In Place of a Bucket List
Shake hands with any apparition found in your closet. Argue with the hornet to take-up
nailbiting. Lace those tips with nicotine and replace the kitchen knife with a hammer.
Feed the dog. Mirror her grateful prance for nourishment. Take nothing for granted. Do
not hide from the snow in your hair; do not melt it with a glaring bottle.
Read faces. Be curious in near-silence, where energy so diverse you’re years from
draining. Name and rename your body.
Smile to a friend. Draw lists of favorites with your crinkles. Do not stop at top-three,
categorize all back to that morning when the best of days were to you “just being”.
Blink. Inhale. Let thunder crack out your throat as lightning. Do not bitter the coming
rain with expectations past present. This midden gift is without need for future-planning,
or scheduling for curtain fall and nor does it beck and call for nightsworth of encore.
Count tones, memories, and clicks like passing sheep. Give a weather report on ungulate
foot patterns. Sheer your herd to knit a noel sweater.
Drink tea. Smile with yourself. Worry less about which voice is yours. Accept inner
diversity. Call to council an open forum in the bathtub.
Be entertained by bedtime stories. Your own follies are a daytime TV show; do not become
swayed by the commercial breaks.
In Place of a Bucket List was submitted by Sabrina Dahl, a Grade 12 student at Centennial High School in Calgary, AB. It was awarded third place in the Jessamy Stursberg Poetry Contest for Canadian Youth Senior Category.
Blame it on the Weather
for becoming the heavy box
of ripped photographs you’ve pushed
to the back of your mind, and
the reason why
that song’s lyrics never seem
to take refuge between your ears
Maybe one day
we’ll have one more
I can forgive myself for something
you’ve moved on about.
And maybe one day, I’ll turn around
and I’ll see your silhouette
in the puddle of raindrops behind me.
But until then,
I’ll try and remember the way
your voice sounds.
I’ll continue to miss the way your words
would always tumble slightly
and how every conversation had the
Blame if on the Weather was submitted by Sam De Leon, a Grade 9 student at Frank Hurt Secondary School in Surrey, BC. It was awarded third place in the Jessamy Stursberg Poetry Contest for Canadian Youth Junior Category.