A weary traveler once came to me something about a man he had to see he’d been here before and there too in search of someone he already knew
By Michael LaFrance3 years ago in Poets
the beauty of the bird in flight what ease and gentle course soaring above, at day and night we gaze at the ever majestic eagle
this earth does not choose sides be it by race, gender, or continent it does not share folly with the wicked by means of enduring it compensates
Like the dull edge of a butcher’s knife Like the blunt edge of a loggers axe We’re all exposed beneath- beneath our soft underbelly
She waits in the arms of her lover winters harsh winds burning every spot of exposed skin an unimaginably quiet night sounds won’t carry over the wind
Strong willed men at halt in the tower waiting for word ready for battle Soft earth below in a bog to wait for a slow march
Are you fragile or are you scared thankful for another washed out day time to spend far away from the everlasting
No one wants to die a hero When they can live a nobody They sacrifice you make you a saint tell your story to the children
He sits tense he waits anxious he fidgets alone when you betray the people - they leave you alone when a sound mind
By the steamy window he sits, in a warm room on a cold day, he taps his fingers on the glass. It sounds like the beginning of a march
Eyes that could mirror the moon with hair choreographed by the passing breeze - an essence of bloom That I nor any other
By Michael LaFrance4 years ago in Poets
With winter coming, the COVID-19 pandemic is still here. Experts warn as temperatures fall and indoor gatherings increase, there will be a rise in cases.
By Michael LaFrance4 years ago in Longevity