You played on / when the third period / ended ... / delaying season's end, icing the puck, / replaying Coach's Corner / to see whether or not / Don gives you his "thumbs up". / Who would've thought / that / like some hockey game / life stands still / only after overtime's / sudden death?
"Overtime" by Glenn Arthur Sweazey
Examples of My Writing
Glenn Arthur Sweazey is an Ottawa writer whose work often blends poetry and prose to paint narrative canvases.
Game of Dreams
… The grass in the home team’s park always smells / freshly mown, sweet like hay on his farm, not / five miles away, down old Coal Road, next to / Arthurs’ Corner where cows grazed through my youth. …
“... what's real and true lies out there -- / in the buckwheat, hidden beneath / winter snow, cold and fresh fallen, / or in dust and dirt of dry summer heat.
It was the best place to go / for a walk about the farm, / 'longside the fields -- / one brushing the poplar copse / where sparrows and starlings / chatter 'n sing, so loud 'n real sweet.”
from "Out There In The Buckwheat" by Glenn Arthur Sweazey
“Like some ranch cowboy's faithful steed
my dove grey Chestnut rides on waves,
Rivers, lakes and woods of Algonquin Park are spread so long and wide it takes days to range from one side to the other. If it was the plains of the West country it would mean travelling point to point by horseback. Here, it is my Cruiser canoe, all 16 feet and 65 pounds of taut canvas and wood that carry me.
no reins nor spurs I need to steer
true course to lake's far distant shore,
When they cap high and white, lake waves buck and shake a paddler like an unbroken horse trying to throw its rider.
one simple turn of wrist enough
will guide canoe bow, have no fear.
But it is water, river or lake, testing your paddling skills. The slender boat beneath your knees works with you, not against, so my Chestnut is always my friend and I have learned to trust it come high water or low.”