Poem: A Moment with You.

Cinderella Man As I looked into your icy blue eyes, your instructions were abundantly clear As you touched my skin and whispered the words; I knew it was for a day and not for years As you turned around and walked away, you gave me a smirk that etched in my brain And then there was me standing, wondering, dreaming I pushed the doors with all my might, and the vision of elation sat in front of me like a golden temple With my external armour and the whispers of possibility, I emerged alone My beauty was currency, my charm was wealth, and my fragrance had the flowers bend their ways to reach me The clock tower began to sway and the dial went into slow motion as I could see what no one else could; my external facade was about to crumble The prince didn’t have time to say goodbye and my run through the moonlit Forest became haunting, as each branch and thorn tore my skin, reminding me of who I wasn’t The …

This poem doesn’t need any intro, only that it captures the experience of our human life when moments emerge and we realize beauty and passion is abundant and comes when we least expect it. The Men of Los Lomas Longing for adventure, watching for signs The invitation appeared as an oasis in the parched heat Lust covered me with an insatiable hunger Shimmering sunlight on moist skin; Masculinity and torsos as beautiful as mahogany trees Ocean spray sobering my memory of young love; childhood spirit awaken Did my beauty emerge long enough to remember it? Did I find the men of Los Lomas or did they find me? Missing many words, finding language in sensuality Was it the beginning or the end? Photographs undeveloped; pictures only appear in my dreams My heart ached to say good-bye; the infamous kiss The men of Los Lomas; the men or the metaphor, permanently etched in my heart forever Carl Meadows January 12, 2013

I have travelled the world and been to every continent, and yet the one place in the world that etched its place in my heart forever was Haida Gwaii; The land of the Haida people and the most majestical place on earth. In between the British Columbia coast and the most treacherous ocean on the planet and more ship wrecks than people, there is Haida Gwaii. Haida Gwaii The mist shrouded you like a mystical wonder, Your white peaks scraped the skies Coasts carved by fierce force Juan Perez wondered and left The others left sorrow White man traded you blankets in peace, So they say, as they wiped out your people with scorn and disease Missionaries moved you away from culture that lay So you would be saved Only to have crosses carved on your graves  Land of enchantment, reconciliation and hope Destiny is weighted by the cultures that cope Monster trees gobble the past The spirits and treasures are all that last Be it under the mosses, or the sacrilegious crosses What comes …

We are all products of our experiences as children. I was asked by my coach a few years ago if I could get my Father to describe me as a child in one sentence or less. My father described me as “the most courageous little boy I ever knew, and the most vulnerable; both at the same time”~a paradox. This process inspired a search for the little boy inside of me, named Carlie. Carlie Where did Carlie go, did he disappear? As I stop and remember those long lost years. Holding hands, gumboots traipsing puddles; mesmerized I would have stared at your reflection if I knew it was our last moment together Salt and peppershaker in hand for a birthday suprize Grandma would soon see our accomplishments of the day The only grandfather I knew The hushed sounds, the whispers, something was wrong the untalking was profound The story of the sunlight blinding your eyes, the truck, the accident, my grandfather disappeared Talking late into the night; your life lesson stuck to me like a …

I was coming home one day on the Vancouver Metro when I suddenly became melancholy. It occurred to me that the childhood city I grew up in was disappearing.  The creeks I jumped in, the trees I had climbed, had become either parking lots, new subdivisions or 30 story towers. Missing Blue reflecting blue A scented cedar bow The sound of a cackling raven The great blue heron Catching frogs on the banks Catfish and crayfish Towering grass City in transition again Cranes scratching the sky Jackhammers on pavement Towering glass Missing stillness Underground tunnels Gobbling monster machines Eating cedar, grass and creeks Masses and movement My childhood city Missing Carl Meadows, August 22, 2009

When I was a child around 10 years old I was sexually assaulted. I made a choice many years ago to stop treating it as a dirty secret. Although it had devastating impacts on my self-esteem, it created the man I am today. In the media recently there has been discussions of rape and sexual assault. In my case I was raped by a female (she was our babysitter) over a long period of time. In my view, society has a double standard when it comes to males and rape. The first time I told an adult about the assault, they asked me if the girl was hot; that shut me down for over 20 years. Feel to heal and tell to get well. Stolen Soft skin, curious eyes, tender touch Wanting love; bird with a broken wing Searching, craving, longing Easter egg in a room of hammers Salmon eggs in a river with no water Quenching for tenderness in a house of fists You saw me quivering Stillness of nighttime Taking hand in darkness …