The Back Page

To Ottawa, The Farmer

By Sydney White

Colonnades of glass
Are rising
Like mushrooms in the dark
Neighbourhoods where we once lived
Are just a place to park.

The homes that justified our work
Are gone.
Our pleadings are ignored.
The middle class
Their dreams are grass,
And still the banks want more.

Now farmers struggle
To keep their land
While usurers
With polished hands
Count on the working poor.

"Oh Canada"
Our anthem sings
"We stand on guard for thee."
I'm dying here
It's time you knew
That "Canada" is me.

 


 

Happiness comes through doors you didn't even know you left open.

If Walmart is lowering prices every day,
How come nothing is free yet?

An anagram for George Bush: He bugs Gore.

We could learn a lot from crayons:
some are sharp; some are pretty;
some are dull; some have weird names;
and all are different colours -- but
they all exist very nicely in the same box!