Excerpt for Shorelines by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.

~ Michelangelo

Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt

rather than seen.

~ Leonardo da Vinci


OTHER BOOKS BY CANDICE JAMES

A Split In The Water – Fiddlehead 1979

Inner Heart, A Journey – Silver Bow 2010

Bridges And Clouds – Silver Bow 2011

Midnight Embers, A Book of Sonnets – Libros Libertad 2012



Shorelines

A Book of Villanelles


By Candice James



SHORELINES

Copyright © 2013 Silver Bow Publishing


Cover Photo: Candice James

Cover Design: Janet Kvammen

Proofreader: Janet Kvammen

Layout Design: Candice James

Editor: Candice James


Artwork: Emily Cuthbertson, Candice James, Rex Howard, Janet

Kvammen, Don Portelance, Doreen Bruce, and Valerie Barron-McRae


All rights reserved including the right to reproduce or translate

this book or any portions thereof, in any form


All rights reserved including the right to reproduce or translate

this book or any portions thereof, in any form

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not

be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book

with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If

you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for

your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own

copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author


Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

First Edition ISBN 978-1-927616-09-3


© 2013 Silver Bow Publishing

ISBN 978-1-927616-01-7


Preface:


This book has come into being as a result of me wanting to provide

encouragement and confidence to my granddaughter Emily, who is on the

Autism Spectrum.


Emily enjoys art including, drawing, painting and pastels. When I mentioned

possibility of publishing a book with some of her artwork in it she was very

excited so I made it a priority

in my life to give her this gift of having her photograph on the front cover and

her artwork included along with mine, and some other local artists. The artwork

by Emily was done under

the experienced guidance and tutelage of Martin Liebmann whom I thank for his

kind, caring personality and instruction which has been so instrumental in

drawing out the best in Emily’s creativity.


I would also like to thank the Artists who have contributed to this book: Don

Portelance, Janet Kvammen, Doreen Bruce, Valerie Barron-McRae, the late Rex

Howard, and of course Emily Cuthbertson.


This book of villanelles has been a labour of love and collaboration. I hope you

will enjoy it.~ Candice James Poet Laureate City of New Westminster, BC Canada



A BROKEN WIND CHIME


A snow cast heart is frozen in time,

Unrecognizable, beating no more,

Hanging beside a broken wind chime.

Robbed of its rhythm, robbed of its rhyme,

Locked in steel cage, no window, no door,

A snow cast heart is frozen in time.

Silent creature in pantomime,

An unfinished symphony, no music, no score,

Hanging beside a broken wind chime.

Inside this prismatic paradigm,

With teardrops refracting deep in its core,

A snow cast heart is frozen in time;

In a bed of dampened roses and lime,

A remnant of what it was before,

Hanging beside a broken wind chime.

Love leaves behind a most grievous crime;

Abandoned on a desolate shore

A snow cast heart is frozen in time

Hanging beside a broken wind chime.



Candice James


A MURDER OF CROWS


Black is the night without scent of rose;

Paint spilling from an ebony jar,

Slicing the sky, a murder of crows,

A rending of ragged seams to expose

The broken edge of a shattered star.

Black is the night without scent of rose;

The dying of essences and afterglows,

A drifting of sparks turning into a scar,

Slicing the sky, a murder of crows.

A charcoal mist on December snows,

Dreams an illusion always too far.

Black is the night without scent of rose;

With fragile arrows and broken bows

In the wounded paw of a raging jaguar,

Slicing the sky, a murder of crows.

Shedding disguises and shredded clothes,

The dark returns to its avatar.

Black is the night without scent of rose;

Slicing the sky, a murder of crows.



A RIVER FLOWS


A river flows beneath the breeze

Upon a broken stony bed,

Adorning rock hewn shore and trees.

An eagle eye peers down and sees

A silver salmon’s bobbing head.

A river flows beneath the breeze.

The droning buzz of swarming bees

Outside a rusty run down shed;

Adorning rock hewn shore and trees,

Loosened now from winter’s freeze;

Arisen, springing from the dead

A river flows beneath the breeze.

A splash of crocus clings with ease

To newborn soil rich and red,

Adorning rock hewn shore and trees.

The mountains bend down on their knees.

The sunset bows its weary head.

A river flows beneath the breeze

Adorning rock hewn shore and trees.



A WEAVE OF TEARS


A weave of tears within the dress,

A necklace hiding sins and lies,

And secrets she dare not confess.

It’s not a case of more is less.

The truth becomes her in no size.

A weave of tears within the dress,

Who she is no one can guess.

She hides behind persuasive sighs

And secrets she dare not confess.

They cut her like a knife’s caress.

Wounded by accusing eyes

A weave of tears within the dress.

Her words deny what thoughts express.

She hides in sayings of the wise

And secrets she dare not confess.

She searches for a saint to bless

The fallout of her compromise.

A weave of tears within the dress

And secrets she dare not confess.



AMBER AND EBONY


Amidst the amber and ebony

Aftermath mixes with afterglow

To feel the agony and ecstasy.

A midnight rainbow’s imagery

Shines in neon calico,

Amidst the amber and ebony

Spilling a silver star dusted sea

Onto night’s canvas soft and slow

To feel the agony and ecstasy.

In full effulgence of parody

An eagle dances a jig with a crow

Amidst the amber and ebony.

Red wine pouring out, flowing free,

Slaking the spirit from head to toe

To feel the agony and ecstasy.

Illusions shatter, reveal destiny.

The soul must bleed before it can go

Amidst the amber and ebony

To feel the agony and ecstasy.



ANGEL’S WINGS


Skipping through water like a smooth stone,

Rippling the glass sepulchre of the lake

An angel’s wings flutter on Nature’s throne.

Each rainbow tethered, feathered wing sewn

To white capped mountains, icing heaven’s cake,

Skipping through water like a smooth stone

I search each ripple for skeletal bone

Of carcass, or ghost pleading fatal mistake.


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