcases for survival linking the peaceful happy past with the traumatizing insecurity of the present and the uncertain, traumatizing future. They have to leave their home as war rages on, a civil war erupted, and a new enemy emerges making their flight an imperative. They flee war to find safety and hopefully be able find peace and join their children in Canada.  A stopover in Lebanon, a visit to the Canadian Consulate to make an application for immigration in order to become residents of the country chosen by their sons, their wives and their grandchildren.
 Family reunification is the order of the day, reunited families is on their minds.  War has caused division that ripped families apart, forced some to flee to refugee camps full of horror and fear, where intolerance is the weapon of choice and brutality becomes the reality as life rarely matters and death is the release.
At 80, the old couple think what they should bring.  What matters is legacy.  They leave behind their locked up home; and, key in hand, they say farewell, not goodbye as they are hoping to come back soon.
Two suitcases are packed carefully; two suitcases, hopefully, a short stay at a relative’s home in Lebanon. They are lucky they can avoid the danger of the camps. They have family in Lebanon, a house to stay at for an ailing father and an aching worried mother. They make their way to Lebanon, leaving their home near Aleppo for a dream of life in Canada to spend their last days with their sons.  The sons want them and work for their parent’s safety. Personal tragedy, their father is ill very ill; his dream of return is but a dream his death is a nightmare for his mom.  She is a widow, without a husband to care for her to make sure she can be protected.  She has her sons, four sons, who now are head of the family. Their duty is to do for their mother what their father can no longer do: care for her, make sure she is protected and fulfill the dream of going to Canada.  

In her nightmare, her grief, she has a dream: she can be a grandmother and a doting mother to her loving sons.  Her sons, all Canadians, have jobs, and make a pact, a promise, a pledge: their mom will not be alone. They will come stay with their mom for two months each.  Petition the Canadian government to fast-track the refugee claimant, so their loving and beloved mom can come to Canada as a resident.
The two suitcases were packed with love and are the keepers of the past, are for the present and open the door to the future.  Legacy and origins matter. You can see that past matters by the content of their suitcases. Two lives packed in the suitcases filled with papers, birth and marriage certificates and last will and testament. Photos of their wedding, their children which is the legacy of their children growing up in Syria for their grandchildren living now in Canada.  The other part is their clothes and travel items.  One person now has the two suitcases full of memory with one wish, one hope, to be reunited with family.
 We hear of men doing evil deeds. They thrive on hate, create hell for all those living on earth. Yet, there is another reality which is love, the love of a son towards his mom, and the love of a mother for her sons. War causes not only confusion, but also hate, anger, division, unrest, and even death. Families are broken: fathers are killed, mothers abused, and children see what they should not see or feel.  War can also bring about the reunification of a family - especially in Canada where we as Canadians pride ourselves because of our humanitarian principles.  We offer refuge to those who have none. There is a fear of invasion or radicalization, of unrest and uprising.  An old woman of 80 is not threat to security. She saw war, she lived through it, and she now wants a few final years to dote on her loving sons and grandchildren.
 Her sons will not forsake her as they live the commandment to "honor thy parent."   They will leave their own wives and children to go and stay with their mom in Lebanon. In those two months, the sons make sure they have enough money to care for their home in Canada, pay bills, feed their family over here. No salary coming in, living off savings. Money is not their motivation; it is family, it is life, a good life for their mother. The hope she will be there to be a doting grandmother, a mother-in-law and a mother. 
On humanitarian grounds and for the love of family, of surviving love please help this family, and fast-track their humanitarian request. Make sure that a family is reunited out of love for an older woman with two suitcases, who has four loving sons.

Video from CTV that speaks Mrs. Katbe http://montreal.ctvnews.ca/laval-man-urges-ottawa-to-fast-track-widow-mother-s-arrival-1.2594435#_gus&_gucid=&_gup=Facebook&_gsc=i1OWgjS

UPDATE: Mrs. Katbe will be coming to Canada hopefully soon by the end of the year ---  we ask that her application be fast tracked so she can be reuinited with her loving sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren.  

Sunday, October 11, 2015

New poem by Phylmarie Fëss Get well card was battered

Phylmarie Fëss updated her profile picture.
1 hrEdited
get well card
a girl was battered
sometimes by her angry mother with the father’s belt,
but because mother said to,
most often her father swung that leather strip
or his hand,
while he said,
“look at me when i talk to you.
don’t look at me like that.”
or he’d ask,
“what are you crying for? i’ll give you something to cry for,”
“don’t you feel it? i’ll make you feel it,”
then he’d hit again.
again.
and the girl hugged herself and tried not to cry too much or too little
saying in her mind, “not your fault.
remember they used to love you.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”
a young woman was declared tramp and evicted
by her landlady
when she respectfully, privately
requested that the older woman tell the elder's father
to please keep his strange words,
and his hands
off.
so the young woman walked along the treed, nighttime road
with cases and purse in arms and wept silently
while strangers stared
thinking to herself, “not your fault.
they are sick.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”
an at-home-alone daughter was raped
by a drunken neighbour
who chastised her sin,
so she reclused to her room
and watched the door,
for months.
till one evening she whispered her shame,
and her mother recradled the girl in arms and wept with her,
saying, “not your fault.
his mind is sick.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”
a ‘with-child’ woman was pounded
by a stranger who threw his jacket over her head
on a downtown street,
beaten as he shrieked, “bitch! bitch!”
and later her sister held the woman in her arms and wept with her
saying, “not your fault.
his mind is sick.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”
how many more
we belted girls?
we tormented women?
we raped daughters?
we pounded mothers?
before we all walk together
and need no longer cry, “not our fault.
it's the violence-borne society,
the violence-porne society,
the violence-torn society,
that is sick.
it’s not
our
fault.”
no more,
Creator, please.
no more,
now.
we
walk
together
now.
~ manidoonaateshing-ikwe / phylmarie
If you wish, to preserve layout, I give permission to copy and paste the whole honour song poem from title to signature line end. Thank you for passing on the message in defense of girls and women.

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Sunday, October 4, 2015

GO RED DRESS IN RED, DEMAND REDRESS. support First Nation women of Canada


WEAR RED FOR REDRESS in support for the GO RED CAMPAIGN OF FIRST NATION WOMEN by Celine Leduc edited by Norman Simon October 4 2015 
Red is associated with the heart and heart diseases. Red is also associated with blood. Go Red is a campaign that highlights and features MISSING AND MURDERED First Nation women in Canada. I have a broken heart as First Nation or indigenous women are being raped, kidnapped and too often murdered. LET US DEMAND REDRESS from our leaders.
No one cares that their blood is spilled in vain. No one seems to care that the blood of the innocent is being spilled. No one seems to care. Their lives matter. They are daughters, mothers and someone’s friend. They often leave behind families worrying, wondering, thinking, asking and now demanding answers to the ultimate question, "Will she come back?"
Few politicians have taken up this important cause. Even fewer have done anything. My heart is breaking because of the inaction on the part of elected officials. Bring back our girls falls of deaf ears. This is why I am writing this short piece to create solidarity with First Nation women and to make October 5, 2015, the day we go RED at Waking UP Woman. The date that was requested was October 4 which is a Sunday. I did make a mistake on the date, however. October 5, is a Monday. We can generate more attention as we all go out wearing RED and speaking not for, but about the MISSING AND MURDERED First Nation women and demand from political leaders to speak about their plan to help the women.
I see RED anytime I read an article in newspapers that speaks of those MISSING women and girls. I see RED when no one talks about the MISSING girls. I see RED when pleas for an inquiry fall on deaf ears as the buck is passed to the Police. I see RED when I find out that the RCMP stated in a report that over 1000 First Nation women have gone missing in the past 10 years and no one has spoken about them. We are blinded by uncaring media and we have become deaf because of uncaring reporters and journalists as we did not hear their pleas, their cries, and their voices. Some journalists do care. Canada AM on Monday October 5, 2015 will have a feature about the Missing and Murdered First Nation women.
IDLE NO MORE has had a campaign that is now being listened to. It is time for us to cast a vote. We are asked to make a choice as voting matters. Let us ask our politicians to prioritize the cause of First Nation women who have gone missing and been killed.
MISSING and MURDERED First Nation women in Canada should go viral and should have the support of every woman in the world. Because, indigenous women all around the world are missing and killed. It can be done in solidarity and empathy with the Yezidi women, the Assyrian women, the Syriac killed by violent men of IS, the Nigerian women kidnapped by Boko Haram. We can gain support from various communities: the Jewish community whose women and men were in the Holocaust, African American and Canadian women who were enslaved, the LGBT community where women have been raped or even killed.
Each and every woman regardless of her skin tone, her religion her ethnicity or origin, can relate to First Nation women and, in my opinion, should join the GO RED campaign. I add GO RED DRESS IN RED, DEMAND REDRESS.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Words and prayer of thanks plus art are by Zanuar Ez Dawud September 30 2015 It was posted on FB page Waking Up Woman

we all were kids one day . and our mothers were our gods or better way to say that the first G-d we knew was Mother .
if we can apprehend G-d its because of our Mothers . smile emoticon
when you are kid and you are hungry you cry Mom
when you are thirsty Mom
when you make dirt oh Mom
when you need hug Mom
and when you grow up you become atheist
you forget everything given before to be grown up .
Z.E.D
Architecture & Design added 8 new photos.
Creative & Fun Belly Paintings ᴷᴬ