NaPoWriMo - April 15th

April is National Poetry Writing Month. In celebration of poets everywhere, and to encourage those who are just embarking on their literary journey, I will be posting poetry (not mine) each day for the month of April. Please take a look and enjoy this special art.

G. M. Stroll

About me: I'm a 30 year old schizophrenic author, living in Montreal. I took up writing, at first, to give a gift to a sick friend of mine; dedicated to raising money for charitable research into her illness. I discovered that I loved the trade, and made a short hop over into fiction a couple years ago. I'm currently in the process of querying my first fiction novel, Trinity Divided. My inspiration is generally drawn from music, but equally every psychosis I've survived has left me with shattered dreams from which to piece together a story. Through all the mediums one can write, I'll always have a love - hate relationship with poetry. To me, poetry is a thinly veiled window into our deepest emotions.

G.M. Stroll can also be found on Authonomy.

Chasing dreams through the stars,

Drum beat hearts that once were ours.

Disjointed breaths through time and space,

A message, a bottle, a word would they lace.

From crow to dove to the heavens above,

All would know that the word was love.

In the evening's still, the sun sets all the same,

The only thing left to hold onto is your name.

Her eyes, in summer's majesty, glistened with a mildew sheen;

His eyes were frail, broken, bound and bereaved in the wood.

Her heart false, if only not to betray a pain at the seam;

His heart would spark like kindling, for through her it could.

Her eyes, in fall's decay, grew distant, solemn and stronger;

His eyes linger, in shades of rose,  yet still missing their mark.

Her heart withers where fostered hope trespassed no longer ;

His heart was both clumsy and fearful, yet naked, openly stark.

Her eyes, in winter's despondancy, reveals a mercy so soft;

His eyes contrast as erupts a miasma of purpose and defeat.

Her heart restrained to dreams from wence prayers waft;

His heart reaches out for those seeking in love's retreat.

The truth was in their estranged eyes, misplaced in time.

The hunger was in their unsure hearts, spoken in rhyme.

NaPoWriMo - April 1st

April is National Poetry Writing Month. In celebration of poets everywhere, and to encourage those who are just embarking on their literary journey, I will be posting poetry (not mine) each day for the month of April. Please take a look and enjoy this special art.

G. M. Stroll

About me: I'm a 30 year old schizophrenic author, living in Montreal. I took up writing, at first, to give a gift to a sick friend of mine; dedicated to raising money for charitable research into her illness. I discovered that I loved the trade, and made a short hop over into fiction a couple years ago. I'm currently in the process of querying my first fiction novel, Trinity Divided. My inspiration is generally drawn from music, but equally every psychosis I've survived has left me with shattered dreams from which to piece together a story. Through all the mediums one can write, I'll always have a love - hate relationship with poetry. To me, poetry is a thinly veiled window into our deepest emotions.

G.M. Stroll can also be found on Authonomy.

Enter slowly, from the door;

Come before me, whom I abhor.

Dreams of faintly painted pains;

Leaves my spirit empty and drained.

Forlorn deeds from serpent’s breath;

Bring my soul to a place beyond death.

From there I wake to a host of dreams;

Real though haunting, they aren’t what they seem.

In this place of shadows forsaken;

My life isn’t gone but my sanity taken.

Beckon unto me thy will;

Egos of a rotten face.

With lamenting the holes will fill.

Forever dreaming of a place;

To rest upon my weathered bones.

Journey no more, I’ve found a hut.

And from this shelter I make a home;

To slumber in my little rut.

All the while dreams will pass;

My scattered thoughts, like shards of glass.

Sudden reversal of fortunes true;

Glimmering like a fiery spark.

Thoughts are skewed and found anew.

Rows on rows like teeth of a shark.

They mix and churn into one big pot;

Understanding the facets of the brain;

Forming in my mind, into a clot.

I look upon them with a slight strain.

Some of these did not belong;

And so I sort them with dismay;

Plans and designs of something wrong.

To find myself, once again I pray.

Beyond tatters of despair;

I can taste bitterness in the air.

Thrills & Chills at La Ronde

Now that our youngest two boys have reached the lofty heights of 1m, 37cm (54”) and can enjoy all the rides, we decided to take them to La Ronde for the day. Located on Île Sainte-Hélène, it boasts of being Eastern Canada’s largest amusement park with over 40 rides and attractions. We had perfect weather, a comfortable 23 degrees, and the lines moved very quickly. The park allows you to bring your own food and drinks (no glass containers or alcohol, of course), which made going for our family of six even more affordable.

For the most part, the boys and I had a terrific day of roller-coaster hopping – that’s pretty much all they were interested in. At the end of the first ride, my youngest exclaimed, “That was excellent.” He had a look of pure joy on his face. This was probably the most thrilling experience he had had in all his nine years. My oldest, looked a little green, but was a trooper and followed us to the next big event. If it whirled and twirled, we tried it – the Vampire, the Cobra, Vertigo, the Monster, and the Goliath, just to name a few. The boys loved all of it. Admittedly, my stomach isn't what it was twenty years ago, but I managed to keep up with them.

Then came the Ednör-Attack. The thrill rating was high, the height requirement only 1m, 32cm (52”). My oldest and I opted out of this ride, only because it was the end of the day and our tummies had had about all we could take. The younger boys and their dad ventured off for the one hour plus wait. J and I had a lovely time, chatting, sharing a beaver tail and wandering around the park – we had no idea the others were in roller-

coaster-hell.

When they came off the ride, the two youngest were completely white and practically in tears. It seems the ride jostles you back and forth, so your head is repeatedly banged against the safety bars. The bars were padded, but firm enough to leave extensive bruising on a small child. It’s an amusement park, we knew there was a chance of bumps and bruises – but we weren't expecting this. My 13-year-old fared a bit better, but he’s nearly adult sized.

So – our advice to parents visiting Montreal and looking for a little thrill-seeking? Go ahead and enjoy your day at La Ronde, it’s part of Six Flags, so if you already have a season pass, your day is free as a visitor. Just remember that the height requirements on the rides are only guidelines. A little research would have saved us a few headaches – literally.