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A poem about climate change and the need for human balance.

Band of Brothers

Written after a workshop put on by a Canadian Forces Military Family Resource Centre.  There was a veteran of the Iraq war  in the audience listening to a fellow veteran talk about his deployment in Afghanistan.  I had never experienced before a grief that was so contained but so palpable that you could almost feel yourself breathing it in.


A poem  inspired by the same oil painting as Night Skies but with very different results.

Do The Work

A poem about working through writer's block.


This is not a hard SF poem. It borrows, for purpose of metaphor, the notion of particles separated by space but entangled by previous contact.  Maybe someday, there will be a poem about actual entanglement.  Think of this, in the meantime,  as SciFi with no HEA.

For Those Who Follow After

This was written so long ago (2003) that I no longer remember the origins/seeds that led to it.  

Goddess on the Last Train

One never knows when a source of inspiration may present itself to you.  In this case, an overheard conversation on the last night train home on the Toronto subway led to these reflections. 

Human Down

What could be salvaged if every human in crisis were treated as though an "officer down" situation?  What resources would be brought to bear if we valued each and every life as tribe?

Medication(s) Required?

A poem about the need for a pill that is neither red nor blue, though required for the heart...

Night Skies

A poem anchored in an oil painting and a science fiction short story.

Of Driftwood and the Sea

A slightly mystical, Celtic offering about the sea and the things that drift in the deeps.

On Hamilton Mountain

Two different versions of a poem inspired by fear of the open edge; fear that gravity will, somehow, stop working.

Secret Names

We are obsessed with the naming of things.  We think, rightly or wrongly, that in the naming of a thing we gain dominion over it.  

Summer Dragonfly

A reflection on the change of seasons and the fragility and beauty of life.

This Still Life

The oil painting in the coffee shop was the gift that kept giving .

Voice-Over-Internet Protocol

It's about the loss of privacy ... I think ...   I'm not a luddite in any way, though sometimes I yearn for the days where communication was a lot harder and you had to really think about whether you actually wanted to talk in person or not.

Writing Exorcise

A funny little semi-horror poem with an awakened pen and a judgmental clock.

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All photographs on this page are © Fiona Mackintosh with the exception of Night Skies and Writing Exorcise which  are Wix stock photos.

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