Tom Simard

Poetry, Music, and Prose

God Forbid

God Forbid
In theological circles
I imagine there is a word
for lack of grace.

Having put away my robes,
I am no longer privy to it.

Certainly this is how
he appears to me.

Someone like an
Antiochus Epiphanes
famous for his lack of décor.

Sunday’s Choice

Saturday’s Choice

Sunday’s Choice

Friday’s Choice

A PC Mao Suit

If everyone believes
what they’re told,
then they have entered childhood,
which is fine while it lasts,
but weren’t we advised to put away such things
when we were older?

Being re-educated
is not what it’s cracked up to be,
and my desire to be reformed is
I will say without a straight face
marginal at best.

So find me a peasant
who has learned not to read,
and let him do his best
to develop in me
a fashion sense

An Emerald Day

Sunday’s Choice

Saturday’s Choice

My Other Blog

Thought I’d pass on information concerning my new blog – quite different than this one – about politics or rather what passes for politics.

Tuesday’s Choice


The world explodes
in jagged pieces,
cut through souls
lying in state
in shattered repose.


A face bereft
of all emotions
raises his hands
through which
the arteries of life
once flowed.

Saturday’s Choice

Mutiny of the Bounty

Mutiny of the Bounty
Exhaustion set in from the very start.

The professor expounds on autopilot.

Mind-numbing material
meant not to enlighten but confound.

All across the room
the shell-shocked.

A mutinous crew of bounty.

Monday’s Choice


The aching pain
of frozen wind.

The burning
blaze of reddened cheeks.

The tiring stain
that never leaves.

The phantom limb
I still can feel.

The First Almond Tree

The First Almond Tree
The first almond tree
blossomed without me.

Swirling flakes
replacing leaves.

The heart,
a hundred times,

Gospel Stories I

Gospel Stories 1
Unable to deal
with the world as it is,
refuge is sought.

The dusty landscape cries,
“Worthy I do not deem myself!”

With a thunderous voice,
a blossom sprouts.


Continents of Design

Continents of Design
Snowflakes fell
the size of which
held continents
of design.

Roads traversed
so as not to encounter
those whose unlucky spins
put an end to the happy day
they were expecting.

Bails of hay on farm fields rolled.

Bleak whiteness obscured
one’s sense of place.

Monday’s Choice

Thursday’s Choice

Montana ’65

Montana ‘65
Snuck in the trunk
at motels,
where ice machines rattled and shook,
along the highways heading west
to the dusty old cattle ranch
with its large log creaky fence;
the simple kitchen
with its bourbon-breathed cook
who fed you cookies and milk;
the fool’s gold glistened in the sun
as you climbed to a top
where you could touch the clouds.

Waters Crossed

Waters Crossed
As you crossed
the waters
beneath which
Indians are buried,
massive steel arches
towered above you,
an erector set
blown out of proportion.

Darkness came early;
the chill hung
like frozen hogs
in a slaughterhouse.

Monday’s Choice

“But It’s Freezing!”



It may be too early to say so for certain, but it is possible that my brief respite from blogging is over.  I have no illusions that I’ll have the time to write as I did before, but I hope to post something now and then.  I would also love to think I’ll be back to reading my favorite blogs as well.

“I stop somewhere waiting for you.”

Soon and very soon I’ll be saying goodbye to blogging.  It’s been a very enjoyable three years but a new job in a new country will no longer permit me the time I need let alone the focus necessary (if anything, I’m a man easily distracted).

When I emerge on the other side, my head will poke up like a groundhog ushering in spring.

Until then, all the best.




Wednesday’s Choice

“Put me down.”

Every year I return home to see my mom.

After a severe stroke three years ago, which had been preceded by a number of TIAs (mini-strokes) over the years beginning in the 1980s, she’s been declining steadily.  We were fortunate to get her driving license away from her about a year back before she’d killed anyone.  The truth be told it was her doctor who was responsible, and everyone who tells how easy it is is talking about someone else’s parent. Last November we got her into a wonderful assisted living facility where despite no longer being able to converse as she had and largely being fixated on three things (money, going out to eat, my room is a cage) she had a certain quality of life.

During the first week of my visit a month ago things went relatively well although I’ll be the first one to admit my mom has never been an easy person to deal with and age combined with cognitive impairment has not helped in this regard.  There was much for me to complain about and complain I did to friends and relatives and whoever was ready for an earful.  The next few days were as pleasant as they have ever been – we went out to eat at a great Italian place with a cousin and aunt, and she even went to the casino (She loves her slots.).  Then Wednesday mid-morning when I was about to go to her place for lunch, I got word she’d had a massive stroke.   The doctors did not think she’d survive. We were forced to put her into a nursing home and into the Rapid Terminal Decline program.

But she has since rebounded.  Her health care directive made it clear that she did not want to be in a nursing home (see title for a direct quote) and considered quality of life to be of the utmost importance.  We are constantly being pushed for therapy, which my sister and I are resisting to the very fiber of our being.

I was reminded of the wonderful film, The Sea Inside.

Wednesday’s Choice

Incommunicado (and Incognito)

Off again at the end of the week, back in the first week of June.

Groucho_glasses(Photographer: StickyWikis)

Wednesday’s Choice

Wednesday’s Choice

Wednesday’s Choice

The New Year

The New Year
In that spacious house
near where the gangster dwelled,
America’s most wanted in
a Fedora hat,
the two of you sat,
the new year having earlier been ushered in
and from your treasure chest
you both took a few,
and with the music
already soothing
the resolutions sworn off,
you watched the wind
blow snow about
the frozen lake.

Wednesday’s Choice

A Sliver of the Moon

For those interested, my new collection of poetry, A Sliver of the Moon, is available. As for further writing, I am hoping to have my second novel out by summer’s end. Now after that, it’s not necessarily silence, but I am certainly expecting things to be a lot more quiet around here. Think perhaps of those probes seeking evidence of extraterrestrial life. A new job in another country will just not allow the considerable free time I’ve had all these years.

Wednesday’s Choice


The long and the short of it –
a quarter century
of one’s life.

The heat was once
ancient steps rising up
in sweat.

The sun was always
an elixir
since those days
at university in the

The sea
as a replacement for
those thousand lakes
of a child –
cleaner and bluer.
The first time
you swam
you felt as if you floated,
and it would be impossible to sink.

It is not the last goodbye.
You will return
for a month or two
a year
to enjoy the best
on offer,
no longer having
to tolerate the rest.

The language goes with you
and you will use it,
sometimes as a code.

The Desert Sand

The Desert Sand

The wind blew in bursts.

Microscopic grains of sand
swirled about.

In the taxi cab you sat
your lower back
having given out.

Arriving at the hotel,
you seriously doubted
if on getting out
you’d be able to stand.

Fearfully you struggled
and were so relieved to see
with open hearts
asking if you needed

An Absence

Been laid up with the flu – hoping it’ll pass at some point.  I do have my doubts!

Anyway, things are on the move here or rather I’ll be on the move in March and probably April so I’ll be likely be absent from the blogging world for the next few months.

Here’s to hoping spring comes to all with its usual delights.

Wednesday’s Choice

Wednesday’s Choice

Wednesday’s Choice

Wednesday’s Choice

Sappho Fragment (96)

“But now she is conspicuous among Lydian women
as sometimes at sunset
the rosyfingered moon

surpasses all the stars. And her light
stretches over salt sea
equally and flowerdeep fields.”

From Anne Carson’s If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho


Wednesday’s Choice

Wednesday’s Choice

Sappho Fragment 34

“stars around the beautiful moon
hide back their luminous form
whenever all full she shines
on the earth


From Anne Carson’s If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho

Sappho Fragment (31)

“….tongue breaks and thin
fire is racing under skin
and in eyes no sight and drumming
fills ears

and cold sweat holds me and shaking
grips me all, greener than grass
I am and dead-or almost
I seem to me.”

From Sappho Fragment 31

Anne Carson’s If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho

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