The Poet's House

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  • My Minneapolis

    The tide of hypocrisy rolls in and I become the shore.The lighthouse under the stars beckons a warning, “danger awaits”yet the tide continues;so firmly I must stand. The lighthouse keeper sounds the horn to those passing in the fog“beware…beware…be safe out therefor danger surrounds us all”. When the tide becomes the surge of a stormthe…

  • I Come from The North

    I am Nanook.I was forged in the cold and the darkness of a barren land.In the arctic we live the hard way.We kill to survive.We survive to make lovein the barren land of the north. I know no pityand understand my existence.I am killer.I know nothing else.I bundle myself in the best of hidesand walk…

  • Life Crafted

    by Michael Plante Can you see yourself floating on the seasin a little craft;waves lappingthe sun is shininga slight breeze brushes your cheeka cloud rolls by to say “Hello”and you laugh because it looks like a smile? At that moment you can become anything you likego anywhere you wantspeak to anyone you please.Nothing dares to…

  • The Absence of Hate

    What is love but the absence of hate?a smile,a touch of human compassionspiritual existence with othersan open door for all to pass through? I prefer to smileto laugh and create moments that last forever.When I die, I want nothing more than people saying “he created a better world for me”, and I don’t see anything…

  • Her Mystique

    by Michael Planter Blue tides….high watersoh my, she’s back againtake my hand…take my handtake me away from here…before I sink below her mystique. I’m losingdaylight disappearsblue tides…high watersI’ve sunk below her mystiquedrifting silently in the darkI can never go back. Blue tides and high watersnever to be seen againdrift away in the silencedrift away in…