Tag Archives: unrequited love

waiting for moonrise
a heron creeps the tideline
pulling a promise

David Trudel © 2014

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Filed under Haiku

someone else’s rainbow

raining now, hunching into the wind

sea air spilling fresh

winds pulling ruined towers around horizons

white against grey, grey against blue, blue against indigo

shored meadows dressed in purple and yellow

on mottled rocks

an otter surfaces nearby

prize clutched defiantly sliding around a corner

clouds part enough to flash some sky

we are standing at the end of someone else’s rainbow

hunching into the wind

watching cumulus reservoirs slow rolling overhead

underfoot a treasury of the overlooked

while someone wishes

hunching into the wind



David Trudel   © 2014



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there was a moment when

I had to admit

I’d fallen into your orbit

it was too late

to save me

gravity pulled

I was




David Trudel   © 2014




Filed under Poetry


it was like drip





pulling tree essence

good intentions


down there


it was like respirations

of the Pacific

travelled in and out




concentrated into


water of forever

healed into clear drops


washed absolution

reconnected to a fresh return

of my own fluidity

eroding rock walls






not a virtue

but necessary

as rain washes upper stories

into lower

drop by drop

changed by intentions

like I want to reach the sky


I express gratitude

causing molecular reconfiguration

I send a wave of prayers

into forever


I feel the forest upswell

meet water, wondered into magic

from formless transform

to magnificent

in time for just now


a wave has me tumbled

or a wave has tumbled

through this forest

to drown me



David Trudel  © 2014






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Fuck You Saint Valentine

one day I’ll run through the mall

shouting Fuck You Saint Valentine

patron saint of the beautiful, the privileged

you’re a tease, a fiction

spreading hope, packaged passion


Fuck You Hallmark cards

perpetuating a myth of receptive possibilities

promoting expectations

one phrase at a time


Fuck You Harlequin Romances

happy endings all tidied up

measured passion

not the snarls of our lives


Fuck You Hollywood

avalanche of romantic comedies

soundtracks swollen with strings

when all some of us hear is the croak

of Tom Waits at two in the morning


Fuck You Saint Valentine

glossing over the childrens’ labour

sweetly boxed


Fuck You mall wanderlings

I’m tired of happy passion

animated Barbie and Ken dolls

buying underwear for each other


Saint Rita!

patron saint of loneliness

of forgotten causes

a saint for the chronically alone

a saint without P.R.


So Fuck You Saint Valentine

I’m over your sweet promises

I’ll plead my case to Saint Rita

on her feast day I’ll take myself out to lunch

and I won’t be disappointed



David Trudel    © 2014






Filed under Poetry


some days are like that






not quite a total fucking disaster

but not bad either


gotcha, says he


it’s the middle of winter

but when the sun shines

even a grey day

shows some colour

like a redwinged blackbird

on a fenceline


tenuous as hell


when its raining and cold

it all gets to be


like that



David Trudel       © 2014



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Filed under Poetry


this day there was a choir


as we approached the beach

for real

in a circle

entoning celestial voices against

moist slurps percussively



there was a rock

to shelter against

in the brilliant light

of cadenced winter


there was your face

reflecting the wind

the crows paid no attention

as they chortled their way across tideline buffets


manicured dogs careen along this margin

we disregard the others


in a dialogue that dances into


until we enter the present

capturing moments

with precision and obliqueness


entering into a realm where colours shift

with each tilt of the head

where land slips beneath the waves

and rocks turn into sand

beneath our feet


as dusk purples distant mountains

gulls cry

I look at you


that sometimes sunsets have supporting roles



David Trudel  ©  2014



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patience is a lonely virtue

worn thin as hand me downs

in a too large family

in a too old house

but patience is what’s required

for trust to develop

for the comfort of familiarity

waiting for acceptance

like letting birds settle

while you wait for the path to open

while you wait for the way forward

patience is a lonely virtue

requiring surreptitious repetition

gentling alarms with quiet strokes

patience is persistent non-pursuit

patience is acceptance of illusions

allowing mirages to be photo-shopped into tomorrow

waiting for that calm moment

that waits like a forest clearing 

that waits like a perfect moment

worthy of an eternity of frustration

patience is the appreciation of a possibility

and the acceptance of its loss

patience is letting now catch up with tomorrow

while the wind whistles

and cries

patience is learning to ignore the immediate

knowing that some prizes are worth the wait

David Trudel    ©  2013

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Filed under Poetry

end of the world

if it was the end of the world

would you hold my hand

and pull me into you

if it was the end of the world

would you kiss me

like the fate of eternity depended on

our lips

if it was the end of the world

would you hold my head in your hands

while we hold our gazes

while we hold the end off

for a moment longer

until the end of the world

becomes inconsequential

until the end of the world

is you


holding on

to each other

until the end of the world

is discovery

until the end of the world

no longer matters


David Trudel      ©   2013

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it all happens


even random shots

caroming off bumpers

have some impulse

driven into them

by some driver

someone with a pointed stick

ready to

make a decision


so when you look at me


lips pursed

I know what mine is


and I begin to be deliberate

in the deliberation

of my anarchistic freedom

into some kind of surrender

a giving up of control

just as I realize I never had it



this has always been a shared delusion

and once shared





David Trudel    © 2013



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Filed under Poetry