A Lighter Take On Swine Flu Pandemonium
I know it’s serious, and I pray no one else dies from this, but I can’t help making fun of the pandemonium and media frenzy that has taken place around the world; the pandemonium taking place today in my province, as people line up for six hours or more, people with chronic illnesses, with their babies and toddlers, standing in the freezing cold, hacking and coughing on each other, waiting to get this vaccine. There’s got to be a better way.
On Swine Flu
I’m standing in line,
and I’ve got a gun.
Gimme that shot for H1N1.
Roses are red, violets are blue.
Let’s make love; not swine flu.
And for your holiday cards:
Kiss me, Santa Baby,
but don’t use tongue.
Let’s not spread H1N1.
Discipline
“Don’t hit your brother.”
“Don’t fight!”
“We don’t hurt people. It’s not nice.”
On the playground, at the grocery store,
on children’s TV shows;
out of our grown-up mouths.
Hear it, believe it, repeat it.
“Don’t fight.” “Don’t hit.”
Drill it into their moldable minds
like an annoying Internet ad,
always in the background.
Be effective parents.
Be consistent; be real.
Teach them about non-violence,
sharing, honesty—
Life’s greatest lessons.
And when you find your youngest
colouring the National Post in purple,
his innocent fingers tracing the truth:
Fighting in the Gaza Leaves 18 Dead;
Pudgy, Band Aid-patched legs
barely covering gruesome photos of
“necessary hits” on families like yours,
hits justified by fear, by greed—
by nothing at all,
Don’t see it, don’t believe it,
Don’t bother to explain it.
Only now learning to read,
he’ll flash an oblivious smile,
his crayons erasing the dead.

'At War' by Heather Grace Stewart
Responsibilities, Rewards
floppy head to hold oh so gently,
tiny fingernails to cut;
whispered breaths to check on in your sleep,
chubby rolls of baby skin to clean, dry,
dress in warm sleepers;
diaper rash to prevent,
cradle cap to clear up,
little rosebud lips to keep satisfied.
But when that mouth finally forms a smile,
the world stops spinning on its axis,
and all I can hear is the sweet song
that is your laughter.

'Pure' by Heather Grace Stewart
Spring walk
purple crocus buds
rise from their
winter beds;
spotted ladybugs
dance upon
our window panes;
one small hand
holds my hand;
holds my heart.

Spring awakening by Heather Grace Stewart
Closer
There are no ordinary days.
Yes, coffee so often gets cold
before you drink it,
work gets trite and tedious,
traffic jams in the same place every day,
love and family fall into routine—
But look a little closer
in that rear view mirror:
There, in that car behind you.
That young girl, her face aglow;
She’s on her way to the hospital
waiting to get her cochlear implants—
waiting to hear birds sing,
a running stream,
her mother’s voice.
Or there,
in that long lineup at the grocery store.
See that woman in the tattered grey coat?
She’ll only be able to buy the milk.
Everything else will be put back
and she will walk out in shame;
her three hungry children
tagging along behind her.
Look there, at that big, beautiful home
with the blue shutters.
He’s just left her and their children.
Moved away; told her in a text message.
She’s feigning an “Everything’s Great” grin
for acquaintances on the street,
but inside, she’s broken.
How can he erase them
so easily, without emotion?
Erased like chalk-drawn hearts,
not the tiny, beating hearts
they once lulled to sleep.
Look again.
Objects in that mirror
are closer than they appear.
There are no ordinary days.
Not for you, not for me,
not for our angels.

'The Empty Bowl', taken on an "ordinary" day in Paris. HG Stewart.
Holiday Checklist
This Christmas, I am telling
my inner Super Mom to
leave the building.
In the pre-Christmas chaos
I will remember to breathe
while juggling the buying
flying shopping shipping
put-it-on-plastic
happy hoopla
pot luck and good luck
trying to squeeze into
last year’s
little black dress.
Multi-tasking to the point
of burn out will no longer
be my middle name.
I will not apologize
or feel inferior
if the cards are late or
the presents aren’t perfectly
gift-wrapped or
the kids look like baboons
in the family photo.
This Christmas
I won’t trip over my words
when I start to say Merry Christmas
to someone celebrating Hannukah.
Screw political correctness, this year
I will remember what’s truly important:
opening a door for a senior
giving food and clothes to the homeless
teaching the children it’s not all
about that guy in the red suit.
This Christmas
I will put on John and Yoko’s
Happy Christmas (War Is Over)—
And listen.
No. Really, truly listen.
Another year over
And what have I done?
And so happy Christmas,
for black and for white,
for the yellow and red ones,
Let’s stop all the fight.
This Christmas
I will be still
between the turkey
and the silly paper hats
between the wine
and the goodnight kisses
I will find my true North star,
make a wish for the world and
count my blessings,
every one.
Poem and photograph
copyright 2008 Heather Grace Stewart, Where the Butterflies Go
http://www.hgrace.com
If you’d like to read more poems like this, please check out my poetry collection at
http://www.lulu.com/content/1506907
or email/ message me if you’re interested in signed copies.
-
Archives
- December 2009 (1)
- November 2009 (2)
- October 2009 (5)
- September 2009 (2)
- August 2009 (2)
- June 2009 (3)
- May 2009 (1)
- April 2009 (4)
- March 2009 (3)
- February 2009 (2)
- January 2009 (3)
- December 2008 (1)
-
Categories
- Aaron Sorkin on Facebook
- Beautiful Chaos
- Canadian Election
- Children
- Christmas and charity
- Coping
- Easter poems
- Elections
- Faith
- Family
- Family life
- Friendship
- Grace Educational Trust School
- Heroes
- Hope
- Kids
- Life and Death
- Life's challenges
- Love
- Marriage
- Modern Villanelles
- Motherhood
- Obama on Twitter
- Online penpals
- Online Relationships
- Parenthood
- Parenting
- Poem about parenthood
- Poems about 9/11
- Poems about Change
- Poems about Facebook
- Poems about Fathers and Daughters
- Poems about Freedom
- Poems about Hope
- Poems about International Politics
- Poems about Life and Death
- Poems about loss
- Poems about marriage
- Poems about motherhood
- Poems about parenthood
- Poems about partners
- Poems about peace
- poems about relationships
- Poems about separation
- poems about social networking
- Poems about technology
- Poems about Terrorism
- Poems about Twitter
- Poems about war
- Poems on making a difference
- Poems that rhyme
- Poetry
- Politics
- Relationships
- remembrance
- Seasons
- Social Networking
- Stay at home mothers
- Stories about Parenthood
- Summertime
- Supermom
- Swine Flu
- The things kids say
- Thoughts
- Toddlers
- U.S. politics
- Uncategorized
- Unicef Gifts of Education
- Voting
- Work at home mothers
- Work-at-home parents
- Writing
-
RSS
Entries RSS
Comments RSS


