Tag Archives: writing


each word dangles like a loose thread

from a well-worn sweater

I pull

it unravels

until there is just a pile of rawness



David Trudel   © 2014



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it’s colder

time for another layer

it’s colder

evenings have become nights

walks turn into mysteries

sounds or shadows

ready to pounce

or disappear into recesses

better forgotten

unfocus away

nightviews an intervention

electrified horizons

unroll blueprints of a thousand streets

under muffled obscurity

it’s colder

there are mysteries in margins

fog rolls

growing into something




David Trudel       ©  2013



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Thank You

I’d like to take a moment to say thank you to my readers.  I have some very faithful visitors to this site and I am humbled by your interest and support.  For those of you who also write I apologize for not visiting your sites as much as I should.  Again, thanks for reading what I write.



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Filed under Passing Thoughts


My Cain and Abel are my words

Battling for the give and take of perception

They circle themselves

Poised to lash out or swiftly defend

I have used words as shields

I have hidden behind their illusion

Used the ambiguity of meaning and intent

To prevaricate and dissemble

Not from deviousness

But unconsciously

Or to mask my own fear and insecurity


Yet I find great joy in words

They are my playground and delight

Dancing meaning into dialogue

Reinventing clouds into rain

Or mining seams of elemental truth

I turn words into bouquets

Or scrawl them on signposts and sidewalks

Like some mad tagger

Illuminating the gray sameness

Of blank canvasses at midnight


Eventually the words turn me

Into a question

That I cannot answer

Feeling walled in

By the discreteness of each definition

Stamped out by our shared accommodation of

Conventional language

Which isn’t drunken shouts of expense account delegates

But a common delusion

That we can trade perceptions

Without trading our inner selves

Uncentering from each private strand of individuality

Into some union of sameness

Believing that words can be shared with exactitude

Forgetting the magical glow of transitory sunsets

And how impossible it is to grasp that moment

Let alone use words to describe the indescribable



David Trudel    © 2013



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It’s as if I’ve been bled once too often

Leaving me hollow and indifferent

I am bemused by the lovestruck and the lovelorn

Who brandish their heartfelt emotions

Like Tibetan prayer flags

I try to listen to my own heart

Then get distracted by the noise

I try to make sense of distant wars and rebellions

But I can’t

I appreciate the natural beauty that surrounds me

Even if I can’t find words to reflect that beauty

Superficial thoughts pop into my mind like cheap firecrackers

Leaving exploded promises smoldering

I string letters into words

Words into phrases

They don’t satisfy me

So I delete them

I listen

I watch

Waiting like a hunter in a blind

For an unsuspecting quarry

Nothing comes

I am patient, knowing that I am on a game trail

I only have to wait a while longer

Before the prey returns



David Trudel   © 2013




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Haiku – August 13


My thoughts slow to a trickle




David Trudel    © 2013



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Surgery Day

Today I am having heart surgery to replace my aortic valve. For the past while I’ve been writing poems that allude to this and the stages I’ve been going through along the way.  I’m sure some folks are thinking that it’s kind of odd to write poetry about a health issue but I don’t believe poetry should just be confined to themes of love and beauty.  There seems to be a pervasive fear to discuss and write about our human frailties so I see this as an opportunity to explode this shibboleth through poetic self-expression.


I am blessed to be living in a country that has a public health system, where I am able to access excellent care for almost no cost.  I have every confidence in the medical staff at the Royal Jubilee Hospital here in Victoria and I’ll be attempting to take notes and continue to write through my convalescence.


Thank you for all the warm wishes,


Love to all,






Filed under Cardiology, Passing Thoughts

Second Half

This is the second half of the poem I started to write

The first half has been deleted

Try to imagine those empty words yourself

Self-indulgent words that were so shallow

They dried up and blew away

Cliché ridden

Devoid of original thought

Ultimately not worth editing

Except to throw them out

And reset baseline standards



David Trudel  ©  2013




Filed under Poetry


Maybe the words will return

Born of ideas half formed between dreams

Ideas that perhaps weren’t ideas at all

Or complete thoughts

But random images surfacing from a saturated consciousness

Spilling over edges like a foamy head of beer on a frosted glass

Leaving a damp awareness of untasted pleasure


Words, paled by shadows and non-exposure

Barely able to hold a meaning

Whether a particular sense or intention

Or an unkind lack of generosity

Still, for a while they caught me with their elegance and truth

Until they collapsed into letters unbound by exactitude

Into sounds that resonated with emotion not meaning


Maybe the words will return but they will be different

They will travel in a different direction

Than the compassless flight of a thought at dawn

Words to bandaid dripping cuts of consciousness

As night becomes dawn becomes day

And brilliance is no longer a beacon but a surrounding

Words forming and reforming into truths and tales

Carrying on and carrying through whatever thoughts are waiting

For those words searching for expression

Releasing the grasp of possessive acquisition

Into poetry



David Trudel       © 2013




Filed under Poetry


There are sins

That taste so delicious

They become virtues

There are vices

That are never left to their own

But are still quite


Odd, how we colour emotions

With shades of judgment

Isn’t it?

Verdict, please

Guilty pleasures

Are almost requisite

To be pleasures at all




David Trudel         © 2013


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