Poetry In Motion On Ice

A poem inspired by Tessa Virtue's and Scott Moir's Olympic gold medal performance for Canada in the free dance final of the Ice Dance in Figure Skating at the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver.

Dressed in snow white glimmering against
the background of glimmering white ice
ice that symbolizes cold
ice that symbolizes frozen in time
and yet on that ice
time is not frozen
but a whirl of twizzles and lifts
and warm touching embraces
oh! this ice is not cold tonight
but sizzles with warmth and passion.

To Gustav Mahler's Symphony No. 5 they dance
and dance
She rides upon his back
he catches her in his arms
They move not as two
but seemingly as one
There they are on ice
no Ice Queen from Narnia she
no Ice Age warrior he
but the Lord of the Dance
and his Lady of the Dance
on ice.

Fire on ice
one hears the term
but not often one sees it.
Grace and poise and elegance
she but 20
he but 22
and their youth has transcended time
in one golden moment
on ice in Vancouver.

-A poem by Dracul Van Helsing
written Tuesday, February 23rd 2010.

Casting Pebbles In A Stream

The boy threw the pebble into the stream.

"Look grandpa, look!" the boy shouted, "how when I cast that
pebble into the stream, it made ripples that reached the distant
shore!".

"That's right," his grandfather smiled, "sometimes when we cast pebbles
into the stream of life, we never know where they might end up!".

What a bunch of crap! the boy now a man thought to himself as he
sipped his coffee in a Parisienne cafe.

The man had become an artist. An artist in Paris which had
long been his dream.

But was his dream to starve as well? He certainly didn't make much
money for his sketches and paintings.

It was August 1938. And there was some talk of war in Europe.

That was all he needed the embittered artist thought.

He lived in a broken down rat infested apartment.

All he could afford was bread and cheese.

And now all he needed was tanks roaming through the streets of Paris.

He James Potter the farm boy from Missouri was now an artist in Paris.

Was this really his childhood dream?

He thought as his stomach growled from hunger.

He went to his usual stretch along the River Seine. And sketched a sketch.

He then added watercolour to the sketch.

A couple from Prague were on their honeymoon in Paris.

Jake and Adela Epstein were intrigued with the young artist and
bought the sketch of the River Seine that he had just sketched
and watercoloured.

Happy in love, they shared their joy with the young artist by paying him
10 times the usual fee he received for one of his sketches.

When Jake and Adela returned to their hotel room,
Jake said, "I think I'll have a bath."

Adela said, "I think I'll go to that boutique in the lobby
and see what they have!".

"You mean you'll buy what they have!" her husband winked at
her.

"You know you love the dresses I wear!" Adela winked back at him.

And with that, the beautiful young brunette grabbed her purse
and already wearing one of her favourite dresses, a beautiful rose coloured
dress, she skipped out of the hotel room.

She returned an hour later.

"What? No new dress?" Her husband teased.

"I thought I'd save it to buy champagne," Adela laughed.

Jake looked into Adela's beautiful dark eyes, kissed her and said,
"I'm the one buying the champagne! I have a lot to celebrate.
What other man is so blessed that he actually gets to marry the
love of his life?"

When they returned to the hotel after having an exquisite and delightful
dinner (with champagne), there was a message waiting for Jake.

His mother had taken seriously ill in Prague.

They would have to leave immediately.

"I hope this isn't too disappointing for you," Jake addressed his wife.

"No, I understand," Adela smiled.

Jake looked into her eyes. He saw that she did indeed understand
but he couldn't help noticing an extreme look of disappointment as well.

June, 2007.

Eli Epstein was driving his grandfather Jacob around New York City.

He had picked his grandfather up at the cancer clinic and took him
for his daily drive.

Eli was glad to do this. For he knew that Jacob didn't have long to live.

And he knew his grandfather had had a hard life.

His homeland had been invaded.

He had been deported to the concentration camp at Auschwitz where his
first wife had died.

Grandpa didn't talk much about his first wife.

Grandma had told Eli before she died that she loved Jacob
and she knew that Jacob loved her. Jacob Epstein was a good and
kind and decent man.

But she knew that Jacob still carried around deep within him and
deep within his heart the memory of his first wife.

Eli parked the car and took his grandfather for a stroll along the avenue
in this shopping district of pawn shops and second hand stores.

"You know I don't have a photograph of her," Jacob remarked,
"all the photos of her were destroyed when our apartment in Prague
was ransacked. All these years without her and
not one photograph."

Eli knew his grandfather was talking about his first wife.

"I just wish I could see a picture of her," tears formed in the old man's eyes,
"so that I knew my memory wasn't playing tricks on me
as I recall what she looked like."


As they turned the corner, Jacob Epstein let out a loud cry.

He pointed excitedly at a painting in the window of a small antique store.

"That's her! That's her!" Jacob cried, "that's Adela."

It was a painting of a beautiful dark haired young woman with exquisitely
lovely dark and penetrating eyes. She was wearing a beautiful and lovely
rose coloured dress and smiling the most radiant smile.

They entered the store and asked to examine the painting.

The artist's signature on the painting read James Potter 1938.

On the back of the painting was this inscription,

Painted by myself James Potter on August 15th, 1938.

It was meant to be a honeymoon gift from a young bride
Adela Epstein for her husband Jacob.

Mrs. Epstein paid me ahead of time more than the usual fees I
receive for such a painting.

For some reason, Mrs. Epstein never showed up to collect it.


signed,
James Potter

They payed $10 for the painting from the shopkeeper.

Although Jacob Epstein would have gladly payed anything.

The nurses told Eli a week later that his grandfather was looking at
the painting on his bedside and smiling that morning he died.

Sometimes when we cast pebbles into the stream of life,
we never know where they might end up.



-A short story written by Dracul Van Helsing
June 25th, 2007

Jack O'Hare: Changing Colours With The Seasons

This is a poem I wrote last spring about the wild hare jack rabbit who lives in my back yard whom I call Jack O'Hare.

At the time of the writing of this poem, Jack O' Hare was starting to turn brown in colour.

Now that it's winter and I'm posting this poem here for the first time at Xanga, Jack O'Hare is of course totally white in colour.

Brown in the spring, summer, autumn months.

Snow white in the winter months.

Anyhow here is a poem I wrote about Jack O' Hare which I originally called The Bunny Machine (although Jack is no machine- he's a living creature and not the impossible roulette wheel result of a never ending series of spontaneous accidents and incidents that occurred over long eons as some would argue):

Jack O' Hare: Changing Colours With The Seasons

They called him the Bunny Machine
this creature snow white clean
in winter that is
say what gives?
In summer he's brown
this hare about town.

How does Richard Dawkins explain it?
Suggests intelligent design d'aint it?
But Darwinists must resort to illogic and Hume*
laying their brains down at Reason's tomb.
From inanimate life comes life
and then with little more strife
comes fins then legs
and then birds' eggs
from amoeba to frog
and someday a prince
from gorilla to a man
using dental rinse.
In childhood we called these fairy tales
but for macro-evolutionists
it's evidence that tips the scales.

But Jack O'Hare hops and hops
his big bunny ears flops and flops
his colours protect in winter and summer
the fox sighs, what a bummer
and Richard Dawkins
looks dumber and dumber.



-written by Dracul Van Helsing
Wednesday, March 11th 2009




*Hume- a reference to David Hume a totally idiotic philosopher of the 18th Century
and therefore a big hero of Richard Dawkins.

To Live By The Sword

It was a spring evening in 1912.

And Doctor Paul Lindley professor emeritus of Medieval History
at Uriel College, Oxford was examining a sword.

"Congratulations, Professor Quigley," Doctor Lindley smiled
at the younger man, "this gold sword from the Celtic inscriptions
on it is indeed King Arthur's sword Excalibur. Through this find,
you have proven that a man shrouded in mist and myth really did
exist. And so did his famous sword."

"I was right to dig around the remnants of that ancient lakebed near
Glastonbury Tor," Professor Quigley smiled back, "I thought it was the
lakebed which, when a lake, had the mystical Isle of Avalon on it. And so
the sword Excalibur was there. I shall make a great deal of money from
this find."

"Money," Doctor Lindley coughed, "but this sword is an important part
of Britain's heritage. It must be given to the British Museum."

"Nonsense," Professor Quigley glared at the older man angrily, "I already
have an American millionaire in New York lined up to buy it. He's to pay me
one million dollars for it."

"I'm going to report this to the Antiquities Authority," Doctor Lindley pointed
his finger at the younger man, "we do have laws in this country about plundering
important historical artifacts and selling them for profit."

"You'll do no such thing," Professor Quigley grabbed the sword
and thrust it through the older man's breast piercing his heart and killing
him.

Professor Quigley wiped the blood off the sword and put it in his suitcase.
His boat to New York would leave tomorrow.

The next morning consternation could be heard throughout the
college rooms when Doctor Lindley's body was found.

But Professor Quigley was already at the British Customs desk in Southampton.

"Open your suitcase," the Customs officer instructed.

Professor Quigley felt faint.

"Joe, a woman has fainted," another customs officer called out, "could
you lend a hand?".

"All right, go ahead," the customs officer waved Quigley aboard.

With his suitcase containing the sword Excalibur locked safely away in his
cabin, Professor Quigley breathed deeply the salt air as the ship left shore.

Yes, he Professor Ichabod Quigley had an appointment with destiny...

... the professor was still smiling as he walked beside a life jacket
emblazoned with the ship's name...

... R.M.S. Titanic...



-A short story written by Dracul Van Helsing
September 21st 2007

My Own Personal Thoughts On Love- Reflections On Eros and Psyche

I suppose because it's the month of February (and Valentine's Day falls within the month of February) that a lot of people are blogging on the subject of love.

And reading all these blogs about love made me start thinking and reflecting on the subject of love.

Because there are different sorts of love. There's family love- the love a parent has for the child. And the love the child has for the parent. The love between brother and sister.

The love between good friends. That love that is found in a close friendship.

And then of course there's romantic love- which is the love most people seem to be writing about this month of February.

The ancient Greeks being the wise people that they were had four words to describe love whereas we in the English speaking world only have one which often leads to confusion when one is discussing love using the English language.

Storge was the word the ancient Greeks used to describe familial love- the love within families.

Philia is the Greek word for love that's used to describe the love to be found within close friendships.

Eros is the Greek word for romantic love- the sense of "being in love". Of course it's from the Greek word eros that we also get the English word erotica. And quite often erotic love in the English sense of the word overlaps with people's idea of lust and this is what quite often causes the problem in love relationships- many people do not think that erotic love is the same as romantic love.

Agape is the Greek word for the love that brings forth caring regardless of circumstances. Agape was translated as "Charity" in the King James Version of the Bible (Charity derived from caritas the Latin word for Agape in St. Jerome's Latin translation of the Bible known as the Vulgate). As the words of Saint Paul from I Corinthians Chapter 13 put it, "And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three ; but the greatest of these is charity."

So what about the ancient Greeks? Were they right to use the word eros to describe romantic love? Were they right to see erotic love as being the same as romantic love?

In my own opinion, they were.

For erotic love (at least the way most ancient Greeks viewed it) was not the same as lust.

Theologian C.S. Lewis used the term Venus (named after the Roman goddess of love Venus who was the Latin equivalent of Aphrodite the Greek goddess of love) to describe pure sexuality devoid of any sort of love- what we refer to today as "lust".

Thus there is erotic love (eros) and there is Venus (lust) and while the two may overlap at times, the two are definitely not the same.

After all in the original Greek myth of Eros, it is Psyche (what is commonly translated in English today as mind namely due to the influence of psychiatry and psychology thought of as "studies of the mind" but actually "psyche" in ancient Greek referred to the "soul". It was the word Nous that the ancient Greeks used to describe the thinking part of the human personality- what we commonly think of as the mind today) who is the human mortal female that the immortal Eros falls for.

Thus in terms of true erotic love as far as the ancient Greeks were concerned- there was always a link between Eros (desire) and Psyche (the soul).

So therefore erotic love- or romantic love- was not the same as lust (Venus)- straight sexuality that was totally devoid of any form of love.

And this is the trouble in the world of relationships today- for desire is felt in erotic love- desire is felt in romantic love- but desire is also felt in lust- albeit a desire that's strictly just that- desire- no type of love is felt for the other person.

So in a way a lot of romantic relationships can be doomed- if the love that is felt there does not grow and blossom- for eventually the desire- physical desire anyways- won't last. There must also be a spiritual desire present- a meeting of souls- a meeting of minds- for the relationship to last.

So what about love? The love that touches us once and lasts for a lifetime (the love that Celine Dion sings about in My Heart Will Go On- I happen to like that song by the way and will even admit to liking it- so you may want to hire your Ninja assasins to bump me off now as someone who actually likes this song that many people find irritating)? The type of love that Poets write about and praise? The type of love that young girls and young women long for? (but become cynical about in later life as they quickly discover how there seem to be a lot more frogs than princes in that deep blue sea where we're told there's more than one fish in the ocean).


So what about that love? The love that Poets praised? The love that young girls and young women long for?

The love (that) can touch us one time and last for a life time?

Does such a love actually exist?

Yes. I've seen it. I've observed it in other people.

But now here's the hard part of what I have to say- that love does exist- but most of us- the vast majority of us- probably won't get it.

Now the Founding Fathers of America wrote that "every individual has the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness".

So true love like happiness- we think we can pursue and find.

But as some great philosopher and logician once wrote about the logical fallacy and flaw in the U.S. Founding Fathers' argument (being Canadian I can write this without being accused of being unpatriotic), "if a person actually has to pursue happiness, he'll never find it."

However there is a simple way for the parties in a relationship to tell if the love they have is that special love that the Poets and young romantic males and young girls and young women and the writer of Celine Dion's lyrics dream of- the love that touches us once and lasts for a lifetime.

My favourite movie of all time is Titanic (no doubt the froggy un-princely like Avatar-loving nerds of Mancouch will hate me for that) and my fourth favourite movie of all time is Pandora and the Flying Dutchman.

I only saw Pandora and The Flying Dutchman once (I saw it once on the late night movie when I was about 7 or 8 years old) but the movie had such an impact on me, I never forgot it.

Anyways I was thinking about these two movies the other day- and noted there were some similarities between them- both set on ships, the sea was present but there was something else I suddenly noted about the two films as well- one of the people in it dying to save the other.

In Titanic, Jack Dawson (Leonardo DiCaprio) is a struggling young artist who's had a past (as can be seen from his sketch he did of a prostitute) and he meets Rose (Kate Winslet) and they have a steamy encounter (romantic erotic love at its steamy best) but then at the end of the film, Jack gives up his life to save Rose. The nearby piece of wood floating in the water can only hold one so Jack puts Rose on it and talks her into not giving up- into living her life to the fullest and doing all the things she's ever wanted to do. Rose survives but Jack dies.

In Pandora and the Flying Dutchman, the Ava Gardner character is a woman with a past- a performing artist who's actually treated men rather cruelly and played with their hearts. Then she meets the Flying Dutchman- played by James Mason- and that cursed mariner like the hero of legend and Richard Wagner's opera- is forever cursed to sail the seas until doomsday.

However in this movie, he does have an out.

If a mortal woman falls in love with him and is willing to die for him, the curse will be lifted.

The Ava Gardner character falls in love with the Flying Dutchman.

She gives up her own life so the Dutchman's curse can be lifted.

St. Paul told husbands to love their wives the same way that Christ loved His Church.

How much did Christ love his Church?

He loved Her so much, He was willing to die for Her.

There was a sad case recently in Toronto, Ontario, Canada where a woman was pushing a baby carriage with a child in it and was legally crossing the street on a green light.

However some reckless jackass car driver who was busy yacking on his cell phone and not paying attention to what he was doing blew through the red light and into the intersection.

The woman pushing the carriage across the street had a split second decision to make.

She could try to outrun the fast approaching car and push her carriage along in front of her if she ran but at the speed he was travelling, he could easily run into both mother and baby carriage and end up killing both mother and child.

However if instead of using her energy to outrun the fast approaching car, if she generated all that energy into giving the carriage one tremendous push, she could easily push the carriage out of the car's way even though she'd end up being hit by the car but at least her child in the carriage would be safe and live.

The mother wasn't about to play Russian roulette with her child's life.

She used all her energy to push the carriage out of the way of the fast approaching car.

The mother ended up being struck and killed by the jackass's car while the carriage and the child inside were safe.

The mother gave up her own life to save her child.

An example of Storge (Greek familial love) at its best.

In the Christian Faith, martyrs are people who love Christ so much that they'd rather die than deny Him.

Many people say they believe in Christ and they probably do but do they love Him?

For to believe in someone is not the same as genuinely loving them.

The Anglican Book of Common Prayer says in its summation of the First Commandment, "Thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thy heart and with all thy mind and with all thy soul and with all thy strength."

To love with all one's heart and all one's mind and all one's soul and all one's strength is what true love is all about.

True love is ultimately sacrificial love.

So if you're in a relationship, ask yourself...

this person from what I know and what I see and what I've observed about them, can I truly say that they love me so much, they'd be willing to give up their life to save mine?

And also ask yourself...

Can I truly say in my own heart, that this person that I think I love, would I really seriously give up my own life in order to save this person's life?

For true love is ultimately sacrificial love.

Love hurts they say.

And true love pays the ultimate sacrifice if necessary.