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Crackers and Crumbs

By Barry Plamondon

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Title: Crackers and Crumbs

Author: Barry Plamondon

Cover Photo: Candice James

Cover Design: Candice James

Layout Design: Candice James

© 2016 Silver Bow Publishing

All rights reserved including the right to reproduce or translate this book or any portions thereof, in any form

ISBN 9782927626307 (e-book)

ISBN 978-1-927616-24-6

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication


Plamondon, Barry, author Crackers & crumbs / Barry Plamondon.


Poems.ISBN 978-1-927616-24-6 (paperback)


I. Title.  II. Title: Crackers and crumbs.


PS8631.L3C73 2016 C811'.6 C2016-906209-0

ISBN 9782927626307 (e-book)


Silver Bow Publishing

Box 5 - 720 Sixth St.,

New Westminster, BC


Email: info@silverbowpublishing.com

Website: www.silverbowpublishing.com

Website: http://www.alibris.com/stores/silverbow

Books by Barry Plamondon

This ‘n’ That, Bric a Brac (Friesen Press 2016)

Silver Bow Publishing

Box 5 - 720 Sixth St.,

New Westminster, BC


Email: info@silverbowpublishing.com

Website: www.silverbowpublishing.com

Website: http://www.alibris.com/stores/silverbow

“Start by doing what's necessary, then what's possible

and suddenly you are doing the impossible.”

~ Saint Francis of Assisi


I thank the many people who have crossed my path of poetry and enriched it, including Candice James, the staff of Silver Bow Publishing, and fellow poet Deborah Kelly. I especially thank my lovely wife Sandi and our beautiful children Danielle, Jarred, Dominique, Jakob, Desirée, Juliette and Darian for their love and support.

~ Barry Plamondon 

Tiny Words

“Why?” you ask, taking me into your trust

“Because,” I answer, “because I know I must”

To put these tiny words onto a page

When I know I am neither a poet nor a sage

This would be difficult to explain to you

When in truth it dumbfounds me too

I’ve taken my share of what life had to give

In the end the best I could hope for was to simply live

And when my downtrodden spirit needed a lift

The good Lord saw fit to give me a gift

It was those same tiny words I spoke of before

Coursing through my veins too strongly to ignore

And I knew I had to give them life somehow

Because that was all that was left to me now

The Poor Weather Cove

It was a poor weather cove

On the leeward side of Cougar Island

It didn’t seem to have a name

Though I’d heard some call it Half Moon Bay

With its rocky driftwood strewn beaches

It really wasn’t much to look at

But over the years it had saved the life of many a mariner

When an old Nor’wester would come up

They’d weigh anchor for a day or two until the storm had passed

Then it was back out to sea to continue their journey up the coast

That little cove has saved me more times than I could remember

So when the seamen get together to have a drink and swap yarns

If someone proposes a toast to Half Moon Bay

I’m always the first to raise my glass

“Here’s to Half Moon Bay”

Two Cups of Tea

Two cups of tea on the table

One for me and one for Mabel

We take our tea each day at four

Not one minute after or a minute before

Always biscuits and scones on the side

And oh how we love to talk and confide

The juicy news of the neighbourhood

A little gossip sure does a soul good

We debate on the world’s latest affairs

Though Mabel says she thinks nobody cares

It’s a wonder we get through our biscuits and tea

But we do every day Mabel and me

And always it’s the same at the same table

Two cups of tea, one for me one for Mabel


Stained glass windows

We used to sit beneath those

When we’d all get together to pray

I used to love the way

The light shone through the glass

As the preacher gave his Mass

Colour splashed every where

As we all sat there

Reds, blues, greens,

they gave that service more meaning

I used to sit there and wonder

how often those windows needed cleaning

Mandy (a chance meeting)

It was good to meet an old friend again

One who’d been through the joy and the pain

To hug her felt so good

Someone from the old neighbourhood

We talked about the times we’d had

From the good through to the bad

But there was one thing neither of us could explain

Why is it we can never go back there again?

Perfect Small Star

Should I lie to make myself a better person

No, the situation I’m sure would only worsen

For then I would try to be someone I’m not

And before long I would almost surely get caught

To be exposed as a fraud

Not as the original sent by God

The house cat dreams of being a lion

The turtle would love wings to go flying

But they both know it never could work

They are who they are even if by some quirk

It’s best to be who we really are

Each in our own way a perfect small star

The Loss of a Friend

‘Twas a cold winter’s eve

We had gathered to grieve

The loss of a friend

Who’d come to a bad end

He’d mistaken brake and gas

That’s how he came to pass

“He’s in a better place,” we all said

Then a thought came to my head

I hope he drives better there than he did here

And I slowly shed a silent tear

To Be Remembered

Here by the fire where the stories are told

I hope when I’m gone some evening I’ll be remembered

And they’ll speak of a kind man, a strong man, a brave man

A man who put others before himself and cared deeply for

All the creatures of God’s green earth

In this story I will be remembered as a man who didn’t

Smoke tobacco, gamble or drink alcohol

A man who loved his wife and never cheated

And a man who went to church every Sunday

Or they could just tell the truth instead…

It would be good just to be remembered

The Gales of December

The wind hits the house in gusts

Gale force thrusts

One every minute or so

Trees outside sway to and fro

It comes in from the west

And leaves such a mess

All my life I’ll remember

The storms in December

They started when I was a child

With a fury untamed and wild

Through all the years I have ever known

The gales of December have always blown

Throwing Stones at the Moon

Throwing stones at the moon

It all happened too soon

The tinkle of glass from the house next door

We’d overshot our mark by a few feet or more

Soon to be heard the pit patter of feet

As we made our way quickly down the street

To a fate quite dreaded and as yet unknown

Then we’d hear mom’s voice in an angry tone

“Just you wait until your father gets home.”

After that we’d sit quietly our rooms alone

Awaiting the man who’d decide our fate

Hoping against hope that he would be late

The Insanity of Reason

The pure insanity of reason

I swear is a form of treason

I must say though in my own defense

I was taught when young what made sense

When I decided to believe otherwise

I was always given the evil eyes

So I finally came to this conclusion

It was best to take part in the delusion

To “know” what you were talking about

Or just like a leper you’d be cast out

Now here I sit a man out of season

Betrayed by the pure insanity of reason

A Perfect Sunset

Another perfect sunset in harmony with the world below

The oceans shimmer and the mountains glow

The Creator has used his palette to paint the western sky

Amethyst, tangerine, and pink for you and I


When I looked down the red canyon wall

I knew that it stretched for eternity

And that if I were to call

My echo should never return to me

Nature’s Lessons

So it all came crashing down

In pieces to the ground

Everything we had built

No longer stood on sand or silt

The elements had proved too much

The rain, the wind and such

Would we build again?

Sure we’d do it all the same

The same materials, the same tools

Nature’s lessons are often lost on fools


The speedy cat caught a rat

And that for the rat was that

A kind of karma in a way?

For way back in the day

The rat and his kin helped spread the flea and her egg

Which in turn caused the spread of the Bubonic Plague

Where karma ends it’s hard to guess

But this universe is one big karmic mess

The Tail of “Old Dawg”

The dog zigged when he should have zagged

Hit by a car he was bagged

Gave us quite a scare the old mutt

But it was really just a pain in the butt

He would live this time said the vet

At least until head on the next car he met

Though his tail they could not revive

We were glad just to see him still alive

They say cats have nine lives, dogs don’t

To make that mistake again I’m sure he won’t

Poet’s Legacy

Some cute little poet wrote a work on life

How to save the world from trouble and strife

Have they anything better to do with their time

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