Welcome to The Kitchen Sink!

•May 23, 2015 • Leave a Comment


Hi there. This blog is devoted to all manner of creative writing and is (ideally) updated several times each month.

I invite each of you to provide investigations and analyses; poetry and prose; reviews of film, literature, and music. Submit your own dramatic writing, introspective writing, unique and original writing. Submit your own thoughts regarding your politics and passions, hobbies and recommendations.

I invite your comments or criticism; your suggestions and feedback, at any time. Simply e-mail me or insert your desired copy as a comment, with a small note to say so. Please include your own ‘byline’ information, copyright information and/or author’s note so you can be credited for your own work.

More voices mean more variety. Let’s fill this Kitchen Sink with all the beauty and originality it can handle.

Sincerely, Chris Hibbard chris.hibbard@alumni.uleth.ca

Slow Dance

•November 25, 2015 • Leave a Comment

A poem
by David L. Weatherford
Copyright 1991
Republished here without permission


Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?

You better slow down.
Don’t dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won’t last.

Do you run through each day on the fly?
When you ask, “How are you?” Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed,
with the next hundred chores running through your head?

You’d better slow down
Don’t dance so fast.
Time is short
The music won’t last.

Ever told your child, We’ll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste, Not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time to call and say,’Hi’

You’d better slow down.
Don’t dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won’t last..

When you run so fast to get somewhere,
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift…. thrown away.

Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.

North To November

•November 11, 2015 • 1 Comment

A poem
for Mary Jane
By Chris Hibbard
November 11, 2015

North to November

Gonna make it to the journey’s end
And we’ll go at our own speed
One way or another – just you and me

Gonna go North to November
And we’ll do it our own style
One way or another – it may take us a while

Gonna see another sunrise
And we’ll hold on to it tight
One way or another – we’ll hold on to that light

Gonna push North to November
And we’ll do it properly
One way or another – just you wait and see

Gonna walk another metre
Yes we’ll drive another night
One way or another – we’re gonna do it right

Gonna push North to November
and we’ll do it as only we can
Gonna make it to the journey’s end
Leave our mark upon the land

Jigsaw Life

•November 4, 2015 • 1 Comment

A reflection
by Chris Hibbard
inspired by Mary Jane
November 4, 2015


Life is like a jigsaw puzzle.

At first we see a beautiful image, and it is all we can do to keep from tearing the lid off of the box.
But once the box has been opened, we realize exactly how many pieces this puzzle contains.

Thousands of pieces – each of them are nearly identical, but every one is unique.
So we begin our lives, shuffling through the pieces, looking for where the hard edges are, for once we have determined the shape and size of the puzzle, the frame can begin to be filled.

In the beginning you make a plan, like setting out for a long journey. Some people sort the pieces into colors, and others into shapes. But no matter your method or your skill level, the puzzle gets put together one piece at a time. There are no true shortcuts to a jigsaw puzzle.

Some pieces fall into place effortlessly. Some require a few extra taps to ensure that they stay put. Some feel like they fit – but it is only later that you see they were wrong.

We learn quickly that we cannot jam the pieces together where they do not belong.
The puzzle is intimidating. One piece connects with another, yet there are hundreds more just waiting to be tried.

Sometime we spend so many hours on the puzzle trying to make each piece fit that we want to just give up, break it all apart and shove it back in its box.

But we don’t. Because we know that what we are building is a masterpiece. It doesn’t even matter if it’s an easy fifty-piece puzzle or a much more complicated 5,000 piece monster – we are aiming to complete the picture, even if we may be unsure of what the final picture will be.

So we spend our time poking and prodding, spinning our pieces around, examining the photo on the box, looking for what piece goes where. Sometimes we start with one small section and then just give up, moving on to another section without even appreciating the work we just did.

Sometimes we lose patience. We wonder why we worked so hard just to find that one perfect piece, when we could have been elsewhere, looking at a whole new section. Yet the truth is that the pieces were all there to begin with. They were there all along. We just didn’t notice them because our minds were pre-occupied.

Other times it is a frustrating challenge. Sometimes you reach a point where all the pieces look the same; sections of sky, of desert, of ocean, fur and feather.
Sometimes the puzzle process is thoroughly enjoyable and relaxing. Always it is time-consuming and requires patience.

Sometimes it seems that you’ve been looking at the same pieces over and over again, and they will never fit. Until just as you’re ready to give up, suddenly it appears, it fits into place, and the rest begin to follow.

Sometimes other people want to help with the jigsaw puzzle. They mean well, and since there is no real competition, it feels a bit like bonding – all working towards the same goal. Through puzzles, we learn what works best for me and what works best for you, and where our strengths and weaknesses are. We learn how we organize our thoughts and how we work best – together and alone. Sometimes the puzzle seems easier with only one set of eyes, and only one set of hands, yet for some couples, the last piece may often not even be pressed down unless both puzzle makers are present to witness.

Unlike life however, with a jigsaw puzzle we are convinced that we will always know what it will look like by the end. In life, we’re not so sure. We think we know where all the corners are, and where all the edges will be – but in life, and in love as well, there are no set boundaries. New pieces get added to the mix while others disappear. Sometimes we don’t even want to look at the puzzle anymore. Yet the puzzle keeps growing. Piece by piece by piece. And when, after what feels like forever, the pieces start to fall into place more easily, the last hundred pieces seem quite simple compared to the first.

Yet the lessons learned from puzzle making stay with us either way. Sometimes in life we complete our puzzle and we let it sit. We glue or it or frame it or cover it with glass, to be admired and envied. Sometimes we are afraid to break the puzzle apart again, back into its original pieces, back into the box. Yet even when we do, the puzzle is still complete. It is just complete in its most basic components.

For sometimes in life and in love, a piece goes missing. Stuck to an elbow, to a shoe, to a stain on the floor. Disappointment is sure to be the outcome, for the puzzle will never be 100%. But even so, the project was never a failure. It was simply a 999 piece puzzle, rather than 1000.

This is because a puzzle is all about success, completion, satisfaction and patience. There is no such thing as a puzzle that was a ‘waste of time’. They require attention to detail, intelligence, coordination, and focus. So even if one piece is missing, a true puzzle is more about the process than it is about the inevitable outcome. By the time we are ready to put our life puzzle into the box, we understand that we may never know the finished picture.

But we should know by then that the painstaking, tedious, time consuming journey that was required to make it – was really the most beautiful part of all.

She Was His Gravity

•November 3, 2015 • Leave a Comment

A poem
by Sarah Harvey
Republished without permission
October 3, 2015

She Was His Gravity

She was not his answer.
Or his escape.
She was not a beautifully decorated distraction.
No—she was his challenge.
His question.
His fire.

A gem—worthy of pure, undivided attention,
A bolt of lighting, baked into a warm chocolate éclair,
A prayer encased in lapis lazuli,
A prickle of static electricity running wildly through the forest air.

Her touch was enough to shatter him, deliciously
And awaken his wildest wishes.
Her gaze was enough to sear into his soul
And make honey drip from his skin, like feathered sunlight.

She took him to the edge of the moon, and he draped rubies in her hair.
When they kissed, the earth shook, and trees bled evergreen secrets into their ears.
No matter how far she wandered
Or where her tangerine-dipped dreams took her—she always returned to him.

Nothing could keep her away from his warm, familiar arms
His fiercely kind eyes
That magical laugh of his that lit up the darkness, like a swarm of giggling fireflies.
She was his world,
And he was her gravity.

Together was their only option—
Their hearts meant to intertwine like two frayed golden threads,
They were a fit—two broken pieces
Sliding together, imperfectly.
There was no denying it
She was his world
And he was her gravity.

Play With Me

•November 3, 2015 • 1 Comment

A reflection
by Kate Rose
Republished without permission
October 3, 2015

Play With Me

“Life must be lived as Play”. ~ Plato

Make me forget that I am an adult.

I don’t care if I have work in the morning, and children are in bed. Make me laugh so hard my belly hurts; chase me around the house until I can’t breathe anymore, or least until I pretend that I can’t, as I collapse in excitement on the bed waiting for you.

Just make me laugh.

I may have smile lines around my eyes, and bills due in the morning, but that doesn’t mean I have lost the desire to play. My heart is young, and it seems with each year that ticks by on the calendar my soul only grows a bit younger.

I don’t have time for what adults should look or act like; I’m far too busy trying to see how high I can swing, and if I really can touch the sky.

Just make me smile.

Continue reading ‘Play With Me’

The Cosmic Dancer

•November 3, 2015 • 2 Comments

A poem
by Samantha Reynolds
Republished without permission

I am not old, she said
I am rare

I am the standing ovation
at the end of the play

I am the retrospective
of my life
as art

I am the hours
connected like dots
into good sense

I am the fullness
of existing

you think I am waiting to die
but I am waiting to be found

I am a treasure
I am a map
these wrinkles are imprints
of my journey

ask me

Time Capsule Project 2015

•October 26, 2015 • Leave a Comment

I was lucky enough this year to be invited to join a group of 12 Lethbridge-based authors, artists and activists in a Time Capsule project for our local Southern Alberta Art Gallery. Each contributor was tasked with adding items to 10 different times capsule, with each item representing something that described one unique aspect about our fair city. By the end of the project, each Time Capsule would contain 12 different items from 12 different minds. The Time Capsules are buried, and one will be unearthed and opened at various times over the next 100 years. It was a fun project to work on, and I feel honoured to have been invited to participate.

My contributions were photographs I came across, each one including a corresponding statement. Enjoy.


Time Capsule Project 20151. The heart of Lethbridge is not found downtown. It is not found on the north side, south side, or west side. The heart of Lethbridge can only be found in the generous and friendly spirits of the people who live here. This image shows some of those people, enjoying a day of music and sunshine in Galt Gardens in September of 2014.

Continue reading ‘Time Capsule Project 2015’


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