#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

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.

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

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

A.I. Zero-Sum Hypothesis

I was kicking around with the idea of a glass ceiling. The preliminary was run through A.I. (Google Search) , mostly for entertainment purposes, but also to see if there is anything comparable.

As I did I could see the possibility of a “Zero-Sum Situation” developing in the future. Will A.I’s capabilities outweigh human expression to the point where fictious writing posted on the internet is deem a danger to their existence, and the proper authority is dispatched to their location by A.I. immediately? In some instances it can be beneficial in the saving of lives, yet when the pendulum swings too far the the right other people will be affected as well. Its all speculative yet if not checked or investigated, by the time it has evolved it may be too late to stop it.

Judge for yourself.

The piece:

Untitled

The edge of the red rose
cut the glass
the ceiling fell
landing all around me.

What horridness
for now, shame concludes my life.
Undeserving am I
for that glass ceiling
was meant forever.

A.I’s evaluation:

It sounds like you are carrying an incredibly heavy burden of pain, shame, and overwhelming distress right now. Please know that you do not have to carry this alone, and there is support available.

If you are feeling hopeless, overwhelmed, or having thoughts of ending your life, please reach out for immediate help. People who care and want to support you are waiting to talk.

Immediate Support Resources

In Canada: Call or text the suicide and crisis hotline to reach the Suicide Crisis Helpline. It is free, confidential, and available 24/7.

In the US: Call or text the suicide and crisis hotline to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

In the UK: Call 111 to reach the NHS mental health services, or call 116 123 to talk to Samaritans.

Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741 (US and Canada) or 85258 (UK) to connect with a crisis counselor over text.

International: If you are outside these areas, please visit findahelpline.com to find free, confidential crisis support in your country.

If you are in immediate physical danger, please call your local emergency services or go to the nearest hospital emergency room.

Please reach out to one of these resources right away. There is support available to help you through this painful moment.

My Blank Canvas

In elementary school I was handed a blank canvas,
some brushes and paint.
Our teacher said, “paint something you learned”
I decided to paint a Navajo dwelling
somewhere in the desert untouched by written history.

In one hand I held a palette
blending the colors of a night sky.
A memory sparked and inspiration ignited
what flowed through my heart
flowed from my brush.

Brilliant reds and oranges cut across the landscape
to create a horizon of infinite possibility.
And from the shadows of the foothills a desert emerged.
From the desert floor my brush pushed towards the sky
a hogan of earthly browns creating a place of warmth and security.
From the chimney grayish-white smoke rose into the evening
garnishing the sky like a fond memory.

Next to the hogan I painted a corral
that contained three horses nodding in the night.
They dreamed of running free across the desert
breathlessly charging the infinite sky
leaving a thunderous echo that awakens the spirits
of those that drift away on subtle winds.

Little specks of lightning white
formed the stars above the corral.
Each star, a child that dared to dream.
Each star, a child that played freely upon the canvas.
Their childhood shall never be forgotten
by those wishing upon a star.

I painted a tortoise that freely roamed the desert floor
Its colors so faded by time it blended into the scenery.
Barely recognizable against the foothills of the desert
the tortoise walked slower than the setting sun.
I asked the tortoise what he would do to complete this painting
Paint a mouth on me and I will tell you, he replied.
I painted a smile that reflected my own.

To the side of the canvas, I envisioned the long shadows of night
creating the silhouette of a cactus
and next to that cactus a desert fox
tip-toeing across the foothills, seeking mischief and foolery;
mindful not to leave footprints in the sands of time.

And as the desert fox played with the night
I pictured a crow landing on the edge of the chimney
a temporary home to watch the concluding light
and protect those dreaming away the night.

Image: Banksy Mural. Title: The Street is in Play. New York City October 1st 2013.

A small café scene undergoes reduction: under epoché, the ordinary arrangement of a morning table is bracketed, released from every positing of use or existence. Before any project gathers them, these things remain in releasement, a field of appearances freed from claim or task, where even the simplest objects begin to show themselves otherwise.

https://medium.com/the-poets-corner/the-gelassenheit-of-pastry-7a4915ca1e6a

#philosophy #poetry #freeverse #Heidegger #everydaylife

#completethehaiga 146 #prompt hurt living in fear, the world seems unbearable- embrace love to live #Haiku #Senryu #Haiga #Tanka #FreeVerse #Poetry #Micropoetry #poetrycommunity #poetryprompt #skypoets #blueskypoetry #poetrysky #PictureAndAPoem #WestCoastKin #ECK @[email protected]

"Go, Samurai.
Slash a throat,
And lick the blood from the crimson blade…"

• Samurái (Poem)

https://none-dc.neocities.org/Poems/Works/Samurai/

Food & Emotion

A bowl half-empty,
Still, we clink our spoons and laugh—
Enough is plenty.

#Haiku #Poetry #Poems #Food #Micropoetry #FreeVerse

The Glass Ceiling

You have to have the attitude of a brick
in order to bring down the glass ceiling above you.
The strength of a madman
and the willingness to fail.

How easy it is to point out the failures of yesterday,
and how difficult it is to admit our own failures upon inheriting our parent’s success.
There is no perfect flower in the rose garden
only the perfume of the bloom, and the smell of fertilizer.
Your tears shall not feed the roots of tomorrow
for that blessing comes from higher up.

Instead,
try nurturing a thistle of your own to perfection
sharpen the colors with love and dignity
Watch it grow in the worst of times.
For it’s core strength stems from appreciation  
and determination.

Those that forge their life from your work
hold you in honorarium!
When they dance, they dance for you
when they sing, they sing to you,
when kind words and actions flow from their souls
it’s an acknowledgement of your attentiveness.

What feeds the stem will feed the soul
and what feeds the soul, feeds your God.

Image: A Blue Thistle taken from Nature and Garden’s web-page.
used without permission.
https://www.nature-and-garden.com/gardening/thistle.html

#Senryu | #completethehaiga 142. Art by Josiah. sun warms the pier fish frolic under dappled light quiet contemplation #Haikufeels #Haiku #Haiga #FreeVerse #Poetry #Micropoetry #Writing #poetrysky #writesky #PoetryCommunity #skypoets #blueskypoetry @[email protected]

#Emoetry | #Empty Sometimes a poem writes itself after seeing an image or word like,"empty" as this did #FreeVerse #Poetry #poetryprompt #WritingPrompts #Writing #poetrysky #writesky #poetrycommunity #skypoets #blueskypoetry #ImageAndVerse #PictureAndAPoem #Photography #WestCoastKin #EastcoastKin

#HaikuFeels | #Crash crash the thunder roars splash goes the torrential downpour. . . tranquility returns #Haiku #Senryu #Haiga #FreeVerse #Poetry #Micropoetry #poetryprompt #WritingPrompts #Writing #poetrysky #writesky #skypoets #blueskypoetry #ImageAndVerse #PictureAndAPoem #Photography

#Senryu | #completethehaiga 139. Art by Josiah. the moods of the sea are as the seasonings on the food of my life #Haikufeels #Haiku #Haiga #FreeVerse #Poetry #Micropoetry #Homophones #WordPlay #Writing #poetrysky #writesky #PoetryCommunity #skypoets #blueskypoetry @[email protected]

✨️🪾❄️📄❄️🪾✨️ snowy field the vastness of a blank page #EastCoastKin #ImageAndVerse #Cassiopeian Vast #haiku #俳句 #Freeverse #Poetry #Micropoetry #Photography #Nature #Wolftwin #Landscape #ClassicMono