#freeverse
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by Michael Plante There is an old tin shed in the woodsits rustic characteristics give it poise and wonderdistinguishing notables’ hang upon the wallsyesteryears’ crafted tools.Our forefather’s pride displayed honorably. Thin saplings line the countrysidemoonlit walk through crunching snowskates tied from laceshang over my shoulder.Under a winter moon I skatealone in the wilderness. Across the…
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by Michael Plante I can’t pretend everything is well.I won’t tell you my problems.Instead I’ll run with scissorsthrough a field of tall grassthat hide the stones that trip people.Maybe I’ll impale myselflike mother always said I would.
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by Michael Plante The only faith I have leftis my wife’s love for me and the sunset of today.For both have been with me for many yearsand have never diminished. My pride is that I took the timeto hold my wife’s handand listen to her sing her song.To be absorbed by her beautyas the sunset…
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by Michael Plante There’s a chill that creeps up your backwhen the full moon risesand the mist hovers over the hills of Carolina.In the old tin shed a candle is litand placed in the window to ward off the ill.“Never mind about this housemove on to where you need to be” And the spirits call…
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by Michael Plante Moon river bay sleeps like an old manwhen the dead paddle by under the full moon.The spirits of our dead call out like a loon in the darkness“Remember us….remember….”Drifting ice melts awaya new shoreline is reveled.Our ancestors step ashoreand into the shadow of the pines they disappear. Mother moon watches in silence.Her…
