Tag Archives: Victoria


Cold and gray, the day drizzled itself awake

Turned inward

Clouds lowered the ceiling to basement height

Out in the strait a fogbank prowled like a pack of wolves

Raggedly harassing trawlers and travelers

Like me, ascending the short ladder from the lurching float

Into the seaplane’s cold cabin

Soon packed sardine tin tight with sullen suits

What shreds of sleep still lingered torn away by the roar and rattles

Of the slap happy runway race across the waves

Up into the lowering clouds which kept a lid on

Then the pack of wolves returned

To nip and heel the seaplane back to cold reality

We could have dropped a line for lunch

But with a lurch and clang we met a reef

Rising up where it shouldn’t have been but was

Hyper wakeful we watched kelp beds swirl dim greenly in the fog

While the echo of the pontoon kissing rock reverberated

Over the shock of this unexpected interruption

When flight no longer soared but saw the sea close up

Motoring like a dragonfly boat back to port

Defeated by raindrops and the mist

We shook off dreams in drizzled fear

Dodging disaster for a time

This time when the sea pulled back the leash



David Trudel     © 2013



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Ida Nomore

600373_10151333157542036_2060481016_nI look into your eyes and see determination

I see courage born of oppression

Of knowing that the worst is only more of the same

And since you’ve taken enough shit for a generation

It’s not exactly child’s play

But it ain’t as bad as giving in

There are no more excuses

No more retreats

When so many backs are walled

A line forms

And damn it

You say, you know what?

Fuck you assholes

If you want to play that way

I’ll take you on

I’ll set the stage

On the granite steps of your monumental edifice

With a lawn chair

A few signs

And time



David Trudel   © 2013


Filed under Poetry


This rabble needs no rousing

Cold winds keep us fresh

Awake to possibilities

Alert to threats

Against the land

Against the water

Against the people

So we raise our voices

Shout our opposition

To economic interests

That disregard so much

Short-term profits

Don’t trump sustainability

Stewardship means standing up

Speaking out

Finding warrior spirit

A backbone and




David Trudel  © 2012


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Happy Birthday Susan

Let’s begin with the bow

Big and mauve and perfectly tied

Handmade by Martha Stewart herself


She even signed the ribbon

Cinched around the box


The box is a perfect cube

Wrapped in champagne silk

That is only produced in a single village

In a hidden location in the middle kingdom


The silken wrapping has been handstitched into place

By Irish nuns, cloistered in an ancient convent

Each stitch comes with a prayer and a teardrop

Supplication, devotion and acceptance are sewn in


You decide to leave this present unwrapped

You place it on your desk

On a pile of printouts of the keepers

The ones you felt were worthy to be inked on paper


The mystery of the contents of the box

Might cause some to rip open the treasured wrappings

Greedily tear open the box hoping for reciprocal reaction

To the action of the wrapping

Major bling, maybe a piece of Chihuly glass

A signed “Victoria Lucas” first edition of The Bell Jar


You resist

Savoring the mystery

Knowing the promise is so vast

So perfect

There is no need to disturb it

Since the inspiration is so grand

Outside the box

Just like you

Are outside the box

And your curiosity, the need to uncover deeper truths

Enjoys contemplating the plight

Of whatever it is that’s trapped within

Just like you do everyday

With every line you write


David Trudel  © 2012



Filed under Poetry