“Bowl” Acrylic on Masonite


Early morning,
cat chafing at my ankles,
I bend to the dark corner,
where her dishes wait.

Tap running,
sound of a busy rill,
I rinse and gently fill
her bowl of water.

I hold it cupped in open hands,
the gesture of an offering.
Water acquiesces to bowl’s shape,
its free face pointing to the sky.

The cat purring,
my face reflected,
dusty traveler in a dry land,
two hands holding.



We shared a bottle of wine with friends on a summer evening aboard our sailboat. We knew that our dear friend, Jim Bull, struggling with a serious illness , was running out of time

An Offering (for Jim Bull)

From my glass, I pour some wine into the sea,
wine from the earth and sun,
revealing the spirit dwelling in all things.
The sea, from which our elements are drawn,
waits for their return.
I do this to acknowledge my acceptance
of all that life has brought and will bring to us,
sentient fragments of that greatness
we are honoured to perceive.



There Will be Beauty at the End

Clouds prowl the hilltops;
they are the colours of bruises.
Golden light
finds the whiteness of three soaring gulls
whose circlings trace a script upon the clouds.
“Mene, mene…” or “Peace, my friend”?
Though I can’t tell, I apprehend
there will be beauty at the end.



10 thoughts on “Offerings

    1. Karen: You nearly foxed me with your compression of your double-barreled last name. Good to hear from you and thanks for the encouraging comment. Farrell


      1. Hi Farrell
        Really enjoying your poetry! Some lines have changed how I visually see things.
        Yes, Sometimes I get tired of typing out my last name…
        Thank you for posting your work! Have you created any poetry books?


      2. Karen: I am mining a hoard of pictures (mostly from my sketchbooks) and poems going back to the 60’s. Nothing formally published so far. Fran Dearman has provided a lot of good editing advice. Farrell


      3. Yay!! Poems plus paintings!!
        If you decide to self publish, please include me in your waiting list.


  1. I read your poem for Jim aloud to a sailboat crew of people in September 2015. It was a multi-day Sea School trip and I was comfortable enough with the group, and vice versa, that it felt appropriate. There were ten of us on the trip. In the evenings we found a protected anchorage and slept on the boat after arranging the long oars to create a level deck and setting up a well planned out tarp shelter overhead. We were side by side in our sleeping bags like a tin of sardines, there was some privacy as we slept head to toe. We took turns keeping watch on the mooring lines and weather conditions overnight. If you moved the anchor lines you could see phosphorescence in the ocean. The captain and assistant had separate canvas bunks in the cockpit and were not on night watch shifts – they needed a break from the daylight responsibilities.
    The captain really liked the idea of the reading when I asked him about it early in the trip. I had brought a bit of wine to pour into the ocean. We were near a small island called Long Island when I did the Altantic ocean offering. That Long island is part of a group of small islands north of Heckmans island, in Mahone Bay. The trip was like our Woods Bay times in a lot of ways.
    I have notes titled “Altantic ocean tribute to Jim Bull” in a waterproof notebook I brought on that trip – I was planning for September 19th, one month after your August 19th Pacific ocean offering. In the notebook are my notes for an introduction / context, then your poem copied out.
    I have an amethyst I found very early one morning near the end of July 2015 when I was walking on a sandy beach west of there on Second Peninsula – had camped there overnight after a work trip on West Ironbound Island. It’s a beautiful beach that is a mix of sand and small stones. I was thinking of Jim when I was walking along the beach at sunrise that morning and found the amethyst. It has no sharp edges, those were softened by the ocean.
    I looked for it when I was writing this and found it next to a beautiful multi-coloured fossil I found in Lake Erie when I was a kid.


  2. Thanks Farrell. I particularly like the third verse Cheers, Christine

    On Thu, Mar 11, 2021 at 9:28 PM Poems, Pictures and Stories wrote:

    > fmboyce posted: ” “Bowl” Acrylic on Masonite Bowl Early morning,cat > chafing at my ankles,I bend to the dark corner,where her dishes wait. Tap > running,sound of a busy rill,I rinse and gently fillher bowl of water. I > hold it cupped in open hands,the gesture of a” >


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