A Fear Examined

I’ve felt fear before

But not like this

Standing on a ledge

On a mountain

With spotty bits of snow about

Crusty, but glistening with an icy film

And my next calculated step

On the well-marked route

Was just a tad too far away

For my stumpy legs to go the distance

I gingerly sat down to ascertain what I might do

To get myself from here to there

No, going up looked perilous

I slowly slid my foot below

I felt soft snow, no stable place on which to stand

My foot recoiled

I did the thing one should not do

When perched above a precipice

I looked into the cavernous, rocky citadel

And wondered where I’d stop, if I did slip and fall

To what would be most probably my doom

I sensed my perch was not a place I could remain for long

My bottom didn’t feel too firmly planted

That’s when I knew the only thing that I could do

Was call for help

“I’m stuck,” I yelped

My gracious, long-legged friend came over in a hurry

He, gangly, gamely, climbed around me

Guiding me with hand and word

I put my knee upon that tricky ledge

He hoisted me to safety

If you can call it that

And here I am

Intact and comfy in my home

Still feeling disconcerted

About the drop that didn’t happen

About the day so full of friends, sunshine, and exertion

Writing a poem about a fear that came to naught

Just to get it out

Before I go out again


Pics are taken by me from Mount Yamnuska, Alberta, Canada. Posts come out when I feel like it. 😀 Scroll down to the bottom of the page to follow me or sign up to receive my posts via email. Listen to my posts on Spotify. Follow me on Instagram. Take a peek at my Redbubble store: Pollyeloquent.redbubble.com. Thank you for giving me some of your precious time!

Pass Me the Remote

Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re stupid, ugly, too young or too old, boring, undesirable, weak, incapable, useless, or crazy. Ignore them, distance yourself from them, for they don’t know you or care about you. Anyway, you do a more than adequate job of abusing yourself. You don’t need any help with that. 😉

Continue reading “Pass Me the Remote”

Christmas is About Love

I’m hours away from getting on a plane to visit my mother. She lives 10 hours from me in the next province over. She has dementia and it’s been worsening of late. For a couple of years now, she’s been slipping, repeating herself, forgetting important things like her health history or that she wears glasses and hearing aids. She’s still an avid talker, but her conversations now revolve around her big tv and the man friend that drops in to watch football. Sometimes when I’m with her and I’m bored and a little mischievous and too tired to redirect her, I’ll bring up the big TV myself. One of her oft repeated phrases is, “At least I still have my mind”, something that makes us smile every time she says it. Continue reading “Christmas is About Love”

A Note from the Writer

Hello friends,

I’m writing this little note regarding my last post, “Where’s the Peace”. I failed to label that list of Christmas Complaints as fiction and didn’t rectify the situation soon enough. I had some people thinking I was having a Christmas meltdown. That list was my creative way of illustrating some of the stressors people face in our culture at Christmastime. As for me, I’m a little too laid back and a little too work shy, which is a nice way of saying lazy, to do all of that. My apologies to anyone who thought I needed prayer or a psych assessment. 😀 I’ll try to communicate more effectively from now on. 

Polly 🙂

I thought I’d share a few pics of creative Christmasy window dressings. I do love the glitz and glam! Continue reading “A Note from the Writer”

Where’s the Peace?

A Fictitious Listicle of Christmas Complaints

The biting cold, the howling wind, the slippery roads, the snow piling up, and the enveloping darkness, make me want to roll up in a blanket with a jumbo bag of Munchie Mix and not poke my head out till spring.

I wiped out in a heap on the driveway yesterday and was pretty sure I looked like a beached whale and, if I didn’t manage to get up promptly enough, that someone was coming to helicopter me out to the Arctic and lob me onto a precariously thin patch of ice and set me adrift still lying there, essentially gift-wrapped walrus bait.img_2270

My neighbor’s house looks like a reindeer binged on 10 ugly Christmas sweaters and then proceeded to projectile vomit. You’d think looking at it would banish my Seasonal Affective Disorder forever, but I still feel like I need to go inside, dim the lights, and take an Ativan. I’ve started averting my eyes even in the daytime. 

My 30-year-old, Zellers Christmas special, fake Christmas tree is now starting to look like a 30-year-old, Zellers Christmas special, fake Christmas tree. Even Charlie Brown and the gang couldn’t sing this pathetic, scraggly mess of glue and plastic back to life.

My attempt at making a cheery platter of whimsical holiday treats ended with me crying, dusted with flour and eating cookie batter out of the bowl, while tearfully admitting that I don’t have the dexterity to use a rolling pin, cookie cutter, or piping bag or the stamina to make six dozen cookies in one day.

The lines were so long at the mall and the people so grouchy, I started to blame them for everything that’s wrong with my life.

fe0a9ec7-abaa-464a-bab9-0a6de62d856bIf I have to listen to Frosty the Snowman one more time, I might have to rent a snow blower and take out all the snowmen in my neighborhood, handknit scarves, carrots, and all.

I couldn’t find the wildly popular, obscenely overpriced, Christmas gifts my loved ones wanted, so there’ll be dampened sadness around the tree this year instead of joy.

I can’t afford this but I’m doing it anyway and I’m not sure why.

I got the ugliest ornament in the gift exchange at work. It’ll make a fine addition to my growing collection of ugly ornaments from Christmases past.

Too much cheese log equals one large cheese plug. 😛

With all these Christmas parties, my bowl-full-of-jelly belly is starting to overflow my pants by a couple of large dollops.

The turkey is dry, the gravy is lumpy, the Jello didn’t set, the guests are arriving, and I feel like a smelly, wrung out dish rag who just had her hand up a big bird’s butt.

Continue reading “Where’s the Peace?”

On Creativity

I’ve been thinking a lot about art and creativity recently. I’ve always been on the artsy side of things and yet never considered myself an artist until the last couple of years, when a friend called me an artist. I feel very honoured someone would think of me in that way, because I adore art and admire artists. They make the world so interesting and beautiful. Now that I look at Miriam Webster’s Definition, “a person who creates art (such as painting, sculpture, music, or writing) using conscious skill and creative imagination”, I see that I most certainly am an artist and I’m prepared to settle into that title like relaxing into a comfy couch. Continue reading “On Creativity”

The Path of Service

It was a couple of months into the pandemic. Other than grocery shopping and going outside for fresh air and exercise, we were asked to stay home to contain the spread. My son and I were c1b761d7-8ef1-4631-b36d-42aaf5f259e2walking on the dirt path in the river valley near our home. We were approaching a section carved midway up the hill where one had to walk single file to reach a couple of flights of stairs that would take us up out of the ravine. We immediately noticed an unusual sight. An old man stood on the trail wielding a shovel. It was a warm day and there was sweat dripping from his brow. He was gouging out the side of the hill with this shovel and tossing his take down into the river. He was widening the path, so that two could walk together side by side. Every time I walk on that path now, which is often, I think about that man. While many of us were holed up in our homes, worried about ourselves and our loved ones, complaining about masks and restrictions, he was doing something positive. He was making the world a better place. Continue reading “The Path of Service”