The Wild Side

by denny bastian 2013

She is the little river gurgling over the polished

rocks; surrounded on either side by earthen banks,

breasted sides mounded in fragrant purple lupines.

As she approaches the potent sea she opens herself

to him like a tentative lover, whereupon his sensual

breakers and needy undercurrents take her as if

she had always belonged to him and him alone.  

He celebrates victory like a wild western wind driving

a thunderous white surf upon an almost deserted sandy

beach like the trampling hooves of  stampeding cattle.

Yet two young goose bumped lovers far too innocent

to be concerned shelter their bodies beneath a brightly

coloured beach towel; hugging for warmth, chattering,

giggling, lips upon lips, hearts bursting with new love.

We two, safe and warm, standing behind the glass

window of our rented cottage, white washed with red

roof, as a summer storm blows rivulets of sand against

a short white picket fence.  A look, a smile, a wordless

agreement to don our raincoats and sou’westers, slip into

our gumboots, yours with flowers on the sides, hand in

hand we’ll walk out the door into the wild side of life.

Once Upon a Time
 (Remembrance)
by denny bastian 2013

Once upon a time, a soldier imagines his
beautiful young wife standing beside the
kitchen stove. She prepares supper
anticipating his return from work at the
automobile plant. Things are really looking
up since his return from the war; he’s a
foreman now, maybe they can buy a house.

Just behind her, their 16 month old child
happily manoeuvres a kitchen chair
from beneath the chrome and arborite
table they bought just last week at the
second hand store. The boy wobbles and
weaves as he struggles to push it close to
his mother working at the sideboard.

She looks down and smiles at his little efforts
to move the chair while she dreams that perhaps
one day her little guy will grow up to become
the Prime Minister of Canada or a famous
medical researcher who discovers a cure for
cancer. She would even be happy if he
follows in the good footsteps of his daddy.

Daddy comes through the front door and
walks into the kitchen. He lays his lunch
bucket on the end of the counter as he
reaches down to snatch up his son. He hugs
him hard, then leans over to kiss his wife,
sneaking a peek at what’s for supper.
He is happy and grateful for every blessing.

But this is once upon a time. This was a young
soldiers dream that might have been, had it not
been for that split second in time that changed
the world forever; when through the ultimate
sacrifice gave up his own dreams so that we may
have the chance to fulfill ours. Life has never
been the same without him. I will remember.

Remember Me

denny bastian 2012

Above this dirty trench the land is stark,

of muddy ground, of fields unfed, 

of shattered trees, and bloody craters

make shallow graves for comrades dead.

I fear that death before me lies;

my life hangs by a fragile thread.

The cold and wet chills my soul,

and thoughts of home fill my head.

I tremble to think of Mama’s cry

when they tell her that I am dead.

O’ be still my thoughts for duty calls.

"O’er the top,” the words I dread.

Grab my rifle, climb up from this trench,

curse this mud, keep low my head

the bombs and bullets search for me.

Run for that crater so far ahead.

“OH MY GOD! the darkness comes.

Mama, Mama, I smell your baked bread.”

Remember me,

Remem…

ber...

me.