Biography of david lessard
I grew up in vermont. have also lived in new york state, virginia, nevada, new hampshire and currently live in central arizona.
I was a respiratory care practitioner most of my life. I am now retired.
I have an associate's degree in the health sciences.
Working on a life-journal that totals over a 1,000 pages. (A shorter version that is 250 pages) A 'novel' of 165 pages and about 400 poems, make up the balance of my writings.(poemhunter and poetfreak)
david lessard's Works:
No published books. Some articles published in respiratory care magazines. A few poems published in a jr. college volume of creative writing, called 'Voices.' (Subjects dealing with second hand smoke and held-in anger)
david lessard Poems
I'Ll Think Of You
As I go to sleep, I'll think of you - The things we've done, the things we'll do - And my dreams of you will last and love will stay- though the slumber hours, until the light of day.
A Time To Bury Sorrow
A time for you and a time for me, to be whatever, we choose to be; to set our sights, to reach the peak, to realize goals, we truly seek.
A Remembrance Of My Father
I saw you as you were, Not as the person I last viewed - You were handsome, strong and good, Movie star looks and a great smile.
Armchair Traveler (With Apoligies To Rob...
I've climbed the highest mountains, swam the deepest sea, Struck gold up in Alaska, felled the tallest tree, I've ridden wild broncos and slept on desert sands, and lifted massive weights, with these old, arthritic hands.
Ode To Coffee
Here's to coffee! 'Tis such a boon... It takes from a stumbling goon, awakens me from my cocoon, into a more affable baboon.
A Prayer For God's Love...
Shelter me, from life's dark sorrows, Take me 'neath your wings of love; Give me to me the secrets of the 'morrow, As I search the heavens up above.
A World Of Silence
I live in a world of silence, It has nothing to do with you, I live in world that has no sound, though it isn't all quite true.
Out of the great, green, grove of trees, In the darkness of the night; The snowy owl came sllenty by, A graceful poem in flight.
this March madness is already driving me up a wall, I watch my favorite teams compete and strive to win; today two of the favored ones have taken their fall, reduced to losers, cast aside in basketball's dustbin.
A Love Affair With Life-
I have a love affair with life- it's taught me secret things- it speaks of long ago- and what the future brings-
The salaries of pro football players are drifting out of sight, The rookies make more than veterans, now would you say that's right?
Who Speaks For The Indian?
Who speaks for the Indian? The Indian himself is not allowed to speak. The white man attempts to do that for him. How can one race speak for that of another?
In this land of little rain, Suddenly there comes a shower, a burst of rain so fast and hard, it makes timid ones to cower.
Here's To The Poets!
The poet is a writer, for want of better things to do- He/she composes rhymes and prose, and then sends them on to you.
The hand strikes out...
A scream is heard...
A taste of blood in the mouth...
A smell of fear emerges...
The hand seeks to comfort...
and a voice is heard...'I'm sorry.'
The jaws tighten...