Showing posts with label Nancy's Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nancy's Poetry. Show all posts

Monday, 22 September 2014

Celebrating the art of matching words to images with a Montreal Rose

  by Nancy Snipper


Beyond the Dream: epic solitude – Nancy’s collection of poetry and short stories. 

Sometimes, it takes only a second for Lady Luck to slip into your life. No matter how much an artist of any kind tries to prepare, plan and push – even seek recognition, all too often, events and the stars seem to conspire against them.
My lucky day happened at the Montreal Arts Centre where many visual artists rent space for their own studio. On one floor you can find up to ten artists working, including several from Montreal. One of my friends, the great painter and craft genius, Roxanna Kibsey has her studio there. The day I arrived  at the gallery, Roxanna was taking care of things at the front desk. I had arranged to visit her and see what new wonderful work she was doing - the tiny doll houses she was decorating and the class she was preparing to give. While sitting with her, in walked a lady who said just a few words to Roxanna, and then she instantly left. I managed to find out she was a painter who lives in Montreal and got her phone number. I asked Rose to come over. I wanted to see her paintings and perhaps interview her at a later time. She came over a few days later to show me some of her artwork. What I saw left me dumbstruck. Here was an artist who seemed to speak my soul. As a writer, I use words to paint pictures – to create characters and reveal scenes that hopefully resonate with the reader. Rose’s paintings seemed to speak my inner soul. I was able to match over 85% of my poems with her images after examining all her work on the Internet. This perfect pairing of poem per painting was uncanny.  I had wanted for a long time to put my poems in a collection, but now a more elaborate vision entered my imagination. Why not create a book of poetry and art? I asked Rose if she would like to have her art alongside some of my poems. I quickly sent her some of my work to read, and she was eager to do it. She said that my poetry was the missing puzzle to her paintings. On the spot, I decided to put out a book that featured the union of my poems with her images.  Our collaboration was fun, and utterly satisfying. We seemed to think alike, but it was the love of the land, mutual respect along with luck mixed with out own creative drive that made this no-rules journey a rich and happy one. Our commonalities were uncanny.
Rose and I soon discovered that we both were nuts about nature; we grew up in it (I, on a lake in the Gatineau Hills, and she in a remote countryside area in New Brunswick). Both of us had the same sense of humour, were sports-loving and gentle rebels who never bought into society’s competitive edge, plus we both taught. Eight months after our initial meeting, “Beyond the Dream: epic solitude was born. Thanks to the superb talents of book designer, Catherine Charbonneau, this collection of my poems and short stories results in a remarkable marriage of Rose's art with my writing. This book is a quintessential creative collaboration.

To view beautiful excerpts from the book and/or order your copy of Beyond the Dream: epic solitude, contact: nansnipper@gmail.com
The book can also be purchased at: Paragraphe Bookstore (2200 McGill Ave., Montreal).


Thursday, 3 April 2014

Our Vets Have Been Voided!





by Nancy Snipper

In Canada’s fields the souls now fall
of those who risked their lives for all.
And now these vets are left behind
with other heroes of great heart and mind.
No gathering place to call their own,
All they get is to suffer alone.
Can’t be with others to share those times
Where bravery and fear were their only life-line.
To war they went, now home they die
Not by the enemy but by the Harper cry.
So cold of heart, so bleak of mind
A leader whose only care
is to kill their pride.
It’s so unfair.
Is this the way to thank them all?
Bleed them dry and take their dough
Oh Steven Harper, you reap what you sow.

“Oh Canada, our home and native land,
True patriot love”  
(in a song, but not for man!!)



 {Written in response to Canada’s closing veteran offices}
{Écrit en réponse au  fermeture des bureaux vétéran par le Canada}




Resurgence

These times are fraught with most ill favour,
a muted trumpet whose sound lies limp.
It cannot speak, its glory stopped,
chambered in a valve to rot.

Die you devils
Dark as agents,
You cannot kill our sound, our voice,
Though it be gentle, timid and humble
It is here forever
Rejoice!

Oh happy song
that shakes our heart
that stirs the tiger
and makes him start
to burn inside
to feel alive
to leap an infinite mile wide.

Terrible trumpet 
trample it down 
deep into the jaws of the ground.
Wild trumpet
burst in song.
Bubble, banter
Please bleet on!

Break the devil’s beautiful bones,
make him screech
make him moan.
Tear out your mute,
                                    No longer shy,
                                                              Cry to bleed,
                                                                                     Sigh to try!

Monday, 9 December 2013

Childish Thoughts



by Nancy Snipper

Can’t we be children all of our lives?

      To dance in the sun
                                      and ride on the sea.

 Look how I laugh with joy in my eyes!


  I’m an adult now.
  I know responsibility.
  How serious I am.
  I seldom laugh,
  But oh, how I cry.



Saturday, 16 November 2013

Put me on


by Nancy Snipper

 

Put me on a desert island

where no one else can roam,

with my piano and my books

to spend each day alone.

 

Put me on a desert island
 
where friend and foe don't go,

Pack the pillow and the pills

so I can die alone.

 

Make sure to play Ravel and Bach,

Brahms and a merry jig.

And as my life begins to fade

let everybody sing.

 

 

Tuesday, 12 November 2013

Going Away

  by Nancy Snipper
 
I've had a lot of dance lessons
My toes were put on point
My tutu in a closet now
I never liked ballet.

Piano was my forte
I played a piece of love
No dervish whirl or quiet dove
Just one that flies away.

We live alone together
Sweet feelings are our friends
We replay them as memories
 Like movies with no end.

All my plants are droopy
My eyelids are as well
Wrinkles weave into my skin
And burrow deep within.

I'll pack my heart
In rags of hope
And bid ye all goodbye
I' 11 take some books and kleenex too
Just in case I cry.

Your face I'll leave at the door And go my way alone
 For when love dies
So many times
There is nothing more.

Monday, 11 November 2013

Debris

by Nancy Snipper

 

Clear away the debris,

All away.

 

Put it in a sack.

But then

It always comes back.

 

My mind is set,

 Ready!

Start!

Go!

 

Help from beyond

Is all I know.

 

There's never any air.

 

There's only the eyes

Of a distant stare.

 

Mine will never be

Mine will never come

Mine is just a little life

Smaller than your thumb.

 

Life is

lifeless

 Love is

loveless

Friends are

friendless

And nothing is

only.