Just Listed

A short article about an unusual piece of real estate caught my eye, the following piece was my reaction. (Previously published @ Helium)

L’hotel Majestique

In Paris, a hotel’s for sale
With histories one can unveil
If we look to the past
We reveal quite a cast
Has been inside its doors — what a tale!

For seems it was built on the place
One Queen Isabella we’d trace
Came over from Spain
Her last days to remain
Post-abdication, with grace.

Some older Parisians can say
That a swastika flag, in their day
Flew atop at the time
Of the war; what a crime!
They’d have burned it, if they’d had their way.

And later the North Vietnamese
After drawing their famed DMZs
Came here to discuss
But, no end to the fuss
Resulted from that, “Thanks and please”.

The combatants of Cold War came too
And stayed, though presumably knew
It would not soon be over,
KGB would discover
What was said anyway, so they flew.

Then in March of 1999
An accord the Albanians did sign
Serbs were all here as well
In this grand French hotel
It was NATO that put them in line.

The curious thing seems to me
That the sellers omitted the key
Information concerning
Just what we are learning
About cette maison’s history.

Kathleen Mortensen © 2007

Catkin

This is a little poem I composed in honour of the ruler of our household– our lovely feline, Blanche. (Previously published @ Helium)

Blanche

Dane Street’s queen
Is on her throne
She much prefers it
On her own
Unless of course
You’ve come to rub
Or brush, or coo
Or offer grub
Then Blanche unleashes
All her charms
And twirls and curls
And so disarms
Whoever’s offering
The goods
That we forget,
Her many moods
The early hisses,
Swipes, and scratches
Head-butts, nips, and
Fur in patches
Bunny-hopping
Down the stairs
The spirit-cat
Of icy glares
Regurgitations
Catch off guard
And mediations
Can come hard
But would we shed
Our cat of snow?
Not for a million;
Heavens, no!

Kathleen Mortensen © 2007

The Hitcher

When a wayward skunk stowed away in a pipe in California and ended up being shipped all the way to Toronto, Ontario, naturally, I was keen to capture it in verse. This version is one I did for kids.

Dorothy’s Adventure

Not long ago as I did read
The paper with my tea
A story there about a skunk
Did truly capture me

It seems one curled up in a pipe
To have a little nap
Then woke up in our country
She could have used a map

And someone called her “Dorothy”
Like the one in the book
About the Wizard and the Witch
And the great trip she took

So sad, but no-one in our land
Would let the poor girl stay
Because she was so smelly
She had to go away.

And nobody would take her
On either plane or bus
Until a deejay in the States
Said “Really, what’s the fuss”?

So he and his good partner
Came driving up together
All the way from California
Despite our winter weather.

So Dorothy, she hitched a ride
Inside their winnebago
And got back home all in good time
For Spring in San Diego!

Kathleen Mortensen © 2007

Deer, Deer, Deer.

This poem was written in response to the appearance of an unusual visitor in the Legislative Building at Fredericton, New Brunswick.

Morning of a Fawn

What must have possessed him

Climbing steps of stone
Ent’ring hallowed halls where
Only man has gone
Pointed stars directing
On his lonely quest
Eyes to front, he’s charging
Which way out is best?
Up and over desktop
Papers fill the air
Crashing heavy objects
Flying tufts of hair
Over in the distance
Streaming on the floor
Sunlight from a window–
Should have used the door!
Slack jaws hanging open
Beast is gone, pell-mell
Speculating’s rampant
Home to park Odell?
Harshness of the winters
Population dropped
Numbers on the rise now
Time the harts were stopped.
Kathleen Mortensen © 2007