By Shirley Segev
© Shirley Segev
Permission is given hereby to all who want to use these poems personally for their enjoyment and/or share them freely with others: verbally, in writing, online, or otherwise, by copying them without making any changes, and as long as they do not receive any payment in return.
Contact: shirley.segev@sympatico.ca
My trick is to squeeze it
into three succinct points
I draw a triangle
in my mind and
write a point on each,
my shorthand, she said.
I'm O.K. with four points,
a square lets me draw
lines across, he said.
They can use five
points of reference easily,
the assistant coach whispered
aside.
Seven's the lucky number
for me, I heard then from
somewhere,
it lets you flesh it out real well.
What about two,
or one,
can I stick to that,
my secret limit,
I think.
When I came to this country
I thought its vast spaces
Is what inspired tolerance,
like a cozy big country house
that has enough nooks and
crannies for all,
and I thought that its crisp
cold
brought level headedness,
and its beauty warmed
people's hearts.
But it was not so,
long ago, but not so long,
when those who came
to this land
did not care
to share,
what a sad song.
This new house they're building
already shows promise,
big windows, large entrance,
old trees, no high fences,
it's patient and solid,
embracing its living,
the garden is waiting
for kids' happy laughter,
I wish it good luck
and a dog to look after.