Posts Tagged ‘poetry’



For me there is no greater honour than being recognized by one’s own writing teacher.  I have had the great honour and privilege of having two of my poems posted on my writing teacher’s website.  If you’re ever looking for fun and inspiring writing classes in various cities across Ontario, I recommend a class with Brian Henry.  If you enjoy poetry at all, you can find my two, “Life Cycles” and “In the End”, posted here on Quick Brown Fox (November 2, 2013).

May you also be recognized and brought forward into this world.



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It was a year ago, April 1, that I made the difficult decision to drop one day of work at the office and to, instead, devote that day to my writing.  The plan was very clear:  create pieces, enter them into contests and work to get them published.  I can say with pride that, but for a few days here and there, Wednesdays have become my writing days.  My loved ones have made the transition with me (Thank you so much!) and now support the time I spend locked away in my room.  While I may have “lost” a day’s pay at the office, I gained an extra teaching day and have managed to essentially fill my weekday classes; therefore, nothing, really, was lost.  After a relatively short time, I got to spend more time in my life getting paid to do what I love.  Amen.

Today another one of my pieces was rejected.  That makes for a 100% rejection rate.  One year later, not one single piece that I consciously put out into the world has been accepted by an outside source.  And still I write on.  I remember sitting with my teacher in a private session as I began the process. She was questioning how I thought I would manage any rejection of my work.  I recall saying, with absolute calm and certainty, that I would be okay.  I knew that, just because some judge in a contest did not choose my work, did not mean my work was crap.  There are all sorts of reasons for a rejection and, so long as no one was nasty to me, I would be just fine.  One year later I can honestly say that all really is well.

The whole experience has been very interesting and has provided me with a number of learning experiences.  I was approached by an online publication to submit poetry on a regular basis.  In questioning one of their policies, I discovered I was not particularly fond of their philosophy nor their style of communication.  That experience allowed me the wonderful opportunity to tell a publication that their product was not a good match for my work–I got to reject them…and it was fun.  I have also learned that the whole process of submission destroys a bit of something for me.  Adding an element of competition to my creative life gets me feeling like a crab in a bucket filled with other crabs dragging each other down as they try to reach the top. That’s not why I started doing this.  I started because I needed to, because, without feeding my relationship with the written word, I go a bit nuts and nobody likes that much.  I do it for the sheer joy of creating word-pictures, and for the challenge of taking the complex mess that’s in my head and straightening it out with words.  I do it because I love it, but the competition was killing that so, I’m glad it’s gone.  I feel no further need to compete.  I have my glorious little blog-home and, for now, that’s perfectly good enough.

If I could say something to the writers out there it would be this:  Don’t let anything get in the way of your love affair with words.  Don’t let the rejections stop you. Don’t let silence stop you. Don’t let others’ opinions stop you.  If you need to write, write.  If you love it, commit to it as you would a loving relationship.  Fight for it. Nurture it.  Romance it.  Just don’t let it go.  If you need to write, write, no matter what.  And if you need to share your voice with the world, start a blog, leave notes on public benches, slip a poem inside a book in the library, just do something.  You don’t need the outside sources to make your voice be heard.  The establishment writers once relied upon is gone.  If you need to share, self-publish, baby.  Go all the way!  😉

In honour of my one year anniversary, and of all the things I’ve learned thus far, I offer the very first poem I created back in April, 2012.

Many blessings, much love, and all the support in the world for your creative ventures,


Emergent “I”


Silent listening

            to water to wind.


stamp –presses down



skin.  I

soften outwards

— a tender pool of waves.

Wind-whisked water, warmed by sun,

nourishes the earth.


is my soul.

At the depths,

wind finds a crack and enters,  filling me

with pulse.

Dropping to open, I

ripple out

— liquid gold.

Liquid Gold by Deevona

Liquid Gold by Deevona

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In the End



Shattered woman,

leaking soul from your lips,

What does it take to get to this place?

Leaning against neglected walls

clutching your string of pearls

The ghost of your child

            is your rope of death.


Hollow woman,


            slit open

 by the searing blade of loss,

love-guts long washed away by your pressure-hose tears,

you speak to me in cold whispers about your dream—

            that a bullet in your head

            stops your heart.


the machine deep inside your chest

keeps that heart beating.

Your life


moves along.


Shadow woman,

stroking the porcelain back

of your headless child-replacement

seated beside you on the couch.

Searching through a box of eyes

so that what is sightless can see,

you are blind to the ones who still breathe.

Lifeless creations you cradle in your bosom,


while the ones still in warm flesh

stand bleeding for your love.



that once was Woman,

swinging by the vapours of

a child long gone.

What is vital,

sacrificed to memory.

Here there will be

no peace.

~ Tabitha Kot 2012

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by Tabitha Kot (2008)

Sitting innocently in my car,

weaving my way through rush hour traffic,

distracted and crunching on a tart Macintosh.

She silently, invisibly, slinks through the


of my open window.

Gliding across the breadth of my shoulders,

licking Her way up the back of my neck,

She slides seductively across my jawline,

rises up to my ear and whispers, hotly:

Your life

is your sacred space.


And She is gone.

I blink once,



My eyes open to a




She is in everything I see.

She is in everything I hear.

She is in all that I touch,

all that I taste,

all that I smell,

all that I know.

I see the jewel of the Goddess sparkling

in everything I behold.

The world becomes precious to me

in a heartbeat

with Her

in it.

I am home.

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Why have I never showcased my own creative writing in my blog?  It seems strange to have an open space dedicated to writing and expression and to remain in hiding.  So here is a poem that won Honourable Mention in The Ontario Poetry Society’s contest in 2008.

Longing II

I miss…

the north land in the summertime

rising glacial rock


like a passageway through time

the ping-scent of pine and cedar

trees lending their needles

cushioning journeys on the land

the aching cry of the loon

haunting reminder of simpler times

I long for simplicity.

the vast expanse of sky

endless, breathtaking

ever-changing portal to mysteries


the canoe

rhythmically caressing water

cradled in the Ancient Ones’ hands

leading us Home

the hungry love made on the belly of the Mother

sacred energy



The absence leaves an echo in my heart.

I am longing.

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