The Fraser Lake Festival of the Arts

These are some of the poems I read at the Fraser Lake Festival of the Arts!

It was a lot of fun and the part I enjoyed the most was meeting some local artists and writers. I had more than one persons confess to me that they wrote in secrecy and shared their work with only the trees. Being able to connect with other writers was like opening a doorway and that is one of the greatest reason to have festivals like these as well as conventions, workshops and retreats!
It’s easy for us to get confused and think it’s a competition but the truth is that we are each other’s biggest promoters and audiences. The people who I saw sharing the encouragement and good spirit were awe inspiring to see and the talents shown at an inaugural festival in a small community were truly awe inspiring!
Next year I’m sure I will be in better health and be able to enjoy more of it but for this year I was grateful to attend and be able to stand to speak some poetry!

Turra Lee Terra Loon
By Virginia Carraway Stark

How my souls shrieks for you
Turra lee terra loon
How my heart beats for you
Under the black new moon

I would dive to the depths
Of the murkiest marsh
And bring up the largest Minnow
All for thee and some for me

How my breath catches in my throat
Turra lee terra loon
How my pulse races for you
And the sight of your fair plumage
Under the sweet crescent of the smiling moon

I would mind the nest for you
Of our eggs I would treasure and sit
And sweeten it with fresh rushes
All for the babies of me and you

How My heart aches when I’m without you
Turra lee terra loon
How my face brightens to see you
And the feel of your arms
Rises me up to fly under the bright face of the full moonimageOld man Shanley

By Virginia Carraway Stark

Old Man Shanley
Has known me for many years
Through winds and storms
Rains and sleets
Shanley has been there
Through them with me

Old man Shanley
Reaches high into the sky
He isn’t taller than all the other trees
And I don’t even reach his knees
But he has learned to endure me
In a way that we came to be friends

His resin is bitter and sweet
Like his humours
No birds build nests in
Old man Shanley’s boughers
He isn’t that sort of tree
He’s the type who echoes and creaks

Dry William Lake
By Virginia Carraway Stark

Vagabond swans
Wander through fields
And delight
In the ponds
Where tadpoles dart
Lily pads
And cattails where
Errant loons
First plummet
Then call out
In the imminent threat
Of twilight
Paddles ripple the water
A beaver thuds a warning
And the moon orbs upward
Silver on a crush blush velvet sky
A handful of diamonds
Spread across
The darkening dusk

My Apologies
By Virginia Carraway Stark

I’m sorry, I was being lyrical
I apologized unnecessarily
For the use of poetry in
Everyday language will never be understood
Unless the words sing in your heart
No apology can make
The words make any sense
And so my apology was insensible
Pebbles trying to fill an inland sea
I’m sorry my heart sings
No, that apology isn’t me
There is no apology I can make
You’ll have to love me or walk away
We’re agreed, my words, my heart and me
That that’s what it’s going to take

Glorious nurses
Virginia Carraway Stark

Glorious nurses
With bent backs
And tall white limbs
Bend their faces over
My upturned face
Offering their fingers
As summer shade
To go with
My lemonade
And keep the sun
From glaring daggers
As I read a work of fiction
On this summer day
The honey scent of clover
So thick
It is the only elixir
That I need
And my
Glorious nurses
Towering up
Under white cotton ball clouds
And corn flower skies
And snap dragon’s nip
At hammock’s dip
This is summer
Brief, glorious and all mine

Grants director Anthony Stark with Dan Boudreau of NKDF
Grants director Anthony Stark with Dan Boudreau of NKDF



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