Warren Milne
Artist and Inventor
warrenm2727@gmail.com
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Algonquin 2016
A year gone by,
first night alone,
dust of city falls away,
deep silence over all.
End day of portage and canoe,
dive naked off a perfect rock,
flight to the surface in delight,
a child reborn.
Late day, warm sun settles over all,
and still of eve,
beauty of the world before man,
peace grows inside of me.
evening of the third day,
mind drifts in endless time,
memories weave with present here,
sans care and sans desire.
School of small fish,
chasing in the morning sun,
family of loons calling,
skittering over water in happy flight.
Small perfect raspberries,
in little patches along the path,
a few blueberries,
so few, so sweet.
The calm quiet of early morn,
lake mirrors shore back at me,
solitary loon floats softly by,
and nods hello to day.
Beaver lodges dot the shore,
moose flapping her ears
mist off the water at morn,
and over all, the bugs.
Sidelong glimpse of death’s hyena,
following on my trail,
not now, my friend,
my day’s still long.
Kindly soul left a joint here,
so up I go,
majestic day on Lake La Muir
full sun and southwest view,
Small fish nibble at my feet,
in sunlit shallow,
gaze over kingdom where I stand,
this is how the world began.
Second last day here,
feeling sweet and tired,
my wild harvest rich this year,
ready to return to daily home.
Lie naked on the forest floor
look up at blue through trees of green,
summer breeze wash over me,
no thought but this, it is good.
The miracle of nature in these lands,
grasses, trees, and living things,
sprung to glorious life in summer,
to die each winter ‘til spring returns.
W. Milne
August 2016
Medic Arts
Medic Arts
Medic Arts at Bloor, St. George
art deco, world gone by
‘septic smells, long halls, closed doors
let’s give this one more try.
Day of our, first meeting comes
sit ‘cross a table so
a few remarks to get us going
and words begin to flow.
Listens first with quiet intent
then slowly, eyelids close
my words fall off, what have I done
not how this s’posed to go.
To my relief, comes back to life
and turns again to me
an engineer, you’ll understand
you’re running rough, you see.
Okay, I say, let’s try the meds
let’s see where this thing goes
been on a couch for ten years now
what have I got to lose.
You’d think it would be easy now
but that’s not how it is
to find the sweet-spot drug and dose
takes months of hit and miss.
A year goes by, doing better now
new calm within my head
a feel of peace spread over me
anxiety mostly shed.
The feeling grows, I’m cured at last
it’s time to pull the pin
but doc he stops me, not so fast
now the real work begins.
Your engine running smoother now
your windscreen been wiped clean
you’re gonna’ have to learn to drive
this fancy new machine.
So, what’s the real work, you ask
this journey never ends
to see the world outside more clear
and trust the world within.
Yuh gotta try grow up again
be child one more time
put down your armour and your mask
let you and world re-rhyme.
So what’cha gotta have for this?
this gonna be real hard
someone to care and feel for you
with science and with art.
Who sees you just the way you are
in good times and in pain
the slips, the falls, the sliding back
and help you up again.
This time round is different though
you ain’t just simply child
still gotta live in adult world
keep going all the while.
Another thing is happening too
if things is going your way
you join as travellers on the road
dark night and bright of day.
And, course the journey not all hard
there’s laughs and humor too
you share your stories from the past
and those that rise anew.
The doggies with us, early morn
they greet me at the door
with wagging tails and shinebright eyes
then settle down to snore.
The years go by, week at a time
an inner peace keeps growing
the fear this all be tak’n away
gives way to life affirming.
At home with loved ones, on the street
there’s good things happening too
new ways to feel and care and love
give back what’s come to you.
This journey gonna end some day
we both be getting on
but I’ve been blessed to overflow
to have you for so long.
W. Milne
Dec 2016
Lucas
LUCAS
child of light,
come forth on christmas morn
the throes of birth now o’er
calm, asleep, lost in dream
tired, joyful mother
father not understanding yet
the earth has moved.
child arrives
to Yuletide feast
hush is in the room
babe held in wonder
passed from hand to hand
no name to call him yet
so small, so perfect
improbably dressed
soft pink skin
sweet newborn smell
blue eyes
tiny fingers
wisps of red blonde hair
first days and weeks
child aglow with life
movement comes
eyes open
to see the world around
a smile appears
he learns his mother’s voice
his father’s caring arms
dog’s wet-kiss tongue
and countless loving hands
whole family
welcomes the new child
rise above itself
sees now a future beyond
so many lives betouched
another generation begins.
W. Milne
February 2016
Nature
Georgian Bay
Summer Calls
Summer calls, come now with me
To place of dream and reverie
Where nature, wind and sunshine dance
with stars and night and soft romance
Rustic cabin in the woods
Where as a child I came
A place to shelter, eat and sleep
And find myself again
Red squirrels frolic in the trees
Dragon flies ride on the breeze
Blue Jays laugh in raucous call
Cicadas sing song, rise and fall
Grassy clearing in the trees
Fire burning in the night
Where golden children laugh and sing
With innocent delight
Down winding path from cabin door
Past juniper and pine
Toward the lake I make my way
Through scent of summertime
Blue world of light and endless space
Where water, sand and sky embrace
Soft clouds lazy on the breeze
Waves dance and sparkle on the seas
Gay umbrellas down the way
Happy children splash and play
Mothers waiting, watchful stand
Lovers walking hand in hand
When darkness falls, the world grows still
And dancing stars the night sky fill
Now I, am left alone to be
Silent before heaven’s mystery
And in this place of summer past
For those who feeling see
Loved ones who once summered here
Still walk among the trees
Algonquin 2015
Warren Milne
August 2015
Sweet languid afternoon
Waves murmur ‘gainst rocky shore
Soft zephyr cools the heat of day
As gentle night begins to fall.
Black velvet sky
Dance of myriad shimmering stars
deep quiet of nature, all around
save for haunting call of loon.
Daylight wakens cloudy morn
This Adam rise to gaze anew
At verdant nature, blue lake and sky
give thought to plan of coming day.
A day of travel, just memory now
paddle easy, wind behind
portage hot and heavy climb
now rest, worn body and numb mind.
Make way ‘neath canopy of trees
Lush green of forest floor
Step careful down on root and rock
Path worn by course of countless feet.
Canoe glide quiet over waves
Breeze blows where’er it will
Paddle pushing ever on
And steering so to keep the way.
World of green, where silent firs
drink air and water, sunlight in
look silent on at pass of time
at peace with deep eternity.
My head is light, I’m feeling weak
lie down awhile, find strength anew
strip off wet clothes, cool rest in swamp
last push to end of weary day.
A day too long
of trial and doubt
faint, hot and weak
sweet place of rest.
Beloved Albert
stayed with my steps
lies down with me
as now with cramping hands I write.
Dawn breaks, cloud and warm
my body rise to meet the day
eat early, careful start to move
go slow, let gentle life restore.
Sweet end of day
long portage in the pouring rain
a time of test, past yesterday’s distress
paddle on through rain to quiet rest.
Blue sky and sun break through
and freshen breeze
to raise my spirits
lift my heart anew.
The clouds are back, light rain too
its colder now, a touch of fall
no appetite, a little sick
turn now to start my journey home.
No strength to write
tired to the bone
where is my native joy
just wanting to be home.
The sun comes up
a glorious day
cool still air
and quiet of dawn.
Prosciutto and melon
olive oil and bread
olives and antipasto
a creature of my hunger.
Last day arrives
long day of portage and canoe
sun beating down
but safely home.
End.
Algonquin Park Summer 2015
Warren
A QUIET MAN
A quiet man, still tall and strong
With aging grace, he walks along
The road of life that urge him on
To love and feel, ’til breath is gone.
A rugged face, blue searching eyes
Betray his inner anxious side
Unruly hair, still mostly sand
A ready smile and kindly hand.
Simple comfort in his dress
But stylish in his casualness
Presents a well-groomed healthy air
The scent of Guerlain vetiver.
Mind built up o’er many years
Of school and work and artist’ tears
Gives him a sure and grounded sense
Of power and easy confidence.
But there’s a darker side to this
Of drugs and blackness’ deep abyss
Of unloved child in quiet pain
And struggle to the light regain.
With love and pride a family raised
Adults now, going their own ways
A home, a place of quiet rest
And gentle friends with whom he’s blessed.
And deeper loves, sweet bye and bye
Bright comets in the deep night sky
Sing joy for all the world to see
In vastness’ time sweet ecstasy.
Such is the man you see walk on
Down his road to Babylon
A quiet faith in life he holds
It carries him as he grows old.
Homer
My grandparents, Muriel and Homer Brown, were Christian missionaries, in China. This moving letter was written by Muriel, just after the death of her almost 3 year-old son, Homer.
Chungking China Apr 24th, 1934
My Dear Isabel:-
About noon to-day, Homer slipped quietly away from us, just yesterday our hopes were strong. For over a month he made such a gallant fight and the doctors gave him such splendid service, but the infection was too strong. So quietly he left us, so peaceful he looks in his white silk casket with pink roses at his feet that we cannot think of death as some arch enemy…. God’s messenger sent to take back to him the treasure he had loaned us for nearly three years.
What a treasure he was,, and how I give thanks with my whole Being that we did so thoroughly appreciate and enjoy him while we had him. how little we realized is was for so short a time. He was so intensely alive so filled with the joy of living, so radiant so abounding in energy and love that just to think of him even to-day, saves one from grieving,. We cannot but weep and the tears will often fall during the coming weeks and months, but there will be no bitterness in them.
Concerned in the great joy of your return to us, borne during such months of happiness, — and the wonder of that night I first held him in my arms, and looked into your faces, as you stood about the bed to welcome him, How I love the picture of you three sisters, with dear father holding the light and looking with such love upon us all. Then such a healthy babyhood.
I an sorry you missed this year with him. But of this I am sure. Many a man has lived to a ripe old age, and given less joy than Homer in his short life. He has radiated friendliness and put life and interest into many a drab life, almost daily.. For this and thy mercies we thank Thee, O Lord.
Reincarnation sometimes makes quite an appeal. I like to think of the little fellow starting out again soon, and shedding joy to others as he did to us.
We had a very nice service this morning at eleven. Then the little white silk covered casket was wrapped in an oil sheet and father, Mr. Jones and Mr. McCurdy took what was left of the little dear for his last ride.
It has pleased us much to think of this last ride being with the man who gave him so very many bi bi rides. Mr. Mitchel was always so nice with him, and was so good about making the arrangements for taking him to-day. He flew right by the agency and waved a farewell for the little lad.
The tears are going to flow all too easily, for a time I fear but I can’t feel God minds that a bit, you will shed yours also and then like us will square your shoulders as you adjust them to a little bigger load, that the world may continue to be better because of that little life that shed so much joy these nearly three years.
Be good to Julia.
lovingly so lovingly
Mother
Breakfast Smoothie Recipe
Plain Yogurt
Raspberries, Blackberries or Blueberries
Red Grapes
Banana
Ginger piece
Kale Steamed
Hemp Hearts
Milled Flax Seeds
Orange Juice
Combine in a blender, and enjoy!!!