Poetry in Motion: Local Poets Share Words on “Connection”

Halifax Public Libraries has had the honour of working with the Writers’ Federation of Nova Scotia and Halifax Transit for the past three years to bring the Poetry in Motion , opens a new windowinitiative to life.

Poetry in Motion provides a unique opportunity for transit passengers to look up from their screens; to recognize how they move among their fellow residents and visitors; and to think about how a place becomes exceptional, why local history should be honoured, and what aspirations they have for their region.

Poetry in Motion reinvigorates the written word—making poetry accessible to all, connecting with people in shared or private moments, and celebrating the partnership of organizations, writers, and artists coming together to create truly poetic moments of unity. These short poems surprise and delight those who experience them in unexpected places.

Please enjoy these words on the topic of "Connection," written by local poets for the Fall 2021 Poetry in Motion project. These poems were largely written during the height of the pandemic in Nova Scotia.

They travelled around Halifax and the province as a whole on buses; bringing moments of much-needed connection.

We look forward to setting more Poetry in Motion this fall.


Open by Anna Elmira

to open clenched fists
and turn cracked palms
towards the sun, is to remedy
the wounds of winter


Spring 2020 by Brian Bartlett

Community garden—
a laid-off dishwasher
plants rows all morning

During today's walk
the beauties of wind chimes
outnumber human voices

On a balcony
a fiddler, surprised
by a distant trumpeter


BLAZE by Carole Glasser Langille

I believe the Commandments.
If those I love have left,
that does not mean they're not here.
The most powerful memories
are the ones don't share.
Sky blazing at sunset, firefall of water,
purple rocket bursting roadside—a summer explosion.
Oh love, that you are in the world.
We are all the burning bush. Whether the prophet approaches or not,
is only part of the story.


And Yet... by Christina McRae

Grief soaks me right through. And yet,
in the everyday of millions of years, millions

of insects do the work that needs to be done,
regardless. The roots of August flowers

nudge deeper. The package I mailed last week
arrives on a doorstep, and the door opens.

The dog tells me it's time to walk and the feather
laid on the path will flutter in my hand.


Spring Arrival by Deborah Banks

The way the eaves are dripping this morning
from the light-rimmed greenhouse. I tell you.
Then the crow, untaming the silence with his announcements.
What more can you offer us, world?
We are all want and take, you are all give.
Drip, you magic eaves, and sluice the grasses
with your silvered coins of wet.
I am going for a walk
to collect more of this oneness,
to fill my pockets with the very breath of the earth.


Roots by Joanne Bealy

She
walked me into the middle of
her very LARGE garden
and left me.
I could tell she was still mad.

Watch how real life happens, she said.
Nobody here trying to prove anything.


Used Envelopes by Leanne Schneider

Ten years old, sitting beside Grammy's rocking chair in the evening light.
She hands me a stack of used envelopes to cut into squares.
For note paper, she says. She's lived through the Great Depression.
 
Fifty-four years old, sitting in my bed in the morning light.
Cutting up used envelopes into squares.
I've lived through a great depression but this comforts me. 

Light & Darkness by Martha Mutale

I AM LIGHT, AND DARKNESS
I AM CALM BEFORE MY STORM
I AM CONSTANT RAGE, FULL OF GRIEF, AND I LIVE IN FEAR
I AM LAUGHTER ON MY BEST DAYS, AND MAKE JOKES ON MY WORST
I AM SUNSHINE, CLOUDS, AND RAIN
I AM MY FAVOURITE FLAVOURS AND SCENTS
I AM MY FAVOURITE MEAL ON ANY DAY
AM MANY THINGS, EACH DAY


One Bite by Robin Metcalfe

one bite
into a
fresh
apple
is enough
to prove
the universe
miraculous


Clematic by Susan Drain

From shadowed roots climbs thinnest green
Its tendrils tentative at first, then
tight around a twig, along a wire
across a gap
trailing leaves and twining buds until
the broken wall
the rotten fence
the old dead tree
are cloaked and crowned in crimson

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