The Poet's House

#thepoetshouse

  • Running With Scissors

    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. 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

  • Sunsets

    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… Continue reading

  • There’s A Chill

    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… Continue reading

  • Moon River Run

    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… Continue reading