#free-verse — Public Fediverse posts

A Dog With No Tale

My name is Pamiuq
it means “dog with no tail”
I was born in the tundra
a vast nothingness
that leads to my feet.

Only fate can distribute calamity
and the tundra is full of it.
It rises like snow drifts in winter
and sings through blistering winds
when the midnight sun has disappeared.

It breaks the very ice you stand on
into pieces that will drift away
on the rich sea
that sustains life.
I am left to roam
in search of food
to sustain life.

I am not a wise man
nor one of intelligence.
My talent is survival
which I execute daily.
I understand hunger
and I understand death.
Here on the tundra
this is all we have.

 pt.1

desolate
the tundra kills;
cold and pure
as it should be.
fearless, I watch
as death approaches.

I lay in a snow drift
it coddles my body,
my only wound
is not knowing.
so-be-it,
I cannot care.

what steps I took
have gotten me here
fate; and faith
shall carry me
the rest of the way.

death always moves forward
from a distance
it’s a tiny white dot
on the horizon
growing in mass,
devouring the landscape.
soon it will be here.
what it leaves behind
will barely mark the ground.

Nanook walks in silence
snorting once in a while
out of despair; or out of impatience?
when Nanook arrives
nothing will matter.

I shall not interrupt death
or its intentions.
I accept
Nanook’s breath is upon me
it’s eyes searching for fear
finding nothing but a void.
Nanook snorts,
disappointed.

You’ve no life to give 
bland individual. 
You’ve no color
or substance.

Nanook snorts
turns away.
I rise
and follow death
across the ice.

pt.2

no one questions where death goes
when darkness arrives
and cold bites your bones.
the total sum of our existence
is revealed in a heartbeat.
we are all just snowflakes
falling from the abyss.

I follow Nanook across the tundra
blistering snow and howling winds
strike everything.
a memory of the midnight sun
lightens the darkness of my mind. 
as I mark Nanook’s footprints with my own
I muse in thought
does she exist beyond my sight
and if so, is she thinking of me?

can I ask a question?
where do you go when darkness arrives?
why can I only see you
in my mind?

the Midnight sun
passes through my mind
falling beyond my reach
beyond the horizon
into the darkness.

pt.3

fate’s nectar is blood;
for those seeking to survive
we forge the landscape
acting as death’s agent.
provisional life exists for all
no matter where we are.

Nanook moves effortlessly
until the cavern of lights appears;
the entrance to the heart of life
can only be accessed
at death’s request.

each of us carries the cavern of life;
it is in our blind spot
but only a few
understand its purpose.

walls cleaved from ice
buffed to a glistening sheen
a millennia of effort
to reflect one’s disposition.

pt.4

life carries life;
I am nurtured by the vastness
a place where the midnight sun
hides her face from those seeking life.
from the sea of richness, I consume
killing to sustain my existence
what falls from my mouth
others will consume.
for their own survival.

my irreverence comes naturally
for how could it not
being born of the tundra?
my only inheritance
are the hands given
and the mind to navigate them.

this landscape develops forsaken hearts
harsh conditions chisel a soul
until nothing but flesh remains.
I fear not death
for I am death.

pt.5

The walls of the cavern flash violently
like lightning streaking across the sky
my body vibrates from shockwaves
shaking me to the ground
Nanook’s jaw grips my neck
releasing my life blood
tonight I die in the cavern of lights
wondering where the midnight sun
rests her head.

As I lay on the ice
blood trickling from my body
I feel Nanook’s breath upon my neck
and look deep into the eyes of death.

Now you understand

Nanook walks away
into the vast tundra  
seeking another life;
in my loneliness
the lights start to dim
the cavern encloses.
far in the distance
a pinpoint of light appears
I begin to believe
the midnight sun
has come to take me home.

Author Michael Plante
Edited with the assistance of Marie Metaphor Specht
Image: Arctic Polar Bear, StockCake Royalty-free Webpage.
Artist unknown.

Thank you for visiting The Poet’s House

A Dog With No Tale

My name is Pamiuq
it means “dog with no tail”
I was born in the tundra
a vast nothingness
that leads to my feet.

Only fate can distribute calamity
and the tundra is full of it.
It rises like snow drifts in winter
and sings through blistering winds
when the midnight sun has disappeared.

It breaks the very ice you stand on
into pieces that will drift away
on the rich sea
that sustains life.
I am left to roam
in search of food
to sustain life.

I am not a wise man
nor one of intelligence.
My talent is survival
which I execute daily.
I understand hunger
and I understand death.
Here on the tundra
this is all we have.

 pt.1

desolate
the tundra kills;
cold and pure
as it should be.
fearless, I watch
as death approaches.

I lay in a snow drift
it coddles my body,
my only wound
is not knowing.
so-be-it,
I cannot care.

what steps I took
have gotten me here
fate; and faith
shall carry me
the rest of the way.

death always moves forward
from a distance
it’s a tiny white dot
on the horizon
growing in mass,
devouring the landscape.
soon it will be here.
what it leaves behind
will barely mark the ground.

Nanook walks in silence
snorting once in a while
out of despair; or out of impatience?
when Nanook arrives
nothing will matter.

I shall not interrupt death
or its intentions.
I accept
Nanook’s breath is upon me
it’s eyes searching for fear
finding nothing but a void.
Nanook snorts,
disappointed.

You’ve no life to give 
bland individual. 
You’ve no color
or substance.

Nanook snorts
turns away.
I rise
and follow death
across the ice.

pt.2

no one questions where death goes
when darkness arrives
and cold bites your bones.
the total sum of our existence
is revealed in a heartbeat.
we are all just snowflakes
falling from the abyss.

I follow Nanook across the tundra
blistering snow and howling winds
strike everything.
a memory of the midnight sun
lightens the darkness of my mind. 
as I mark Nanook’s footprints with my own
I muse in thought
does she exist beyond my sight
and if so, is she thinking of me?

can I ask a question?
where do you go when darkness arrives?
why can I only see you
in my mind?

the Midnight sun
passes through my mind
falling beyond my reach
beyond the horizon
into the darkness.

pt.3

fate’s nectar is blood;
for those seeking to survive
we forge the landscape
acting as death’s agent.
provisional life exists for all
no matter where we are.

Nanook moves effortlessly
until the cavern of lights appears;
the entrance to the heart of life
can only be accessed
at death’s request.

each of us carries the cavern of life;
it is in our blind spot
but only a few
understand its purpose.

walls cleaved from ice
buffed to a glistening sheen
a millennia of effort
to reflect one’s disposition.

pt.4

life carries life;
I am nurtured by the vastness
a place where the midnight sun
hides her face from those seeking life.
from the sea of richness, I consume
killing to sustain my existence
what falls from my mouth
others will consume.
for their own survival.

my irreverence comes naturally
for how could it not
being born of the tundra?
my only inheritance
are the hands given
and the mind to navigate them.

this landscape develops forsaken hearts
harsh conditions chisel a soul
until nothing but flesh remains.
I fear not death
for I am death.

pt.5

The walls of the cavern flash violently
like lightning streaking across the sky
my body vibrates from shockwaves
shaking me to the ground
Nanook’s jaw grips my neck
releasing my life blood
tonight I die in the cavern of lights
wondering where the midnight sun
rests her head.

As I lay on the ice
blood trickling from my body
I feel Nanook’s breath upon my neck
and look deep into the eyes of death.

Now you understand

Nanook walks away
into the vast tundra  
seeking another life;
in my loneliness
the lights start to dim
the cavern encloses.
far in the distance
a pinpoint of light appears
I begin to believe
the midnight sun
has come to take me home.

Author Michael Plante
Edited with the assistance of Marie Metaphor Specht
Image: Arctic Polar Bear, StockCake Royalty-free Webpage.
Artist unknown.

Thank you for visiting The Poet’s House

A Dog With No Tale

My name is Pamiuq
it means “dog with no tail”
I was born in the tundra
a vast nothingness
that leads to my feet.

Only fate can distribute calamity
and the tundra is full of it.
It rises like snow drifts in winter
and sings through blistering winds
when the midnight sun has disappeared.

It breaks the very ice you stand on
into pieces that will drift away
on the rich sea
that sustains life.
I am left to roam
in search of food
to sustain life.

I am not a wise man
nor one of intelligence.
My talent is survival
which I execute daily.
I understand hunger
and I understand death.
Here on the tundra
this is all we have.

 pt.1

desolate
the tundra kills;
cold and pure
as it should be.
fearless, I watch
as death approaches.

I lay in a snow drift
it coddles my body,
my only wound
is not knowing.
so-be-it,
I cannot care.

what steps I took
have gotten me here
fate; and faith
shall carry me
the rest of the way.

death always moves forward
from a distance
it’s a tiny white dot
on the horizon
growing in mass,
devouring the landscape.
soon it will be here.
what it leaves behind
will barely mark the ground.

Nanook walks in silence
snorting once in a while
out of despair; or out of impatience?
when Nanook arrives
nothing will matter.

I shall not interrupt death
or its intentions.
I accept
Nanook’s breath is upon me
it’s eyes searching for fear
finding nothing but a void.
Nanook snorts,
disappointed.

You’ve no life to give 
bland individual. 
You’ve no color
or substance.

Nanook snorts
turns away.
I rise
and follow death
across the ice.

pt.2

no one questions where death goes
when darkness arrives
and cold bites your bones.
the total sum of our existence
is revealed in a heartbeat.
we are all just snowflakes
falling from the abyss.

I follow Nanook across the tundra
blistering snow and howling winds
strike everything.
a memory of the midnight sun
lightens the darkness of my mind. 
as I mark Nanook’s footprints with my own
I muse in thought
does she exist beyond my sight
and if so, is she thinking of me?

can I ask a question?
where do you go when darkness arrives?
why can I only see you
in my mind?

the Midnight sun
passes through my mind
falling beyond my reach
beyond the horizon
into the darkness.

pt.3

fate’s nectar is blood;
for those seeking to survive
we forge the landscape
acting as death’s agent.
provisional life exists for all
no matter where we are.

Nanook moves effortlessly
until the cavern of lights appears;
the entrance to the heart of life
can only be accessed
at death’s request.

each of us carries the cavern of life;
it is in our blind spot
but only a few
understand its purpose.

walls cleaved from ice
buffed to a glistening sheen
a millennia of effort
to reflect one’s disposition.

pt.4

life carries life;
I am nurtured by the vastness
a place where the midnight sun
hides her face from those seeking life.
from the sea of richness, I consume
killing to sustain my existence
what falls from my mouth
others will consume.
for their own survival.

my irreverence comes naturally
for how could it not
being born of the tundra?
my only inheritance
are the hands given
and the mind to navigate them.

this landscape develops forsaken hearts
harsh conditions chisel a soul
until nothing but flesh remains.
I fear not death
for I am death.

pt.5

The walls of the cavern flash violently
like lightning streaking across the sky
my body vibrates from shockwaves
shaking me to the ground
Nanook’s jaw grips my neck
releasing my life blood
tonight I die in the cavern of lights
wondering where the midnight sun
rests her head.

As I lay on the ice
blood trickling from my body
I feel Nanook’s breath upon my neck
and look deep into the eyes of death.

Now you understand

Nanook walks away
into the vast tundra  
seeking another life;
in my loneliness
the lights start to dim
the cavern encloses.
far in the distance
a pinpoint of light appears
I begin to believe
the midnight sun
has come to take me home.

Author Michael Plante
Edited with the assistance of Marie Metaphor Specht
Image: Arctic Polar Bear, StockCake Royalty-free Webpage.
Artist unknown.

Thank you for visiting The Poet’s House

A Dog With No Tale

My name is Pamiuq
it means “dog with no tail”
I was born in the tundra
a vast nothingness
that leads to my feet.

Only fate can distribute calamity
and the tundra is full of it.
It rises like snow drifts in winter
and sings through blistering winds
when the midnight sun has disappeared.

It breaks the very ice you stand on
into pieces that will drift away
on the rich sea
that sustains life.
I am left to roam
in search of food
to sustain life.

I am not a wise man
nor one of intelligence.
My talent is survival
which I execute daily.
I understand hunger
and I understand death.
Here on the tundra
this is all we have.

 pt.1

desolate
the tundra kills;
cold and pure
as it should be.
fearless, I watch
as death approaches.

I lay in a snow drift
it coddles my body,
my only wound
is not knowing.
so-be-it,
I cannot care.

what steps I took
have gotten me here
fate; and faith
shall carry me
the rest of the way.

death always moves forward
from a distance
it’s a tiny white dot
on the horizon
growing in mass,
devouring the landscape.
soon it will be here.
what it leaves behind
will barely mark the ground.

Nanook walks in silence
snorting once in a while
out of despair; or out of impatience?
when Nanook arrives
nothing will matter.

I shall not interrupt death
or its intentions.
I accept
Nanook’s breath is upon me
it’s eyes searching for fear
finding nothing but a void.
Nanook snorts,
disappointed.

You’ve no life to give 
bland individual. 
You’ve no color
or substance.

Nanook snorts
turns away.
I rise
and follow death
across the ice.

pt.2

no one questions where death goes
when darkness arrives
and cold bites your bones.
the total sum of our existence
is revealed in a heartbeat.
we are all just snowflakes
falling from the abyss.

I follow Nanook across the tundra
blistering snow and howling winds
strike everything.
a memory of the midnight sun
lightens the darkness of my mind. 
as I mark Nanook’s footprints with my own
I muse in thought
does she exist beyond my sight
and if so, is she thinking of me?

can I ask a question?
where do you go when darkness arrives?
why can I only see you
in my mind?

the Midnight sun
passes through my mind
falling beyond my reach
beyond the horizon
into the darkness.

pt.3

fate’s nectar is blood;
for those seeking to survive
we forge the landscape
acting as death’s agent.
provisional life exists for all
no matter where we are.

Nanook moves effortlessly
until the cavern of lights appears;
the entrance to the heart of life
can only be accessed
at death’s request.

each of us carries the cavern of life;
it is in our blind spot
but only a few
understand its purpose.

walls cleaved from ice
buffed to a glistening sheen
a millennia of effort
to reflect one’s disposition.

pt.4

life carries life;
I am nurtured by the vastness
a place where the midnight sun
hides her face from those seeking life.
from the sea of richness, I consume
killing to sustain my existence
what falls from my mouth
others will consume.
for their own survival.

my irreverence comes naturally
for how could it not
being born of the tundra?
my only inheritance
are the hands given
and the mind to navigate them.

this landscape develops forsaken hearts
harsh conditions chisel a soul
until nothing but flesh remains.
I fear not death
for I am death.

pt.5

The walls of the cavern flash violently
like lightning streaking across the sky
my body vibrates from shockwaves
shaking me to the ground
Nanook’s jaw grips my neck
releasing my life blood
tonight I die in the cavern of lights
wondering where the midnight sun
rests her head.

As I lay on the ice
blood trickling from my body
I feel Nanook’s breath upon my neck
and look deep into the eyes of death.

Now you understand

Nanook walks away
into the vast tundra  
seeking another life;
in my loneliness
the lights start to dim
the cavern encloses.
far in the distance
a pinpoint of light appears
I begin to believe
the midnight sun
has come to take me home.

Author Michael Plante
Edited with the assistance of Marie Metaphor Specht
Image: Arctic Polar Bear, StockCake Royalty-free Webpage.
Artist unknown.

Thank you for visiting The Poet’s House

A Dog With No Tale

My name is Pamiuq
it means “dog with no tail”
I was born in the tundra
a vast nothingness
that leads to my feet.

Only fate can distribute calamity
and the tundra is full of it.
It rises like snow drifts in winter
and sings through blistering winds
when the midnight sun has disappeared.

It breaks the very ice you stand on
into pieces that will drift away
on the rich sea
that sustains life.
I am left to roam
in search of food
to sustain life.

I am not a wise man
nor one of intelligence.
My talent is survival
which I execute daily.
I understand hunger
and I understand death.
Here on the tundra
this is all we have.

 pt.1

desolate
the tundra kills;
cold and pure
as it should be.
fearless, I watch
as death approaches.

I lay in a snow drift
it coddles my body,
my only wound
is not knowing.
so-be-it,
I cannot care.

what steps I took
have gotten me here
fate; and faith
shall carry me
the rest of the way.

death always moves forward
from a distance
it’s a tiny white dot
on the horizon
growing in mass,
devouring the landscape.
soon it will be here.
what it leaves behind
will barely mark the ground.

Nanook walks in silence
snorting once in a while
out of despair; or out of impatience?
when Nanook arrives
nothing will matter.

I shall not interrupt death
or its intentions.
I accept
Nanook’s breath is upon me
it’s eyes searching for fear
finding nothing but a void.
Nanook snorts,
disappointed.

You’ve no life to give 
bland individual. 
You’ve no color
or substance.

Nanook snorts
turns away.
I rise
and follow death
across the ice.

pt.2

no one questions where death goes
when darkness arrives
and cold bites your bones.
the total sum of our existence
is revealed in a heartbeat.
we are all just snowflakes
falling from the abyss.

I follow Nanook across the tundra
blistering snow and howling winds
strike everything.
a memory of the midnight sun
lightens the darkness of my mind. 
as I mark Nanook’s footprints with my own
I muse in thought
does she exist beyond my sight
and if so, is she thinking of me?

can I ask a question?
where do you go when darkness arrives?
why can I only see you
in my mind?

the Midnight sun
passes through my mind
falling beyond my reach
beyond the horizon
into the darkness.

pt.3

fate’s nectar is blood;
for those seeking to survive
we forge the landscape
acting as death’s agent.
provisional life exists for all
no matter where we are.

Nanook moves effortlessly
until the cavern of lights appears;
the entrance to the heart of life
can only be accessed
at death’s request.

each of us carries the cavern of life;
it is in our blind spot
but only a few
understand its purpose.

walls cleaved from ice
buffed to a glistening sheen
a millennia of effort
to reflect one’s disposition.

pt.4

life carries life;
I am nurtured by the vastness
a place where the midnight sun
hides her face from those seeking life.
from the sea of richness, I consume
killing to sustain my existence
what falls from my mouth
others will consume.
for their own survival.

my irreverence comes naturally
for how could it not
being born of the tundra?
my only inheritance
are the hands given
and the mind to navigate them.

this landscape develops forsaken hearts
harsh conditions chisel a soul
until nothing but flesh remains.
I fear not death
for I am death.

pt.5

The walls of the cavern flash violently
like lightning streaking across the sky
my body vibrates from shockwaves
shaking me to the ground
Nanook’s jaw grips my neck
releasing my life blood
tonight I die in the cavern of lights
wondering where the midnight sun
rests her head.

As I lay on the ice
blood trickling from my body
I feel Nanook’s breath upon my neck
and look deep into the eyes of death.

Now you understand

Nanook walks away
into the vast tundra  
seeking another life;
in my loneliness
the lights start to dim
the cavern encloses.
far in the distance
a pinpoint of light appears
I begin to believe
the midnight sun
has come to take me home.

Author Michael Plante
Edited with the assistance of Marie Metaphor Specht
Image: Arctic Polar Bear, StockCake Royalty-free Webpage.
Artist unknown.

Thank you for visiting The Poet’s House

✮ On Different Frequencies ✮

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✮ On Different Frequencies ✮

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✮ On Different Frequencies ✮

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✮ After-Dinner Breakfast ✮

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✮ After-Dinner Breakfast ✮

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✮ After-Dinner Breakfast ✮

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✮ Wick ✮

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✮ Wick ✮

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✮ Wick ✮

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✮ Razorblade Sundae ✮

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✮ Razorblade Sundae ✮

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✮ Razorblade Sundae ✮

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✮ Talking to a Stone ✮

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✮ Talking to a Stone ✮

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✮ Talking to a Stone ✮

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✮ Wink Wink ✮

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✮ Lady Green Sat on a Cob ✮

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✮ Lady Green Sat on a Cob ✮

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✮ Lady Green Sat on a Cob ✮

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✮ Long Way Down ✮

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✮ Long Way Down ✮

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✮ Long Way Down ✮

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✮ Play It to the Bone ✮

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✮ Play It to the Bone ✮

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✮ Play It to the Bone ✮

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BLUDGEONING #poetry by jay

https://artistfromtheinsideout.wordpress.com/2026/07/27/bludgeoning-poetry-by-jay-2/

The Silver Strand

returning 
to the car 
i see
a silver strand 
intent on 
capturing me
 
i was gone 
but a moment 
yet the spider 
did spin
from the mirror 
across the window 
to lure 
me in
 
it seems 
this small one 
dreams of 
bigger prey
so too I 
if to my path 
I stay

this bit 
of web 
is a 
flimsy thing
but if 
I cast 
it not
i snare 
nothing

July 2, 2016

The Silver Strand

returning 
to the car 
i see
a silver strand 
intent on 
capturing me
 
i was gone 
but a moment 
yet the spider 
did spin
from the mirror 
across the window 
to lure 
me in
 
it seems 
this small one 
dreams of 
bigger prey
so too I 
if to my path 
I stay

this bit 
of web 
is a 
flimsy thing
but if 
I cast 
it not
i snare 
nothing

July 2, 2016

The Silver Strand

returning 
to the car 
i see
a silver strand 
intent on 
capturing me
 
i was gone 
but a moment 
yet the spider 
did spin
from the mirror 
across the window 
to lure 
me in
 
it seems 
this small one 
dreams of 
bigger prey
so too I 
if to my path 
I stay

this bit 
of web 
is a 
flimsy thing
but if 
I cast 
it not
i snare 
nothing

July 2, 2016

The Silver Strand

returning 
to the car 
i see
a silver strand 
intent on 
capturing me
 
i was gone 
but a moment 
yet the spider 
did spin
from the mirror 
across the window 
to lure 
me in
 
it seems 
this small one 
dreams of 
bigger prey
so too I 
if to my path 
I stay

this bit 
of web 
is a 
flimsy thing
but if 
I cast 
it not
i snare 
nothing

July 2, 2016

Lover’s Abyss

I was told as a young child
You can dream of anything
So, I dreamed I was a blue horse
midnight blue with a touch of white
gracefully strong
unafraid of the world
accepting of the unknown
beautiful essence
assuring eyes.

I was told as a student
You can’t dream anymore
its time to grow up
learn how to be an adult
learn to be practical
understand your place
abide by our laws.

As an adult
I was told
You’re a lot of trouble
try harder to fit in
let go of that childhood dream
stop messing around
be something.

I traveled this world
in spite of people’s viewpoint
I traveled as a blue horse.
Unafraid
Accepting
Assured and complete.

I saw a blue horse
with a daisy behind her ear
standing alone.
Sky blue she was
as were her eyes.
Gracefully she moved
towards the crest of twilight.
I asked if she wanted company?
She said, yes.

Beyond the crest we disappeared
into our abyss where our solitude awaited
playing with season flowers
and coupling under the stars.

The eternity we exist in
is the eternity we make.

Author Michael Plante
Image: Blue Horse (A.I. Generated) artis Unknown.

Lover’s Abyss

I was told as a young child
You can dream of anything
So, I dreamed I was a blue horse
midnight blue with a touch of white
gracefully strong
unafraid of the world
accepting of the unknown
beautiful essence
assuring eyes.

I was told as a student
You can’t dream anymore
its time to grow up
learn how to be an adult
learn to be practical
understand your place
abide by our laws.

As an adult
I was told
You’re a lot of trouble
try harder to fit in
let go of that childhood dream
stop messing around
be something.

I traveled this world
in spite of people’s viewpoint
I traveled as a blue horse.
Unafraid
Accepting
Assured and complete.

I saw a blue horse
with a daisy behind her ear
standing alone.
Sky blue she was
as were her eyes.
Gracefully she moved
towards the crest of twilight.
I asked if she wanted company?
She said, yes.

Beyond the crest we disappeared
into our abyss where our solitude awaited
playing with season flowers
and coupling under the stars.

The eternity we exist in
is the eternity we make.

Author Michael Plante
Image: Blue Horse (A.I. Generated) artis Unknown.

Lover’s Abyss

I was told as a young child
You can dream of anything
So, I dreamed I was a blue horse
midnight blue with a touch of white
gracefully strong
unafraid of the world
accepting of the unknown
beautiful essence
assuring eyes.

I was told as a student
You can’t dream anymore
its time to grow up
learn how to be an adult
learn to be practical
understand your place
abide by our laws.

As an adult
I was told
You’re a lot of trouble
try harder to fit in
let go of that childhood dream
stop messing around
be something.

I traveled this world
in spite of people’s viewpoint
I traveled as a blue horse.
Unafraid
Accepting
Assured and complete.

I saw a blue horse
with a daisy behind her ear
standing alone.
Sky blue she was
as were her eyes.
Gracefully she moved
towards the crest of twilight.
I asked if she wanted company?
She said, yes.

Beyond the crest we disappeared
into our abyss where our solitude awaited
playing with season flowers
and coupling under the stars.

The eternity we exist in
is the eternity we make.

Author Michael Plante
Image: Blue Horse (A.I. Generated) artis Unknown.

Lover’s Abyss

I was told as a young child
You can dream of anything
So, I dreamed I was a blue horse
midnight blue with a touch of white
gracefully strong
unafraid of the world
accepting of the unknown
beautiful essence
assuring eyes.

I was told as a student
You can’t dream anymore
its time to grow up
learn how to be an adult
learn to be practical
understand your place
abide by our laws.

As an adult
I was told
You’re a lot of trouble
try harder to fit in
let go of that childhood dream
stop messing around
be something.

I traveled this world
in spite of people’s viewpoint
I traveled as a blue horse.
Unafraid
Accepting
Assured and complete.

I saw a blue horse
with a daisy behind her ear
standing alone.
Sky blue she was
as were her eyes.
Gracefully she moved
towards the crest of twilight.
I asked if she wanted company?
She said, yes.

Beyond the crest we disappeared
into our abyss where our solitude awaited
playing with season flowers
and coupling under the stars.

The eternity we exist in
is the eternity we make.

Author Michael Plante
Image: Blue Horse (A.I. Generated) artis Unknown.

Lover’s Abyss

I was told as a young child
You can dream of anything
So, I dreamed I was a blue horse
midnight blue with a touch of white
gracefully strong
unafraid of the world
accepting of the unknown
beautiful essence
assuring eyes.

I was told as a student
You can’t dream anymore
its time to grow up
learn how to be an adult
learn to be practical
understand your place
abide by our laws.

As an adult
I was told
You’re a lot of trouble
try harder to fit in
let go of that childhood dream
stop messing around
be something.

I traveled this world
in spite of people’s viewpoint
I traveled as a blue horse.
Unafraid
Accepting
Assured and complete.

I saw a blue horse
with a daisy behind her ear
standing alone.
Sky blue she was
as were her eyes.
Gracefully she moved
towards the crest of twilight.
I asked if she wanted company?
She said, yes.

Beyond the crest we disappeared
into our abyss where our solitude awaited
playing with season flowers
and coupling under the stars.

The eternity we exist in
is the eternity we make.

Author Michael Plante
Image: Blue Horse (A.I. Generated) artis Unknown.

✮ A Butterfly’s Twilight Song ✮

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✮ A Butterfly’s Twilight Song ✮

Subscribe to keep reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

✮ A Butterfly’s Twilight Song ✮

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Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

River Rock Canada

Light my soul on fire
remind me why I’m here
let my lungs fill with the air of fire
that sparks the fury of the midnight sun
so those lost in the darkness
can find their way home.

Let my words fall like river rock
to the shores of a land others seek
may my brothers and sister pick up the stones
and forge a wall out of sweat and pride
reminding all that arrive
our pride runs deeper than the soil we stand upon.

May shame never hold our hearts from our truth
for we all bear scars of the past
yet when we all stand in unison
as a nation under guard
the maple leaf forms
between the roof of the Creator
and a land we call Canada.

Our truth undenied
fall like rain from the sky
cleansing our soul
and rejuvenating our belief
that land and the sea
is granted to us
as way to the Creator himself.

Before the eye of Creator closes
before twilight descends upon us
may we grace the heart of nobility
carrying our traditions
into the darkness
like true Canadians.

Author Michael Plante

River Rock Canada

Light my soul on fire
remind me why I’m here
let my lungs fill with the air of fire
that sparks the fury of the midnight sun
so those lost in the darkness
can find their way home.

Let my words fall like river rock
to the shores of a land others seek
may my brothers and sister pick up the stones
and forge a wall out of sweat and pride
reminding all that arrive
our pride runs deeper than the soil we stand upon.

May shame never hold our hearts from our truth
for we all bear scars of the past
yet when we all stand in unison
as a nation under guard
the maple leaf forms
between the roof of the Creator
and a land we call Canada.

Our truth undenied
fall like rain from the sky
cleansing our soul
and rejuvenating our belief
that land and the sea
is granted to us
as way to the Creator himself.

Before the eye of Creator closes
before twilight descends upon us
may we grace the heart of nobility
carrying our traditions
into the darkness
like true Canadians.

Author Michael Plante

River Rock Canada

Light my soul on fire
remind me why I’m here
let my lungs fill with the air of fire
that sparks the fury of the midnight sun
so those lost in the darkness
can find their way home.

Let my words fall like river rock
to the shores of a land others seek
may my brothers and sister pick up the stones
and forge a wall out of sweat and pride
reminding all that arrive
our pride runs deeper than the soil we stand upon.

May shame never hold our hearts from our truth
for we all bear scars of the past
yet when we all stand in unison
as a nation under guard
the maple leaf forms
between the roof of the Creator
and a land we call Canada.

Our truth undenied
fall like rain from the sky
cleansing our soul
and rejuvenating our belief
that land and the sea
is granted to us
as way to the Creator himself.

Before the eye of Creator closes
before twilight descends upon us
may we grace the heart of nobility
carrying our traditions
into the darkness
like true Canadians.

Author Michael Plante

River Rock Canada

Light my soul on fire
remind me why I’m here
let my lungs fill with the air of fire
that sparks the fury of the midnight sun
so those lost in the darkness
can find their way home.

Let my words fall like river rock
to the shores of a land others seek
may my brothers and sister pick up the stones
and forge a wall out of sweat and pride
reminding all that arrive
our pride runs deeper than the soil we stand upon.

May shame never hold our hearts from our truth
for we all bear scars of the past
yet when we all stand in unison
as a nation under guard
the maple leaf forms
between the roof of the Creator
and a land we call Canada.

Our truth undenied
fall like rain from the sky
cleansing our soul
and rejuvenating our belief
that land and the sea
is granted to us
as way to the Creator himself.

Before the eye of Creator closes
before twilight descends upon us
may we grace the heart of nobility
carrying our traditions
into the darkness
like true Canadians.

Author Michael Plante

River Rock Canada

Light my soul on fire
remind me why I’m here
let my lungs fill with the air of fire
that sparks the fury of the midnight sun
so those lost in the darkness
can find their way home.

Let my words fall like river rock
to the shores of a land others seek
may my brothers and sister pick up the stones
and forge a wall out of sweat and pride
reminding all that arrive
our pride runs deeper than the soil we stand upon.

May shame never hold our hearts from our truth
for we all bear scars of the past
yet when we all stand in unison
as a nation under guard
the maple leaf forms
between the roof of the Creator
and a land we call Canada.

Our truth undenied
fall like rain from the sky
cleansing our soul
and rejuvenating our belief
that land and the sea
is granted to us
as way to the Creator himself.

Before the eye of Creator closes
before twilight descends upon us
may we grace the heart of nobility
carrying our traditions
into the darkness
like true Canadians.

Author Michael Plante

Next To Heaven

I can imagine
that clouds are really
upside down icebergs
crossing the sky
and that Newfoundland
lays next to heaven.

I can imagine
that the smell of wildflowers
come to us
by passing ships
on infinite horizons
that our ancestors steer.

I can wish on stars
that fall from the night sky
keeping their promise in my heart
as the night wind carry dreams
that fill the minds and hearts
of tomorrow’s leaders.

I can hope
I can dream
next to heaven.

Author Michael Plante

Next To Heaven

I can imagine
that clouds are really
upside down icebergs
crossing the sky
and that Newfoundland
lays next to heaven.

I can imagine
that the smell of wildflowers
come to us
by passing ships
on infinite horizons
that our ancestors steer.

I can wish on stars
that fall from the night sky
keeping their promise in my heart
as the night wind carry dreams
that fill the minds and hearts
of tomorrow’s leaders.

I can hope
I can dream
next to heaven.

Author Michael Plante

Next To Heaven

I can imagine
that clouds are really
upside down icebergs
crossing the sky
and that Newfoundland
lays next to heaven.

I can imagine
that the smell of wildflowers
come to us
by passing ships
on infinite horizons
that our ancestors steer.

I can wish on stars
that fall from the night sky
keeping their promise in my heart
as the night wind carry dreams
that fill the minds and hearts
of tomorrow’s leaders.

I can hope
I can dream
next to heaven.

Author Michael Plante

Next To Heaven

I can imagine
that clouds are really
upside down icebergs
crossing the sky
and that Newfoundland
lays next to heaven.

I can imagine
that the smell of wildflowers
come to us
by passing ships
on infinite horizons
that our ancestors steer.

I can wish on stars
that fall from the night sky
keeping their promise in my heart
as the night wind carry dreams
that fill the minds and hearts
of tomorrow’s leaders.

I can hope
I can dream
next to heaven.

Author Michael Plante

Next To Heaven

I can imagine
that clouds are really
upside down icebergs
crossing the sky
and that Newfoundland
lays next to heaven.

I can imagine
that the smell of wildflowers
come to us
by passing ships
on infinite horizons
that our ancestors steer.

I can wish on stars
that fall from the night sky
keeping their promise in my heart
as the night wind carry dreams
that fill the minds and hearts
of tomorrow’s leaders.

I can hope
I can dream
next to heaven.

Author Michael Plante

Yesterday, I used the air conditioning in my car, making the world just-a-little hotter for everyone else.

We burned the oil, and the price turns out to be hotter than we realised.

🥵🥵🥵

#FreeVerse #Poetry #Lament for our #Stupidity...

Yesterday, I used the air conditioning in my car, making the world just-a-little hotter for everyone else.

We burned the oil, and the price turns out to be hotter than we realised.

🥵🥵🥵

#FreeVerse #Poetry #Lament for our #Stupidity...

Yesterday, I used the air conditioning in my car, making the world just-a-little hotter for everyone else.

We burned the oil, and the price turns out to be hotter than we realised.

🥵🥵🥵

#FreeVerse #Poetry #Lament for our #Stupidity...

Cooksville Creek

a wooded area with a little creek
captures the imagination of a child
a day’s solace could be found
or tears hidden away from inquisitive eyes.
even death visits and speaks
not yet child
so endurance is the day’s lesson.

laughter fades when the streetlights come on
as slow-footed children make their way home.
twilight’s gleaming applauds their efforts
as the night chariots stream across the sky.
before I leave, I skip one last stone
ensuring my place in history.

when death arrives, I shall ask one thing
may my spirit be allowed to walk home
along the path that cuts deep into my soul.
for to hear the laughter of children
is a sonnet to my existence
as the trickling waters resonates
what kept me alive all these years.

Author Michael Plante

Cooksville Creek

a wooded area with a little creek
captures the imagination of a child
a day’s solace could be found
or tears hidden away from inquisitive eyes.
even death visits and speaks
not yet child
so endurance is the day’s lesson.

laughter fades when the streetlights come on
as slow-footed children make their way home.
twilight’s gleaming applauds their efforts
as the night chariots stream across the sky.
before I leave, I skip one last stone
ensuring my place in history.

when death arrives, I shall ask one thing
may my spirit be allowed to walk home
along the path that cuts deep into my soul.
for to hear the laughter of children
is a sonnet to my existence
as the trickling waters resonates
what kept me alive all these years.

Author Michael Plante

Cooksville Creek

a wooded area with a little creek
captures the imagination of a child
a day’s solace could be found
or tears hidden away from inquisitive eyes.
even death visits and speaks
not yet child
so endurance is the day’s lesson.

laughter fades when the streetlights come on
as slow-footed children make their way home.
twilight’s gleaming applauds their efforts
as the night chariots stream across the sky.
before I leave, I skip one last stone
ensuring my place in history.

when death arrives, I shall ask one thing
may my spirit be allowed to walk home
along the path that cuts deep into my soul.
for to hear the laughter of children
is a sonnet to my existence
as the trickling waters resonates
what kept me alive all these years.

Author Michael Plante

Cooksville Creek

a wooded area with a little creek
captures the imagination of a child
a day’s solace could be found
or tears hidden away from inquisitive eyes.
even death visits and speaks
not yet child
so endurance is the day’s lesson.

laughter fades when the streetlights come on
as slow-footed children make their way home.
twilight’s gleaming applauds their efforts
as the night chariots stream across the sky.
before I leave, I skip one last stone
ensuring my place in history.

when death arrives, I shall ask one thing
may my spirit be allowed to walk home
along the path that cuts deep into my soul.
for to hear the laughter of children
is a sonnet to my existence
as the trickling waters resonates
what kept me alive all these years.

Author Michael Plante