Merchant Lake, Algonquin Park

This is  a poem for a prompt by Tel.  The idea is to write a poem about a place you’ve been that took your breath away.

Water mirror still and full of sky colour

The graceful movements of a cow moose disturb this perfection

Just as the coffee boils on the fire

Fire as old as the sun and as warm as the way this makes me feel

Muscle aches and burning eyes need sleep

But my soul is wide awake and twitching like the whiskers on a cat

For the first time in a year I feel my second self animate

I rediscover my once dormant animal instincts

as they revel in the scent of pine

The scurrying of a raccoon along the overgrown trail

As my boots hit the dirt near their den

The dance of jumping trout breaking the surface

disturbed by the soft sliding glide of my canoe and splashing dip of paddle

the rich dark history locked in the soil as it slips through these white hands

wondering what ancient woman also did this a thousand years ago


In a place where my heart and soul will always  remain

Merchant lake


Author: valo

I am a poet, writer and activist with a special interest in human rights for children and women as well as the elimination of poverty worldwide. If you read this today, feed someone locally for me will you? Drop off a non perishable food item at the food bank nearest you and consider yourself hugged. Thank you!

9 thoughts on “Merchant Lake, Algonquin Park”

    1. If you were to ever visit there Lisa, with our sensibility, you would write poetry that would do it more of an honour that I can. 🙂

  1. You never know young man, Paul and I and our daughter and you and Christopher could one day go portaging through Algonquin Park. A suthun boy like you could more than handle it and I know you would be seriously affected by it’s wildness and beauty. Thanks for liking the new blog, it’s my style and green is well, green! Now…if only I could get my hands on some of that green via a nice fat advance from a nice fat publishing company… 😉

    1. lol Thanks Jessie, it’s part of my obsession with famous dead people and one day I’m going to put them all in a story! Well, after I sell my soul and manuscript to that evil entity after Robert Johnson critiques it. 😉 He can be such a pesky fault finder.

    1. Thank you B, that place, that park are seriously beyond verbal description. It’s a way of being that I’ve not been able to replicate anywhere and I miss it. I may never get there again but it lives on in my memories. Okay, why am I so clever? Take your pick from the following choices on our clever menu:

      1. Born that way
      2. Sold my soul to some dark entity at a crossroads while Robert Johnson dithered about the difference between spirituals and the blues
      3. A Catholic school education and the standard terror of failing
      4. I had no choice, Ma didn’t give birth to stupid children and our DNA guaranteed intelligence, humour, guts and the ability to bullshit, kinda like I am now. 😉

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