tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70050055266440650242024-03-13T05:43:23.439-07:00Trasharella SpeaksPhilip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-1271181618327964222011-09-10T22:18:00.000-07:002011-09-10T23:21:52.294-07:00LAMENT FOR JACK LAYTON AND A DYING SUMMER<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7emjF9XYpLJrnoLRHF6YvCqjO0CaGil2Pyp8nUh1c-8aKIQYr4ZmGGxL2-0Ex1F7pfq8YFXP9rqREt-4YKVmmBdEizVhsMIhFV_H56ErbxiTFSOPpLEB7azaMoXAv3l1RbXJGOIiS3E/s1600/sunset.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 295px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7emjF9XYpLJrnoLRHF6YvCqjO0CaGil2Pyp8nUh1c-8aKIQYr4ZmGGxL2-0Ex1F7pfq8YFXP9rqREt-4YKVmmBdEizVhsMIhFV_H56ErbxiTFSOPpLEB7azaMoXAv3l1RbXJGOIiS3E/s400/sunset.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650983413697350194" /></a><br />Tuesday, August 23, 2011/Monday, August 29, 2011<br /><br />LAMENT FOR JACK LAYTON AND A DYING SUMMER<br /><br />By Philip Cairns<br /><br />Copyright 2011 by Philip Cairns<br /><br />On this late August early evening,<br />The chill of the coming fall<br />Bites into my bare legs.<br /><br />A shivering, icy chuck of detritus sits in my taut gut,<br />Refusing to be evacuated.<br />Too much activity around me,<br />Distractions pulling me away from my churning insides.<br /><br />The lake is frosty and haughty,<br />Refusing to comfort me and speak to my soul.<br />Sadness and regrets tear into my sombre, cold flesh.<br /><br />Twenty-four hours ago,<br />I watched the TV news.<br />Jack Layton passed away.<br /><br />This afternoon, I ran into a lefty comrade from the Co-operative Housing movement.<br />“I’d have to say he was one of the all-time great Canadians,” she said.<br />I believe he really cared about the people of Canada,<br />As every Canadian politician should.<br /><br />He wasn’t in it for fame, money or fancy cars.<br />Jack used his power and charisma to help you and I.<br />To fight for justice and equality.<br /><br />What a contrast to our current mayor, Rob Ford<br />Who is truly an international embarrassment.<br />A bad joke on the people of this city.<br />Ford just strikes me as someone slightly dim,<br />Drowning in water too deep for his shallow intellect.<br /><br />I feel distraught because Canada has lost a truly unique individual.<br />At least I know I’m not the only one feeling this way.<br />It isn’t fair.<br />Sixty-one is far too young to exit this churning, desperate planet we call Earth.<br /><br />The sky is turning incredible shades of blue and mauve<br />As the exhausted sun decides to rest for the day.<br />Geese feed on the grass all around me.<br />A seagull sits quietly,<br />All puffed up against the chill.<br /><br />Small white boats waft by in the lake.<br />Runners and cyclists speed along,<br />Hoping to stay fit and healthy.<br /><br />Goodbye, Jack.<br />All I can say is thank you for your devotion and integrity.<br />Thank you for caring<br />And helping to make Toronto and Canada a better place to be.<br /><br />I remember marching in the Labour Day parade,<br />Some summers ago.<br />We ended up prancing into the CNE grounds at the end of the day.<br />There was Jack and Olivia Chow in the stands,<br />Waving and smiling as we marched in<br />Wearing our light blue ACTRA T-shirts.<br />That’s how I will remember you.<br /><br />Your smile and joyous energy, that day,<br />Was so encouraging and bright.<br />I felt proud to be an actor, a union member and a Canadian.<br />I will always keep that final image of you in my head.<br />Goodbye. <br />You were forever on the side of the working people.Philip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-10345977443062451532011-08-14T23:33:00.000-07:002011-08-14T23:36:13.283-07:00THE 80s QUEEN WEST ART SCENE<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZs-vCjhqa4QScKnXr1A5r1iZZ6uATejMPt-r2GDGGdD1Rix31RrUbbiVTf5eMHFQWxhOA2yXgeeUExizPnIJHLZPXBTRZ06Gsqx7AWBx0JeG8C7NN_e3SYsw1JrC8OtuzRQykW5OZUI/s1600/Lorne+Wagman+landscape+3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 324px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZs-vCjhqa4QScKnXr1A5r1iZZ6uATejMPt-r2GDGGdD1Rix31RrUbbiVTf5eMHFQWxhOA2yXgeeUExizPnIJHLZPXBTRZ06Gsqx7AWBx0JeG8C7NN_e3SYsw1JrC8OtuzRQykW5OZUI/s400/Lorne+Wagman+landscape+3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5640967812351790290" /></a>
<br />Saturday, July 23, 2011
<br />
<br />THE 80s QUEEN WEST ART SCENE
<br />
<br />By Philip Cairns
<br />Copyright 2011 by Philip Cairns
<br />
<br />Thinking back to the 80s art scene in Toronto.
<br />So much talent and optimism
<br />Gushing onto wet, vibrant canvasses and paper.
<br />New faces, fresh ideas.
<br />Figurative Expressionism was the order of the day.
<br />
<br />Painters and writers living off Canada Council grants.
<br />Money seemed more plentiful despite a tight Recession.
<br />Packed, exciting openings,
<br />Crowded parties.
<br />Hot, spinning couples churning out babies and masterpieces.
<br />
<br />Galleries and small theatre companies springing up like mushrooms.
<br />Where have all those bright, new faces gone?
<br />Purple, pink and iridescent gold oozing out of tubes of paint.
<br />Queen Street and the Cameron House seemed to be the centre of things.
<br />
<br />You could go to 80 Spadina,
<br />Wandering from floor to floor,
<br />Full of galleries crammed with incredible, visionary imagery.
<br />Charmed and surreal lights shone down on us.
<br />Exciting theatre and writers exploding all over us,
<br />Like the money shot in a porno film.
<br />Now, middle age has grabbed us by the throat.
<br />Death claimed many.
<br />
<br />Some retreated into teaching,
<br />But still trying to keep the flame alive.
<br />Chroma Zone birthed a lot of energetic life, back then.
<br />No one knew what lay ahead.
<br />
<br />We were all gonna become art stars,
<br />With hot-shot dealers selling our work all over the world.
<br />Getting grants till we puked.
<br />Hanging in the Louvre.
<br />
<br />I miss those shimmering golden days.
<br />We were Picasso, Liz and Dick, Brangelina, Dali.
<br />Some fell by the wayside and disappeared.
<br />
<br />Creating art is an Escher labyrinth.
<br />One needs Loreena McKennitt’s yin and yang to thrive.
<br />You have to paint the Mona Lisa, Monet’s “Water Lilies” and then float it down the lake, as well.
<br />Where is the Canadian “Vanity Fair” or “Interview” magazine to promote us?
<br />
<br />Leaving MOCCA, today,
<br />Seeing all that glorious work on the walls,
<br />And Rae Johnson and Andy Fabo,
<br />Took me back to the summer of 1984.
<br />
<br />Leaving the opening of “Painting Beyond the Zone” at ARC Gallery on Queen West.
<br />Some of the same people’s work on the walls.
<br />Walking home in the hot, refreshing night.
<br />I had stars in my eyes and glitter on my eyelids,
<br />Despite my crappy little part time job
<br />And dark, Spartan, sweltering apartment.
<br />
<br />Images of paintings swirl all around me.
<br />Time zooms by in an elastic instant.
<br />A time tunnel is a tragic place.
<br />
<br />We were all part of something special.
<br />Thriving,
<br />Struggling to surface.
<br />Pretty, slim,
<br />Full of everything.
<br />We thought we’d get it all.
<br />Then life got in the way.
<br />The real world opened the door a crack
<br />And then rushed in, like a slow motion waterfall.
<br />
<br />I miss seeing the light.
<br />Life was a slurpy, wet Fudgesicle,
<br />Oozing sugar and chocolate and wonder and hope.
<br />Now things have changed.
<br />Life just snuck in and throttled us while we were doing other things.
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Philip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-75698106944293680572011-03-09T22:56:00.000-08:002011-03-09T22:58:07.135-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgOJsEjVWNXwSQVL9paT-LpoeoOLc1yfUMaq9Caws8LLiBHXyeiF9xLSUaD4Aq4PWqxq6a7xYm_-ClZU8A25dpzWwy4t7sTExtrDdR4q-1fvaex4ZYm5ncebHiUxqTJq_3f0zElZpU57I/s1600/Philip+Cairns+2011+headshot.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 324px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgOJsEjVWNXwSQVL9paT-LpoeoOLc1yfUMaq9Caws8LLiBHXyeiF9xLSUaD4Aq4PWqxq6a7xYm_-ClZU8A25dpzWwy4t7sTExtrDdR4q-1fvaex4ZYm5ncebHiUxqTJq_3f0zElZpU57I/s400/Philip+Cairns+2011+headshot.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582341827590098898" /></a><br /><br />This is my new acting headshot for 2011.<br /><br />Photo by the fabulous Maylynn Quan.Philip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-33846997788693223432011-03-08T22:56:00.000-08:002011-03-08T22:57:13.498-08:00Check out my paintings and drawings on this site.Please scroll down to view my recent paintings and drawings.<br />Thanks.Philip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-88237085797248425922011-03-08T22:54:00.000-08:002011-03-08T22:55:53.937-08:00Acrylic painting #10 by Philip Cairns<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIw8k2VoAmtY9_Zari5kBA8dukf9CZ6rfXJld3Ubc6L_ZOkgaYOtdyTUXYzwycEyPjxC1hf9hJJdRY7Ds79qZsNE4FWSDZJbaX9SRcJM_KX_oXn7gFAzH0DpdHxiDaGlzC3iuBzdPWdKg/s1600/Painting10web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIw8k2VoAmtY9_Zari5kBA8dukf9CZ6rfXJld3Ubc6L_ZOkgaYOtdyTUXYzwycEyPjxC1hf9hJJdRY7Ds79qZsNE4FWSDZJbaX9SRcJM_KX_oXn7gFAzH0DpdHxiDaGlzC3iuBzdPWdKg/s400/Painting10web.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581970289980044082" /></a><br /><br />Image copyright 2011 by Philip CairnsPhilip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-14860849975107821692011-03-08T22:51:00.001-08:002011-03-08T22:53:53.924-08:00Another coloured pencil drawing #2 by Philip Cairns<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB_gsnRCbAWBag6crXBG3pVzfhZ2t85cB8wCNlkTIEZZdT0GhBm5n1JUM68_Z0FGTO1DMJofkfiOrAS2xeAcnCv0uh-zxAj92FzDKMZI79vCBn4dvFCX9rOOTTxfUObvII3dwFUivKuKU/s1600/blondewoman.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 252px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB_gsnRCbAWBag6crXBG3pVzfhZ2t85cB8wCNlkTIEZZdT0GhBm5n1JUM68_Z0FGTO1DMJofkfiOrAS2xeAcnCv0uh-zxAj92FzDKMZI79vCBn4dvFCX9rOOTTxfUObvII3dwFUivKuKU/s400/blondewoman.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581969730124076914" /></a><br /><br />Title -- "Blonde Woman"<br /><br />Image copyright 2011 by Philip CairnsPhilip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-2571011239621267272011-03-08T22:50:00.001-08:002011-03-08T22:51:25.664-08:00Another coloured pencil drawing by Philip Cairns<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAy4hTrDAard8_5QLjzoI35_vKGRpZ4WztrDo0Vsbv5-R2NwOdb20ogk_CBw0s4atj6c2niLKdBxhUlcskQJi2EEJ7xns17B0PQXJYK03AQuM4bhjKRXav1o5U1oP1gXzUtgQEEXfispI/s1600/clarity.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAy4hTrDAard8_5QLjzoI35_vKGRpZ4WztrDo0Vsbv5-R2NwOdb20ogk_CBw0s4atj6c2niLKdBxhUlcskQJi2EEJ7xns17B0PQXJYK03AQuM4bhjKRXav1o5U1oP1gXzUtgQEEXfispI/s400/clarity.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581969097871161074" /></a><br /><br />Title -- "Clarity"<br /><br />Image copyright 2011 by Philip CairnsPhilip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-91112526381839358682011-03-08T22:48:00.000-08:002011-03-08T22:49:55.406-08:00Still another coloured pencil drawing by Philip Cairns<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDDkEp2qi-c0DXYyn0oWbJKasVw4m2sDQrtnh0V0Ia2yr9aYFRgBvmNjhKdvQA3D0HJwZT9iSbfUUys9FSffUINdrvA7yI556cC4kCILLT3vi_WVMJXcnU3foLKZ3rtEwTBxnK4uXUE8o/s1600/Dame.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDDkEp2qi-c0DXYyn0oWbJKasVw4m2sDQrtnh0V0Ia2yr9aYFRgBvmNjhKdvQA3D0HJwZT9iSbfUUys9FSffUINdrvA7yI556cC4kCILLT3vi_WVMJXcnU3foLKZ3rtEwTBxnK4uXUE8o/s400/Dame.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581968695747322562" /></a><br /><br />Title -- "Dame"<br /><br />Image copyright 2011 by Philip CairnsPhilip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-86649778212644914312011-03-08T22:47:00.001-08:002011-03-08T22:48:35.554-08:00Another coloured pencil drawing by Philip Cairns<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimqecsemtH5RGFdq9FmXEHTMFQSphSsUQbppiiK0Gsz7f72MpNy_qSuMqdGVQuBCeum0W2ZrD2G9JGLwYdQoKghw-4Vx_XxVfb-XktrkAu9KHyDa-pYcWPhZ5YbNW8Uxh63o1RrMFifm8/s1600/deep-in-the-forest.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimqecsemtH5RGFdq9FmXEHTMFQSphSsUQbppiiK0Gsz7f72MpNy_qSuMqdGVQuBCeum0W2ZrD2G9JGLwYdQoKghw-4Vx_XxVfb-XktrkAu9KHyDa-pYcWPhZ5YbNW8Uxh63o1RrMFifm8/s400/deep-in-the-forest.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581968347366255138" /></a><br /><br />Title -- "Deep in the Forest"<br /><br />Image copyright 2011 by Philip CairnsPhilip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-14271691107021761692011-03-08T22:45:00.000-08:002011-03-08T22:47:07.225-08:00Coloured pencil drawing by Philip Cairns<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNEi_zFddRkA807BtqW3HNDmrYjbhUEFwCBEyWaWjHnPntIT1LpnSDrt1QP7LtZSAGtTl7qlbr1YP-hkeuoxeTHlD-KXPsza0LF6UO2cFE003bncOHqfEimRgYNbbhHnBHVpkOgQ5NBRk/s1600/SmokyChanteuse.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNEi_zFddRkA807BtqW3HNDmrYjbhUEFwCBEyWaWjHnPntIT1LpnSDrt1QP7LtZSAGtTl7qlbr1YP-hkeuoxeTHlD-KXPsza0LF6UO2cFE003bncOHqfEimRgYNbbhHnBHVpkOgQ5NBRk/s400/SmokyChanteuse.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581967937594579618" /></a><br /><br />Title-- "Smoky Chanteuse"<br /><br />Image copyright 2011 by Philip CairnsPhilip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-28344212226811173892011-03-08T22:44:00.000-08:002011-03-08T22:45:42.116-08:00Acrylic on paper painting #5 by Philip Cairns<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifBAgHmHeLpkcMpKLfumlatEDIR5sjrYKTtMvO69q7eMah4ipf1st6xihG2VB2l9K9JMkQqnKv3oWtujZzZjIDJEZsZBCHb0Bd85HF-YUVcvIznhk4lB9Ynisl_bIqCnzXRq_UUgDmdFA/s1600/Painting27web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 292px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifBAgHmHeLpkcMpKLfumlatEDIR5sjrYKTtMvO69q7eMah4ipf1st6xihG2VB2l9K9JMkQqnKv3oWtujZzZjIDJEZsZBCHb0Bd85HF-YUVcvIznhk4lB9Ynisl_bIqCnzXRq_UUgDmdFA/s400/Painting27web.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581967557429872738" /></a><br /><br />Image copyright 2011 by Philip CairnsPhilip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-71971341291767394762011-03-08T22:43:00.001-08:002011-03-08T22:44:26.047-08:00Acrylic on paper painting #4 by Philip Cairns<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2JFmAKm1kpZottinWiJb15wAr8L8AENX-sjYF02WrhcL3RVLaZH-pVdHJscBAOe1r9Z5jVlnllKLUeXd8-rTLzyOA8Btw26CAoVwv9GjZ8EoYQdx85wLGRVQFR8KOG9IN3YHe3yGRiPM/s1600/Painting26web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 297px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2JFmAKm1kpZottinWiJb15wAr8L8AENX-sjYF02WrhcL3RVLaZH-pVdHJscBAOe1r9Z5jVlnllKLUeXd8-rTLzyOA8Btw26CAoVwv9GjZ8EoYQdx85wLGRVQFR8KOG9IN3YHe3yGRiPM/s400/Painting26web.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581967227218232754" /></a><br /><br />Image copyright 2011 by Philip CairnsPhilip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-33173157851291135862011-03-08T22:40:00.000-08:002011-03-08T22:41:25.419-08:00Acrylic on paper painting #3 by Philip Cairns<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipWd7nhHXqgnYB4N8ftXkt6_mN1p7qC3vuQLBc9mP0DKDfbnpdpwOzsq-Mj3yzOHVVZ0sESrs3ZIx0L2CZJN99S-eL52FjsCdivHbo5pH_ComsrLVF7eghxgYuCnxZ7J2OoGyP_4DmUKs/s1600/Painting25web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipWd7nhHXqgnYB4N8ftXkt6_mN1p7qC3vuQLBc9mP0DKDfbnpdpwOzsq-Mj3yzOHVVZ0sESrs3ZIx0L2CZJN99S-eL52FjsCdivHbo5pH_ComsrLVF7eghxgYuCnxZ7J2OoGyP_4DmUKs/s400/Painting25web.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581966434932074690" /></a><br /><br />Image copyright 2011 by Philip CairnsPhilip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-49305271908900545072011-03-08T22:39:00.000-08:002011-03-08T22:42:09.864-08:00Acrylic on paper painting #2 by Philip Cairns<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6V8bc3CEFkmRKGW2JUgM4hI9LA7QEe6boCQvbKPNqzY6Ezs3vSqH_jvXjv4ihlwKCqhEgNc4XY4Zv6M0w92UXTI7efBAuURhcsnIyad0E_ZgDEQ4DZ9IsmA4duLyLNTbf8HevYh9ezV0/s1600/painting13web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6V8bc3CEFkmRKGW2JUgM4hI9LA7QEe6boCQvbKPNqzY6Ezs3vSqH_jvXjv4ihlwKCqhEgNc4XY4Zv6M0w92UXTI7efBAuURhcsnIyad0E_ZgDEQ4DZ9IsmA4duLyLNTbf8HevYh9ezV0/s400/painting13web.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581966155084919234" /></a><br /><br />Image copyright 2011 by Philip CairnsPhilip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-67213304392946645572011-03-08T22:29:00.000-08:002011-03-08T22:41:46.848-08:00Acrylic on paper painting #1 by Philip Cairns<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjXqrkKYbqkLOPZQYTbauB3bH8xDngLxQrhOUImWltgNalJ2uXfu8B5hniP6HB2e6TOamJ-3r1XempH3vJzx4xElecDzj0L6vOGDR8cO6wnJKpbUtFI-HOUDMrorhO3dwZWXKYonQpMw/s1600/Painting11web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjXqrkKYbqkLOPZQYTbauB3bH8xDngLxQrhOUImWltgNalJ2uXfu8B5hniP6HB2e6TOamJ-3r1XempH3vJzx4xElecDzj0L6vOGDR8cO6wnJKpbUtFI-HOUDMrorhO3dwZWXKYonQpMw/s400/Painting11web.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581965641676309746" /></a><br /><br />Image copyright 2011 by Philip CairnsPhilip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-72065599923912176882011-01-08T19:57:00.001-08:002011-01-08T20:03:44.016-08:00ETERNAL AUGUST<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWyGhUWy3v-dOP0DpeTszmJEwFMmscrBmDwzMLw1iiAzxr8ewukE6wJ6IA_L9DJ9bENq4k8g5b6-kzF8JtQR6KxOzLR0HHO3xbG586rSQRvxAgo-hwTMZvMADejGj1SVghX9RYDS5qhRg/s1600/Cornwall+15.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWyGhUWy3v-dOP0DpeTszmJEwFMmscrBmDwzMLw1iiAzxr8ewukE6wJ6IA_L9DJ9bENq4k8g5b6-kzF8JtQR6KxOzLR0HHO3xbG586rSQRvxAgo-hwTMZvMADejGj1SVghX9RYDS5qhRg/s400/Cornwall+15.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560031957281694658" /></a><br />ETERNAL AUGUST<br />By Philip Cairns<br />Copyright 2011 by Philip Cairns<br /><br />Trudging and sliding through the newly fallen January snow,<br />I’m thinking wistfully of hot August walks by the lake.<br />Sun beating down on my bronzed, porous skin.<br />Sunglasses and baseball cap shielding me from the rays.<br /><br />Watching a group of young guys laughing and playing in the warm water.<br />Runners and cyclists zooming by on the bike path beside Lake Ontario.<br />Wish I were back there,<br />That broiling site straddling my wistful reverie.<br /><br />Instead, I wear 2 warm sweaters and a long-sleeved shirt under my dark gray winter coat.<br />Long, thick purple scarf wound tightly around my neck. <br />Turquoise knitted cap snugly covering my head.<br />Sharp bites of cold chew ravenously on my numb, curled-up fingers.<br />Firm legs like blocks of ice.<br /><br />No bare chests to ogle as they walk by in their tight, cut-off jeans.<br />Today, everyone looks like a fur trapper.<br /><br />I’m remembering many, many moons ago,<br />Dressed in a red snowsuit,<br />Making angels in the white powder.<br />Smoking candy cigarettes, <br />My breath swirling in the chilled air.<br /><br />Building snowmen in the backyard. <br />Running indoors for hot chocolate and cookies.<br />Snow fights with neighbourhood friends. <br /><br />Today, I’m longing for a sweltering August afternoon.<br />Arriving home with sweat drenched clothes from brisk daily walks.<br />Soaking in the warmth of the day.<br />Feeling at the peak of things.<br />Listening to the rolling rhythm of the tides.<br /><br />No shivering at bus stops at 3 a.m.,<br />Coming home from work.<br />Slush splattered from impatient taxi-cabs.<br />Twisting my ankle in the colourless blankets covering the sidewalk’s flaws. <br /><br />Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster making out on the beach<br />In “From Here to Eternity”.<br />Burt almost naked in his skin tight black swimsuit.<br />Deborah’s back totally bare.<br />Sweaty, carnal and erotic.<br /><br />It wouldn’t be the same if they were recumbent in a blizzard,<br />Covered in fur from head to toe like two Inuit elders.<br />Prudish and chaste.<br />The wind howling round their butts.<br />No, not a classic love scene, at all.<br /><br />In January, it would take them 10 minutes to undress<br />Before they made love. <br />Swim trunks come off in one second flat. <br /><br />Give me eternal August.<br />Sweet and gentle.<br />Soothing sunshine every day.<br />Snow a putrid, distant memory.<br />No leaky boots to contend with. <br />No frosty penis from a late night pee beside an oak tree.<br />No chilled fingers and toes.<br /><br />Just the soft swoosh of the green-gray tides.<br />Fiery red sun.<br />Packs of smiling faces playing volleyball in the burning sand.<br />Bare feet splashing in the surf.<br />The world a spinning prism of clear, bright crystal.Philip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-34287183570638136502010-11-29T20:40:00.000-08:002010-11-29T20:44:26.528-08:00WELCOME TO THE 21ST CENTURY<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitOcJrjoofKRUIinKiors8Iiipnz_BSb5thSR3Xxpsl8kW9XCLRBWeJU5mYAIHC-SO4j_gL_IKN2Xs67A5RASXMuVi0rgtkg8ra082J3rjasLEOnnxJSECMEb3pITeOxRaOtD6reQQp4c/s1600/Big+Sur%252C+California.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitOcJrjoofKRUIinKiors8Iiipnz_BSb5thSR3Xxpsl8kW9XCLRBWeJU5mYAIHC-SO4j_gL_IKN2Xs67A5RASXMuVi0rgtkg8ra082J3rjasLEOnnxJSECMEb3pITeOxRaOtD6reQQp4c/s400/Big+Sur%252C+California.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545198907121481314" /></a><br />Monday, November 29, 2010 <br /><br />WELCOME TO THE 21ST CENTURY<br /><br />By Philip Cairns<br /><br />Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns<br /><br />Outside Buckingham Palace,<br />A Little Person terrorist dresses up as an 8 year old girl.<br />He hands a bouquet of explosive-ridden violets to the Queen.<br />In response, Elizabeth smiles serenely.<br />Both people are blown to bits,<br />Along with hundreds of screaming spectators.<br /><br />Blood and green guts fly through the air,<br />As well as silver helmets and horses’ hooves.<br />The Queen’s diamond tiara lands on a Bobby’s head.<br />Eyeballs rocket upwards and in every direction.<br />Welcome to the 21st Century.<br /><br />Manned spaceships land on Pluto.<br />Scandinavians, in particular, like to vacation on Jupiter’s rings. <br />Vaginaplasty operations become puzzlingly fashionable in hot climates, <br />Replacing scarlet Mohawks as a youthful fashion statement.<br />Who would’ve thought?!<br />Welcome to the 21st Century.<br /><br />Severed limbs rejuvenate themselves<br />As the result of new wonder drugs.<br />Millions of people have their pubic hair removed by electrolysis. <br />Teleportation is the only way to fly.<br />Welcome to the 21st Century.<br /><br />Wars and disease are a thing of the past.<br />We all speak in a politically correct manner.<br />Racial prejudice ceases to exist. <br />Jesus and Buddha and Adolf Hitler all rise up from the dead.<br />Welcome to the 21st Century.<br /><br />Homophobia is a distant memory for one and all.<br />Slasher films are banned.<br />All copies of “Night of the Living Dead” disintegrate.<br />Liquid love is poured into the drinking water.<br />Teenage lust runs out of control resulting in millions of unwanted bastards.<br />Welcome to the 21st Century.<br /><br />Actors are no longer forced to take hideous telemarketing jobs between gigs.<br />Everyone on the planet has more than enough to eat.<br />Pure spring water is in abundance for all. <br />A band of pure love and truth surrounds the planet.<br />Crime is a thing of the past.<br />Welcome to the 21st Century.<br /><br />Depression vanishes.<br />Mental illness is no more.<br />Child slavery is gone in a puff of smoke.<br />Menstrual cycles are no longer necessary.<br />Anyone can live in a warm climate, beside the ocean, if they really want to.<br />Poetry is the new language of the masses.<br />Welcome, welcome, welcome to the new century.<br /><br />Clear skin is the order of the day.<br />Sexual fulfillment reigns supreme.<br />Everything and everyone is perfect in every single way.<br />Hitler soon melts, like the Wicked Witch of the West.<br />Judy Garland songs are played in hundreds of thousands of elevators and malls.<br />Through extraordinary technology, new Marilyn Monroe movies appear almost every day.<br />Welcome to the new digital century.<br /><br />No more famine, sex slavery, oppression or exploitation.<br />No hunger or pain. No overdue credit card bills.<br />No unpaid mortgages or weeping widows.<br />Blinding sunlight illuminates Earth,<br />Putting a Vitamin D smile on our faces.<br />A tofu chicken in every aluminum-free pot. <br />Welcome to the 21st Century.<br />Welcome to the New Millennium.<br />Welcome to a Republican’s worst nightmare. <br />Welcome to my hopes and dreams.Philip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-50725075115039036632010-08-26T21:23:00.000-07:002010-08-26T21:25:32.294-07:00LOOKING FOR SOLITUDE IN MOONLAKE LAGOON<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGcq39xzVavyVzkGU2n5ylT_NQfvb8v3xCD7wng8NYMNrN8-SUN7SINK2PfWfYaja2GRweq9oqQRscs_8eBALH28wMlP07hz4vbR0fapZvQXWnNoIZ-0IIgroYTGwR0bTJXA8Z6EO6wXo/s1600/Marilyn+Bell+Park+5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGcq39xzVavyVzkGU2n5ylT_NQfvb8v3xCD7wng8NYMNrN8-SUN7SINK2PfWfYaja2GRweq9oqQRscs_8eBALH28wMlP07hz4vbR0fapZvQXWnNoIZ-0IIgroYTGwR0bTJXA8Z6EO6wXo/s400/Marilyn+Bell+Park+5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509941074389780530" /></a><br />Thursday, August 26, 2010/Friday, August 27, 2010<br /><br />LOOKING FOR SOLITUDE IN MOONLAKE LAGOON<br /><br />By Philip Cairns<br /><br />Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns<br /><br />It’s a busy early evening in Marilyn Bell Park.<br />Hunky young joggers are getting in shape.<br />Bicycles whizz by.<br />Couples parade along the boardwalk.<br />Mothers are holding babies in the sun.<br />I’m walking very quickly,<br />Trying to keep in shape, soaking it all in.<br /><br />The swans look gorgeous as they drift along the waves.<br />What do animals think about,<br />Besides food and mating and staying safe?<br />I guess I’ll never know.<br /><br />Now, I’ve moved on to a secluded bench, beside the water. <br />Marilyn Bell Park is not even visible from here.<br />In this lagoon, near the Legion Hall,<br />There are very few people around.<br />Sailboats and yachts rest on the lake.<br />Some are on land, as well, <br />Asleep behind a chain-link fence. <br /><br />A cute dark-haired guy and his wet dog keep running by,<br />Back and forth,<br />Irritating the hell out of me.<br />I wish they would just leave me in peace.<br /><br />The lake is very calm, today.<br />It’s a deep blue shade.<br />Very placid and still.<br />The sun beats down on my exposed arms and face.<br />It feels so soothing.<br />I want to drink in as much as I can before it sets.<br /><br />Farther down the beach, <br />An Asian woman stands on a large fallen tree,<br />Close to the shore.<br />A small sailboat lifts anchor and wafts slowly away.<br />Thank God the man and his dog finally leave.<br /><br />The sun’s reflection looks like huge diamonds floating on the surface of the water.<br />The sand shifts beneath my feet, when I move.<br />I just want to be alone with the warm sun and my chilly thoughts.<br /><br />Two young women in black T-shirts burst through the bushes.<br />They hover near me,<br />Then make their way out to a boulder in the water.<br />Their chattering grates on my nerves.<br />Is this the only place they can find in the whole beach<br />To enjoy the fading day?<br /><br />I move away to the fallen log, further down the beach,<br />To find a little peace.<br />The tides are silent, at this moment.<br />Seagulls scream as they fly in circles.<br />Waves of strong emotion pour over me.<br /><br />Two boys on bikes greet the young women<br />And join them on the rocks.<br />I’ve had enough of this spot,<br />For one day.<br /><br />I can see the stones resting in the silt at the bottom of the lake.<br />If I were alone,<br />I would be much happier.<br />Yes, it’s definitely time to get up and continue my daily trek.Philip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-10492365351827089362010-08-25T19:07:00.000-07:002010-08-25T19:09:27.993-07:00TENNYSON DOWN<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSreUPS1vaOP1fthVqg8U31Xj9fh-ffi7nbVtne3H7opIeoVI2Su85dbC4wUtdXbYbDQEzX-N55240YBYRLicE5dsCmswrAJtT3_e9qAfPH-UxZ8HhMQCkY-XmCgEPVxF09vNAwnenj4/s1600/Tennyson+Down+%232.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSreUPS1vaOP1fthVqg8U31Xj9fh-ffi7nbVtne3H7opIeoVI2Su85dbC4wUtdXbYbDQEzX-N55240YBYRLicE5dsCmswrAJtT3_e9qAfPH-UxZ8HhMQCkY-XmCgEPVxF09vNAwnenj4/s400/Tennyson+Down+%232.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509534674704332866" /></a><br />Sunday, August 22, 2010<br /><br />TENNYSON DOWN<br /><br />By Philip Cairns<br /><br />Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns<br /><br />I’m remembering Tennyson Down on the Isle of Wight,<br />Back when I was 17.<br />I went there, in the summer of 1971, <br />With my best friend from public school, Ian Dennis.<br /><br />He moved back to England in 1967,<br />When I was in Grade 9,<br />And I found no one to replace him.<br />I learned, at a young age, <br />To fend for myself.<br /><br />On Tennyson Down,<br />The water sparkled like rare diamonds.<br />Undines danced on top of the waves.<br />It was a magical, mystical place.<br />A sacred site, if ever there was one.<br /><br />Walking on the hills,<br />Stepping over the omnipresent goose shit,<br />I felt pure peace and serenity,<br />As if I were truly at one with the Universe.<br /><br />I stood on the cliffs,<br />Looking out at the ocean,<br />And felt wondrously in touch with the Divine.<br />The Goddess was whispering in my ear.<br />Pan was prancing across the hills,<br />Playing his joyous music.<br /><br />Today, almost 40 years later,<br />It’s wet, overcast and gloomy in Toronto.<br />The dark clouds pray on my heart and soul.<br /><br />I wish I were walking on Tennyson Down,<br />Right this very second,<br />With not a care in the world.<br />My heart full of the mysteries of life,<br />Communing with the undines and the water sprites.<br />I swear I actually saw them<br />Glittering and dancing on the tides in the warm sun.Philip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-44880001496352625212010-08-25T19:06:00.000-07:002010-08-25T19:07:41.204-07:00SAD DAY BY THE LAKE<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Nl47RnIppYYm3nKfsjJ6MU3do1e5SRnlVfaae2ZfKq8qmwneAYYV267v7-kGT8XA1azxVzkhs4R2mWC1eg0CbPJzQnwoxecb9LHt5kZu2Fi8PY954EaOxNyVSNXTyeG7OwkHJpic-PI/s1600/Lake+Ontario+5.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Nl47RnIppYYm3nKfsjJ6MU3do1e5SRnlVfaae2ZfKq8qmwneAYYV267v7-kGT8XA1azxVzkhs4R2mWC1eg0CbPJzQnwoxecb9LHt5kZu2Fi8PY954EaOxNyVSNXTyeG7OwkHJpic-PI/s400/Lake+Ontario+5.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509534336899324914" /></a><br />Friday, August 20, 2010<br /><br />SAD DAY BY THE LAKE<br /><br />By Philip Cairns<br /><br />Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns<br /><br />Today is a very grey day.<br />The melancholy sun is hidden behind clouds.<br />The lake doesn’t sparkle as much as usual.<br />It’s chilly outside.<br /><br />It’s still August.<br />The first day of the CNE.<br />But I smell fall in the air,<br />That leads to hideous winter,<br />A season I’ve never come to terms with.<br /><br />The blues are washing over me.<br />I thought a long walk would pick up my spirits.<br />Alas, it’s not to be.<br /><br />I sit beside Lake Ontario,<br />Worrying about the future.<br />Dreading another miserable winter to live through.<br />Even in the south of France,<br />It can be chilly after dark.<br /><br />I wish the sun would peek out from behind the thick clouds.<br />Two ducks have swum to shore.<br />They’re cleaning their feathers,<br />A few yards from my feet.<br />One of them has a lovely patch of deep purple<br />Mixed in with the grey and white down.<br /><br />I feel honoured just to sit and watch them primping and cleaning themselves,<br />As if I was privy to a private moment of theirs.<br />There are no people swimming or walking on the beach.<br /><br />I’m wishing I had a new life.<br />Less struggle.<br />More money.<br />Some security.<br />It’s funny how a cloudy day can spin out your moods<br />Into a delicate, fretful place.<br /><br />Today, the tides still sound beautiful,<br />But I’m wishing I was somewhere far away.<br />Fifteen years ago, I used to come here <br />And read Occult books about Witchcraft, Wicca and Voodoo.<br />I’d lost the confidence to write.<br /><br />The seagull sits on a rock,<br />Perhaps hoping I’ll feed it.<br />She has no knowledge of this blackness<br />That’s descended on me this early evening.<br />If I don’t snap out of it,<br />I may burst into tears.<br /><br />I recall the way I felt as a child,<br />When summer was near its end.<br />I hated going back to school.<br />Boring homework,<br />Taunting schoolmates,<br />Sadistic teachers.<br /><br />The sun is finally peeking out<br />From behind the dark clouds.<br />In the distance, the water is sparkling, at last, near the shore.<br />Today is a bleak, mournful day.<br />I don’t want the summer to end.Philip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-28473188807065851822010-08-25T19:04:00.000-07:002010-08-25T19:14:03.502-07:00THE SUMMER SUN<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiitj1cGb3jW_i-bIscsbkIlce9n3iehkwm2P2XmJ__GIK7dGkIkcoUTZU38ubKIhySJyUTExnbcr9YQQg1Ykw215JfVjMPXob9EwOJHJhCjIco0Mhyphenhyphen12fcwMTjioBfNfS2v_T4O4YRizw/s1600/98.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiitj1cGb3jW_i-bIscsbkIlce9n3iehkwm2P2XmJ__GIK7dGkIkcoUTZU38ubKIhySJyUTExnbcr9YQQg1Ykw215JfVjMPXob9EwOJHJhCjIco0Mhyphenhyphen12fcwMTjioBfNfS2v_T4O4YRizw/s400/98.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509536097893852626" /></a><br />Thursday, August 19, 2010<br /><br />THE SUMMER SUN<br /><br />By Philip Cairns<br /><br />Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns<br /><br />The ducks sit contently by the shore of the lake,<br />All puffed up,<br />Happily sunning themselves.<br />I know how they feel.<br /><br />Two of them stand near me in the sand,<br />While the tides tickle their webbed feet.<br />They’re not fearful when they look at me.<br />I say hello and they turn their heads in my direction.<br />Wish I had some food to give them.<br />One of them swims out a little further to join his friends.<br /><br />The sun beating down feels marvellous on my skin.<br />A perfect moment in the city.<br />I’m sitting on my favourite bench,<br />Four feet from the water.<br /><br />Further down the beach,<br />A gaggle of boys swim in the lake,<br />Their skin burnished by the sun.<br />The traffic on Lakeshore Boulevard, behind me,<br />Is like white noise.<br />It doesn’t bother me.<br /><br />The slap-slap of the tides<br />Tingles my innards,<br />Like an hour of Hatha Yoga.<br />I feel as if I were lying on a mat in class,<br />My back against the floor,<br />Breathing slowly,<br />With New Age music wafting softly across the room.<br /><br />The white boats bobble in the water.<br />I miss the hot sun so much in the winter.<br />Life would be so different if every month were summer,<br />Like this.<br /><br />I could sit on this bench, by the lake,<br />For endless hours,<br />Drinking in the warm rays<br />And listening to the calming sound of the tides.<br />The gentle clanging of the masts,<br />Jangling in the breeze,<br />Sound like Asian wind chimes.<br /><br />I’m not lonely or sad.<br />Just sucking in the beauty of mid-August,<br />In a troubled world,<br />With a few rain clouds over-head<br />To keep me grounded on this earth.<br /><br />The water looks almost white,<br />From where I sit,<br />With some swirls of grey.<br />Life is good,<br />At this moment,<br />But tomorrow is another day.Philip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-39913493671286569342010-08-25T19:03:00.000-07:002010-08-25T23:11:00.954-07:00THE WATER'S EDGE<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdieaz38WZ3ZXYw9iTlFQNCwVCKoUzPbG6UWinFbDp_-IOWViSgTwt9ehJ4sVCYOZ_RNfJGqbrnZMK0JUwSW_Y_PYtkBYjN322Cudp03X6CJD3xftEfGjwTwSjkvMCdT6nX0FWKuJcpwg/s1600/Lake+Ontario+11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdieaz38WZ3ZXYw9iTlFQNCwVCKoUzPbG6UWinFbDp_-IOWViSgTwt9ehJ4sVCYOZ_RNfJGqbrnZMK0JUwSW_Y_PYtkBYjN322Cudp03X6CJD3xftEfGjwTwSjkvMCdT6nX0FWKuJcpwg/s400/Lake+Ontario+11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509597172004430098" /></a><br />Monday, August 16, 2010<br /><br />THE WATER’S EDGE<br /><br />By Philip Cairns<br /><br />Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns<br /><br />The lake is such an extraordinary colour, this evening.<br />A shiny blue-black shade of slate<br />With splashes of light dancing on its surface.<br />Oh, what Emily Carr could paint, if she were here!<br />The sun is starting to set <br />Behind the roof of the Boulevard Club.<br /><br />I am flying high!<br />If I close my eyes,<br />I can pretend I’m in the beach house<br />In the Joan Crawford film noir, “Mildred Pierce”.<br />I adore old movies as much as I cherish this lake.<br /><br />Two placid ducks splash by.<br />I’m sure they never discuss, through telepathy, <br />How polluted the lake has become.<br />If it were 1737,<br />The water would be cerulean blue, topaz or azure coloured.<br /><br />A plastic food container and an empty pop bottle bob around near the shore,<br />Telling me for sure that I am not a Native North American,<br />300 years ago.<br /><br />Listening to the tide is my current drug of choice.<br />The sound makes my heart chakra speed up and spin.<br />Water is the most glorious thing in the world<br />To an Aquarius, like me.<br />I get some great ideas just standing beneath the shower<br />In my tiny jewel of an apartment.<br /><br />If I shut my eyes, right at this moment,<br />I can drift off to another place:<br />Hawaii, Tahiti, the Amazon, Malibu,<br />Or I can simply be content to just breathe in the essence of this very place.<br /><br />Every cell in my body is vibrating at a higher frequency,<br />Speeded up by the adrenaline of my daily walk.<br />My love for this lagoon is very strong,<br />Plopped down, as it is, on the edge of this wild and crazy city.<br /><br />This has been a wonderful summer, <br />Primarily because of this lake<br />And the peace and joy that it gives back to me.<br /><br />I can’t afford a plane ticket to exotic locales,<br />At this present time.<br />It doesn’t cost a nickel to <br />Haul my ass down to the water’s edge<br />In the heat of the day.<br /><br />I wish I could describe how these tides make me feel.<br />“Happy” is one word that seems to fit.<br />I used to think I needed so much more than this.Philip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-76810531603447234602010-08-25T19:01:00.001-07:002010-08-25T23:02:23.959-07:00THE LAKE<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIwqeDyU7WEQtw36UIw2w_-N2k0EZFldegjq3T8zhzvrExMDmZzF1RS6gWdxbNKV5mmfOyLAk8j6Jq1l1O-ZNSPUhWVKUU1FJbtaaUYyTo14GNjzyKuGh4HizhY8VUebyLv77nUv4PWqs/s1600/Marilyn+Bell+Park+3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIwqeDyU7WEQtw36UIw2w_-N2k0EZFldegjq3T8zhzvrExMDmZzF1RS6gWdxbNKV5mmfOyLAk8j6Jq1l1O-ZNSPUhWVKUU1FJbtaaUYyTo14GNjzyKuGh4HizhY8VUebyLv77nUv4PWqs/s400/Marilyn+Bell+Park+3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509594936773767186" /></a><br />Sunday, August 15, 2010<br /><br />THE LAKE<br /><br />By Philip Cairns<br /><br />Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns<br /><br />The geese are quacking and squawking like crazy,<br />As I walk along the grass, not too far from the lake.<br />Do they feel that I’m intruding on their turf?<br /><br />A sudden downpour forces me to take refuge in a cramped, smelly Port-A-Potty.<br />Better that than being drenched.<br />These daily walks in the bright sunshine fortify my soul,<br />Down to the marrow.<br /><br />When I walk through the CNE,<br />I always stop to pray at the stone sculpture of Pan,<br />My very favourite God.<br />Pan enjoys his existence,<br />Scampering in the forest and playing his merry pipes.<br /><br />Now, I sit on a park bench.<br />My shoes are two feet from the tide.<br />Someone moved it to this present and glorious location.<br />It was never this close to the water, before.<br /><br />I look out at the boats and yachts in this beautiful lagoon.<br />The sun has gone behind a huge, grey cloud.<br />I’m drifting back to the sea at Cannes,<br />During the film festival.<br />Some of those yachts looked like the Queen Mary.<br />The constant parade of people on the Croisette,<br />With the hucksters and the buskers,<br />Reminds me of the CNE in late August.<br /><br />Here, in Toronto, beside the lake,<br />The water soothes me.<br />Calms my silly storms.<br /><br />I wish I had a house by the sea,<br />With no financial worries,<br />And constant love and contentment swirling inside its walls.<br />I feel like sitting here for decades.<br /><br />These moments are so pure and pristine.<br />Smooth and supple as a baby’s skin.<br />No negativity to stain and electrocute the air.<br />It would be lovely to paint this scene, one day.<br />Green trees, sparkling water, the white of the boats.<br />The deep browns of the sand.<br /><br />I’m transported to other places,<br />If only for brief moments, here and there.<br />Life is constant struggle,<br />When I leave this sacred space.<br />Pan, please answer my reasonable prayers.<br />You are my hope and salvation.<br /><br />The sun comes out, again,<br />Leaving spots on my eyes,<br />When I look into its core.<br />The waves slap against the shore.<br />I love the gorgeous, lilting sound.<br /><br />I don’t want to leave this safe place, though I must.<br />My life awaits me,<br />Back in the real world.<br />Soon, I must get up and move.<br />Thank you, Goddess, <br />For this momentary refuge.Philip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-13049324606539031612010-08-25T18:59:00.000-07:002010-08-25T23:04:45.594-07:00DOWN BY ONTARIO PLACE<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYKAqDal590MZFeG4a6-GdW4zz7XhxTsRsxABGhCrX5qH7GEeNrwnSizuX8j_LJCzXnhSb1GFyPecm7gIdCMlJ0dWAwdblhvd9_-N-4Y3JqJbqRJGh8J4brNI39O-8f_575anoH9UN7iA/s1600/Marilyn+Bell+Park+4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYKAqDal590MZFeG4a6-GdW4zz7XhxTsRsxABGhCrX5qH7GEeNrwnSizuX8j_LJCzXnhSb1GFyPecm7gIdCMlJ0dWAwdblhvd9_-N-4Y3JqJbqRJGh8J4brNI39O-8f_575anoH9UN7iA/s400/Marilyn+Bell+Park+4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509595462338207778<br />" /></a><br />Thursday, July 22, 2010<br /><br />DOWN BY ONTARIO PLACE<br /><br />By Philip Cairns<br /><br />Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns<br /><br />In romance, all the best ones are taken.<br />What’s left are the abusive, coke-addicted sociopaths.<br />Why get involved with sticks of dynamite?<br />Maybe it’s the blind, hot sex.<br />Or, sometimes, they’re the only game in town.<br /><br />It’s very gorgeous sitting beside the lake<br />With pen in hand<br />And the hot sun beating down upon me.<br />The water is a deep, inky, blue-black colour.<br /><br />Helicopters fly over-head.<br />Geese quack as they float by.<br />Words fly out of my brain. <br />I can pretend that I’m rich,<br />In the south of France,<br />Buying expensive trinkets to take back to my villa by the sea.<br />Or I can just sit here,<br />Soaking in the exquisite melting beauty of the July day.<br /><br />Learning lines for a play,<br />Is not as much fun as doing lines with a straw.<br />The former is better for your brain, though.<br />Life is a very quirky deal.<br /><br />The geese are squawking away,<br />Like a symphonic cacophony.<br />They sound like singers warming up before a show.<br />What has thrilled them so,<br />As they drift by in the dirty, murky fluid?<br /><br />This enormous lake must have been incredibly pure and perfect<br />Two hundred years in the past.<br />Those were hardy, trying days<br />For the people who lived beside it.<br />No machines to make life easier.<br />No electronic entertainment.<br /><br />I’m hearing the strains of sweet music in my head,<br />At a down-home barn dance long ago.<br />Woven straw hats.<br />The smell of hay and a Mr. Greenjeans look-alike<br />Playing the fiddle and tapping his foot to the beat.<br /><br />That was the equivalent of Internet dating,<br />Meeting a new beau to the sounds of bluegrass music<br />And the swelling aroma of sage.<br /><br />Georgia O’Keefe liked to use pastel shades in her work.<br />Pinks and blues and yellows.<br />Emily Carr was more like Van Gogh.<br />Pulsing colours and swirling, vibrant hues.<br />O’Keefe’s paintings are calming and sexual.<br />Carr’s are passionate and in-your-face.<br />Wish I could afford to buy their masterpieces.<br /><br />The cars whiz by on one side.<br />Lake Ontario sits laughing on the other.<br />It knows it’ll still be here long after I’m gone.<br />My ashes will be poured into its soothing liquid,<br />Just like my mother’s were.<br />Ashes to cigarette ashes, as Jackie B. says.<br />It’s time to continue my walk.Philip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7005005526644065024.post-19067159974210327702010-08-25T18:57:00.001-07:002010-08-25T23:08:04.904-07:00SITTING BESIDE THE LAKE<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFoGuSpdQtdzd8hOJhlqFT9RhfQ989kYJRGYexFXVffTa1Mwdf4fjIn0Yo1uQAi3RaU2LBPm51bUauka-4SM59oaS_729oSRh03MB3XJU5ik-zde-BPOnySzpYab7x3YrcGaEdLCNVLaw/s1600/Lake+Ontario+11.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFoGuSpdQtdzd8hOJhlqFT9RhfQ989kYJRGYexFXVffTa1Mwdf4fjIn0Yo1uQAi3RaU2LBPm51bUauka-4SM59oaS_729oSRh03MB3XJU5ik-zde-BPOnySzpYab7x3YrcGaEdLCNVLaw/s400/Lake+Ontario+11.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509596413997925938" /></a><br />Thursday, April 22, 2010<br /><br />SITTING BESIDE THE LAKE<br /><br />By Philip Cairns<br /><br />Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns<br /><br />The oak tree speaks to me with incandescent whispers.<br />Jewels of delight pour from the depths of her marrow.<br />Sapphires of wisdom shoot from her roots straight into my thumping heart.<br />I’m disappointed, as usual,<br />For we don’t always speak the same language.<br /><br />The blue-grey water saunters by,<br />Minding her own business.<br />A nasty, aggressive goose keeps attacking its fellow citizens,<br />Angry for some unfathomable reason.<br />Its squawking disturbs the tranquility of the lake.<br /><br />Seagulls scream when they discover food.<br />A pure white swan dives for fish or just watches the world go by.<br />Pretty under-dressed women rollerblade along the pavement,<br />Chattering and gossiping in a loud, annoying manner.<br />Dark, spooky rainclouds hover ominously in the distance.<br /><br />Despite the drizzle,<br />The sun peaks out,<br />Every once in a while,<br />Just for the hell of it.<br />Far away are tall, swaying buildings.<br /><br />The Goddess manifests herself in blinding sun rays and light blue mist,<br />Way out by the horizon line.<br />I sit pondering the Afterlife and good friends I have known.<br />My dwindling bank balance hovers over my tense shoulders,<br />Preying on my jangling monkey mind.<br /><br />A siren screams in terror as a fit young man rows by,<br />Followed by a bossy guy in a motor boat.<br />A red-winged bird shouts and prances as it digs for food,<br />Calling out to its cohorts.<br /><br />All is calm and peaceful,<br />Despite the highway and the city cacophony in the background.<br />My mind suddenly becomes as still as a meditating yogi,<br />Down by the shimmering lake that I love.<br /><br />We’ve gone through so much together,<br />Over the years.<br />You are my dear companion.<br />Water is my favourite element.<br /><br />Speak to me, again,<br />Beautiful oak tree.<br />This time, I promise to decipher your profound, secret code.Philip Cairnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07053256601972249393noreply@blogger.com0