writing
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Prologue to Pleasant Memories Behind the building where I grew up was a small wooded area with a creek. Beside that wooded area was a field with a small apple orchard and walkway to a cul-de-sac. On the east side of the creek was a path I knew well. I walked that path, ran it,…
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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 A square stone made of onyx sits on a shelf in my mind. It holds the cold moon of December. The shelf is in a closet which is in a room, a closed door keeps the closet secured, as another keeps the room closed. There is a long corridor with many doors,…
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by Michael Plante Secrets buried beneath the soilthought forgotten by those that deceivebut all misdeeds cut the souland blackness seeps out like blood.The structure that houses their Godfalls silent in the nightthe sickness remainsthe floors rotten. At dusk they fall to their kneesand God’s eyes look downwhat gets them through the nightshall strangle them by…
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by Michael Plante I asked the Creator for a strand of his hairI asked the crow for a featherI asked the tree of life for a branchI asked the ground for her gems.Songs of peace that I learned so long agopressed my lips at dusk’s request.My decrepit fingers are as old as my heartstill work…
