The Poet's House

#dark

  • Star Dust To Roses

    by Michael Plante She sleeps in metaphors of dying lightblind to the colours that forces the night.Dreaming of my arrival she awaitsas metaphors fall from the evening sky.Like shooting stars they disappearinto oblivion where lovers transform themfrom star dust to… Continue reading

  • When You See It

    Michael Plante When you see a child sitting outside their house a tear in their eye and smudge dirt on their cheeks;a woman screams from within and the sound of breaking furniture; you understand that it’s not any of your… Continue reading

  • The Cyclops

    by Michael Plante I plucked the eye of the cyclopsand swallowed it down with a cup of teastabbed the heart of darkness in the silence of the nightand brought home the demonsthat have far too long played with the mind.… Continue reading