Local Talent

Art

Poetry

Brutal Reflections

Standing on the horizon,

What’s that?  Too big, too ugly and just too much.

You can’t be indifferent to such,

Buildings?

Some seem only like shapes,

Having no function or use,

There only, to incite,

Peoples abuse.

But one can’t be unmoved,

By such buildings of Utopian scope,

Built with true knowledge,

Of a modern, post-war revitalized hope.

Officialdom loved them,

For their egalitarian message,

Striking, grey and massive,

They spoke of governments not passive.

Hated and reviled the whole world over,

For a time, no judgment was sober,

But, now gaining in public acclaim,

They are no longer seen as an architectural shame.

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- Wendy McBain (July 2020) 

That Singular Tree

Every year one comes anew

To light the festive nights.

Bravely it shines in dark and wind

Showing its Christmas lights.

Standing tall for that special day

That comes but once a year.

This little tree can be seen near and far,

Glowing with holiday cheer.

Then every year it’s taken away,

Its duties all performed.

To be replaced, yet again, next year,

By a tree similarly adorned.

The duty repeats for each gay little tree,

Chosen to stand on guard.

Filling each heart with thoughts of why,

It’s put up in this yard.

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- Wendy McBain (June 2020)       

THE KITE

Twirling, swirling way up high
The little kite reaches further and further
Touches the clouds and kisses them good-bye

Down he dives like a Kamikaze
Breakneck speed towards the ground
Wind swooshing over his wings
How he hates the dark closet
Full of smelly shoes

This is where he belongs and he can’t loose
When he does what he does best
Twirling, swirling way up high

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- Wendy McBain (June 2020)