Tag Archives: martin durkin

Regarding Emily Carr

take a warm pull off that cigarette
hug the tree – fallen leaves – her dress on the ground
it’s the artist woman you can’t stand
but Emily, she’s speaks to me
wave of the tossed off Coca – Cola can
white streak across the red
aluminum husk along the river autumn.

where will this trip take us now?
take a another tobacco drag – look up, see
the lodge off in distance, our cabin-chimney stoking
telling us we are not lost – no, the way is home

let’s run off into the trees.
leave the ship on shore
follow the same path the artist chose –
and in the city they’ll see it too

saying, ‘from this photographs surreal painting, it’s almost as real
like being here is the same as standing there.’

and our cabin chimney is cooking heavy
supper is ready
are you hungry?
are you cold?
are you tired of the colours for one night?

i am too…..


’16 Thanks

at the Sandbanks with Niagara wine poured into local jugs
and crushed shells rolling compacted into the sand –
we stroll the October skyline staring out and over waves
strong as an ocean but without the smell of brine.
we think of umbrellas and hold hands
take a picture and watch the dog bite whitecaps
teaching time a lesson – while tail rotates in rudderless fashion
and web feet paddle for shore.
is this a staycation?
no –
it’s an awakening – taking time
recognizing the coming together of family
from across Canada
traveling thru bus stations and trains
hopping planes and leaving parts of the world
you and I dream of visiting.
put the camera down my love.
let me kiss you-
the dog can be jealous and try to knock us over.
October can remind us of Hallow Eve and All Soul’s –
it’s yours i’m after
and it’s mine you have….
this family encircled all around and waiting at a dinner table
sharing wine and memories
renewed vows – and rekindled friendship
wrapped tightly inside a temporary home
a permanent promise.

Belly Ring Coffee

the flower is at her hand
the window is reflecting a glint
– a belly ring thru morning sunlight.
she is looking out at the bridge
listening to the bath tub – fill
she stares
wondering about time.

it’s time for coffee
time for the early edition
time to slide into the porcelain bed.

the flowers continue to reach from the pot
and her hand comforts them.
her fingers click the latch
the window slides down and cuts off the Fall air.

she leaves the window
as the coffee maker clicks
faucets are turned left
and the paper slides under the door.

the flowers twist back into position
and the bridge continues with morning traffic.
a small spoon dings inside a stirring cup

a small ripple is heard.

LONG POME…….live live LIVE

I’m gong to steal a line…

‘But your finger starts to wiggle and landscapes emerge’-…

now i will try to paint some dreams
because in this drinking hall i want you to fall in love with
more than just ‘words’ – i want you to soak in the sounds of voice.

allow me to step up to the plate
lull you through imagination and not sleep
or stuttering madness


in the Bancroft horizon
the world ends
but Ontario keeps trudging along –
another 24 hours past shale rock or limestone.

In the east
people are beginning to forget about Kingston
settling back into the routine of their lives

let’s keep the huskies mushing north –
become lost in a wilderness circle
and find ourselves somehow
out west –
but how far west
before we have finally found a province
where people offer the lifestyle
we have always been searching?

In ’03 we were 2 years into our lifetime of lovemaking
i was skinny and felt young – and i wanted to paint a corridor
use an easel and project your beauty onto the movie screen.
I wanted to be a millionaire poet
in a country where Canadian rock stars
need to start with 2
just to end up
with 1

now I’m 38 and it’s almost Halloween.
We’ve entered the month of your birth.
Not from the womb
but the month where you woke
danced with Gomez Adams on the television screen


‘I need a man as romantic as John Astin’

we have taken the highway
and explored our home province to death.
Grew up and left Sugar Island –
grew up and left the triangle tip of Tyendinaga

rather than allowing our love to drift into Dimaggio watching over Marilyn –
we have forged a union unique to our skill set of friendship through trust
and from your childhood Steeltown
we have observed our commitment over 3 provincial bridges –
Burlington Skyway –
Bay bridge and Deseronto –
all of which lead us to family homes

my love – where do we go from here?
15 years is only a drop in the bucket for marriage
and in my lifetime i want to grow older than Abraham.

I don’t need to identify with
create an inaccurate nation


i would love to travel and discover what each continent has to offer.
Learn the history – rather than hide from it.

We could find Sherpa’s or better yet
giraffe wranglers
travel their earthly brown patterns down the great neck
of a broken Pangaea.
Our spirit
a wild animal
still trying to figure out who or what came first –
wondering why we are masters of nothing –
still needing only love and forgiveness to get along

returning to that stolen line –
my fingers are beginning to cramp
and the local map is worn out.

Our world from above a dark heaven
is a bumpy textual braille
speaking to us – saying there is more.

the hwy moon is shining down onto the hood of our
car – clouds are forming – ready to storm


from this stage tonight with candle lit tables –
i hope my voice in soft tones has been heard
my muddled accent
and poor efforts in pronunciation

i am a chewer of words…


right now
i am parked along a renamed
church side road –

i’m standing with you in an abandoned lot –
a family farm field no longer plowed
but inherited
where a home for our travels may never be built
but waits – for a life time of stories told

jump in the car with me
I’ll flip the high beams over
fiddle with the stereo – ‘rain on windshield heading south’

(yes another stolen line -)

you can slide in close and we’ll pretend the radio
is singing us a secret

-we’ll drive until Autumn becomes winter
find a tropical beach and write our names in the sand
disappearing into stolen songs – voiced over lyrics
letting people know back home
we are safe
but with no intentions of coming back


Blur October into November of Our December

There’s an event taking place
October of the month
-green goblins and dancing
before the November month of All Souls.
In England they celebrate Guy Fawkes
while over here we egg houses
and the church asks for us to be saints.
Let’s go instead further south
and honour the meals
walk in the streets towards our lost
love and relatives.
Better yet – let’s
go to the great patch and wait for
a pumpkin
maybe tell a story to the night of
lost corn fields and never more’s.
get out of September
plan for another December
let the malls grow from orange to green/red.
an event taking place
-ring the bells and knock all the doors
toilet paper on the count of three
full on pillow cases
tripping on
bed sheets…..

Shorty Jenkins

i dunno

get the water sprinklers going
talk to Shorty Jenkins – he’s only sleeping
and he’s my friend
even though i only met him once

he gave me a pin
and i pinned it to my chest

so let’s
i dunno…..

get his advice
borrow him from God
for just a moment

tell him that main street is closed for the wknd
and he’s got carte blanche
he’s got the opportunity
create the perfect ice surface
and from Saturday until Sunday
we’ll bring in a crowd
curl our brains out along the shores of
this tiny town

we don’t care about summer
summer doesn’t end the spending season
it doesn’t shutter up the windows
campers don’t leave
they stay

….we got Shorty

i dunno

clean up his pink hat
he’s been with the men with brooms
and he knows

and from the corners of 1st and Lexington
down the middle past the renamed grocery stores
and the parking lots for school buses
we’ll curl – curl all wknd long

Hey Shorty!
(excuse me God)

I got an idea
i’m the promotional master mind
Elvis is gone and you’re on deck
From a 20 yr memory – Mitchell has apologized 800 radio – no cracking wise
this ain’t no ghost town –
it’s safe
you can come

so lets
i dunno

Shorty knows….
he told me once

‘a hockey puck doesn’t know it’s a hockey puck
but a curling rock sure does’

and this laneway will be perfect
and the rocks will crash just south of heaven here
and the Leafs will lose on tv – because they don’t know either
but everyone will be outside
watching the curlers of tomorrow
on this perfectly paved sheet of ice

so come on Shorty

* Shorty Jenkins: was a famous Canadian ice technician in the sport of curling. He was known for his “trademark” pink cowboy hat, pink leather jacket and pink cowboy boots

* Men With Brooms: Canadian movie directed by and starring Paul Gross. Jenkins had a cameo

Martin Durkin Part of a New Anthology Release with Novalis

Martin Durkin is pleased to announce he is part of a new 2016 anthology coming out later this Fall. The book is entitled PRAYERS AND DEVOTIONS for EUCHARISTIC ADORATION.

“These beautifully written and thoughtful prayers and reflections that speak to the Canadian experience will inspire your time in prayer before the Eucharist…” Novalis Publishing.

The 80 page anthology will retail at $9.95 CND. A release date will be announced shortly…..



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