Category Archives: Sonnet

When A Southwest Wind Stirs Magnolia Petals

So. We never did walk together in A cool May’s sweet and inky scent Whispering from white blossoms And now under Iowa soil you have Neither voice nor thought. You have no Knowledge of how spring pulls all This colour … Continue reading

Posted in Art, Art is lies, John MacKenzie, John MacKenzie Poetry, Magnolias, Memory, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Sonnet, Spring, The Brain, The Wind | Leave a comment

All My Dead Gather

I know all my dead gather on these spring days Under the ground, unreasoning, Their restlessness a writhe of slow-waking worms Aerating the newly-thawed earth. All my dead gather under the crocuses, Twist among the magnolia’s roots; They make the … Continue reading

Posted in Art, Art is lies, Death, John MacKenzie, John MacKenzie Poetry, Memory, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Sonnet, Spring, The Earth | Leave a comment

Consider That I Am Mistaken

I’m sure there is someone I almost remember Who may have once told me they’d never forget The blue of my eyes in mid-winter sunlight When the geese were long gone and the gulls alone Might be heard over the … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Consciousness, Gulls, John MacKenzie, John MacKenzie Poetry, Lindens, Memory, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Sonnet, The Sea, The Sky, The Wind, Wild Geese | Leave a comment

Looking Towards the Gulf at Evening

The wind is from the northeast this early Evening and not as sharp as it often is, Having worn out for now its cold Chisels of water and sand sculpting All day, as it has every day For millennia, the … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Geology, John MacKenzie, John MacKenzie Poetry, New poems, North Shore, Poem tweets, Poetry, Rodin, Science, Sonnet, The Earth, The Sea, The Wind, Tide, Time | Leave a comment

As It Ever Was

As children and as teenagers It was brother Robert could take Everything apart. Was also The one able to put it all Back together. Or, if needed, Make something new and workable From the pieces. Head bent, molars Grinding slow, you … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Autobiographical, Cliches, Consciousness, Cryptomnesia, Epistemology, John MacKenzie, John MacKenzie Poetry, Memory, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Sonnet, South Shore, The Brain, Time, Tropes | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Until I Swept

I went looking for another Poem for you. I searched everywhere: In the tang of marshes open To the sea; in the billowing Clouds spread across a winter sky; In the neck of a blue heron, Curved, questioning water. I … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Blue Heron, John MacKenzie, John MacKenzie Poetry, Marsh, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Sonnet, The Sea, The Sky | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Pissing Contest

At the edge of the cape late in August, with thoughts of autumn and school just starting to curl about their ankles—as the first thin, dark tendrils of the incoming tide begin to lash around the rocks below— two boys … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Autumn, John MacKenzie, Mathematics, Memory, Neuroscience, New poems, Physics, Poem tweets, Poetry, Sonnet, South Shore, The Brain, The Sea, The Sky, Tide, Time | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

So Long

Today the gulls have come down out of the north wind and sit restlessly on the water in the lee of the city. Are you listening to them, their sea of melancholy voices as monotonous as the waves? Why does … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Charlottetown, Gulls, Harbour, John MacKenzie, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Sonnet, The Sea, The Sky, The Wind, Time, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Connaught Square

Who mourns these elms, diseased, inconsolate, their long, undulant limbs dropping leaves earlier each year, small disasters splitting the rough bark of lesser branches, peeling it away from the tips down, little by little, while the wood begins to silver … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Autumn, Charlottetown, Dutch elm disease, Elms, John MacKenzie, Language, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Social Commentary, Sonnet, Spring, The Rain, The Wind, Time, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Old Men In Love

Old men in love, awakening stiff In their joints and contemplating the hard Task of getting up into the day, Dream of past mornings. They remember cocked Hips and bent knees, and the pressing Engagements that rose reliably as green … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Autumn, Consciousness, Harbour, Hillsborough River, John MacKenzie, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Social Commentary, Sonnet, Spring, Summer, Tide, Time | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Where Prime Ministers and Other Pricks

I am, it turns out, a misanthrope, And, though I don’t wish you all a rope Around the neck with a lovely knot Tucked behind the ear, I’ve often thought A scaffold—black with ravens and crows, Where a white dancer … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Corporate Capitalism, Crows, John MacKenzie, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Political Commentary, Poverty, Ravens, Social Commentary, Sonnet, The Moon | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

After a Hurricane

The tide green and full in the harbour, the contrary remaining winds stipple the taut swell like skin after a shiver. More rain and lightning in the forecast; the clouds still thick and dark in the west with a chance … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Consciousness, Epistemology, Harbour, John MacKenzie, Memory, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Sonnet, Summer, The Brain, The Moon, The Rain, The Sea, The Sky, The Wind | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Thing with Feathers

A late May frost overnight and in the grey light of dawn breath hangs visible in air still and cold as autumn. From the square a block over a cacophony of crows sounds, tormenting a fox into short, harsh shrieks. … Continue reading

Posted in Art is theft, Charlottetown, Chickadees, Emily Dickinson, John MacKenzie, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Poverty, Protest poems, Social Commentary, Sonnet, Spring | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Biscuit Making

I’m home, making biscuits. The chili started this morning’s still simmering slow. Butter’s warm on the stove top. Another minute on the biscuits. They’re high and brown now. Added a little honey for a sweet burn in the mouth. The … Continue reading

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Wednesday Morning in Spring

At dawn (under the precise compass arc of the last half-round of moon, blackbirds and chickadees gather in a flutter of thin dark wings on the lagging lindens’ bare black branches of May to sing slight variations on their old songs … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Astrophysics, Charlottetown, Chickadees, Epistemology, Evolution, John MacKenzie, New poems, Physics, Poem tweets, Poetry, Red-winged blackbird, Science, Sonnet, Spring, The Moon, Urban foxes | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Wild Geese are > Me, < You

More than three months since we saw the wild geese threaded into the invisible needle of instinct pulling their long and mournful strands into divergence while calculus stitched every long wing and wingbeat precisely into place in the turbulent slipstream … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Biology, Cliches, John MacKenzie, Language, Memory, New poems, Physics, Poem tweets, Poetry, Process, Social Commentary, Sonnet, The Sky, Time, Wild Geese, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Muffled In Late December Snow

Hello again, Death. You came this year muffled in late December snow, strung yourself with pale blue lights, and waited in yards and trees, watching. We knew you were near. And we tried to prepare, to insulate. But you are … Continue reading

Posted in Biology, Chemistry, Consciousness, Death, Epistemology, Evolution, John MacKenzie, Memory, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Science, Sonnet, The Wind, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

The Old Moments (that clutter the night)

The pines are black in the dim evening; between them and the house he’s created a host of snow angels to carry away the old moments that clutter the yard. He handled them too often, those moments. Even touched with … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Consciousness, John MacKenzie, Memory, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Sonnet, The Brain, The Moon, Time, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

untitled ([broken] poems from old notebooks, February 2002)

Forgive me, love, if my words are hard. They are hard because they come hard, Dug from the hidden places, the dark spaces, Where I’ve kept every savoured shard Of desire, hope, and truth in stasis. Forgive me, love, if … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, John MacKenzie, Poem tweets, Poems from old notebooks, Poetry, Sonnet, [Broken] poems from old notebooks | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Bernini’s Ecstatic Teresa (Under the Wing of Dürer)

My art education is spotty at best. Marie Fox introduced me to Bernini and Dürer a few years ago and I was entranced by the work of both. She reminded me last week of the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, and asked … Continue reading

Posted in Albrecht Dürer, Art, Art is lies, Art is theft, Gian Lorenzo Bernini, John MacKenzie, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Sonnet, The Moon, The Wind | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment