david lessard Poems

What happens to the good poems?
Where do they go to die?
Do they fade away to nothing?
Our do they in some hearts lie?
...

One day, I'll write my book -
The words will pour right out -
You'll shake when you do look -
When first, I begin to shout.
...

Caught between barbeque and maple syrup,
I can't tell a branding iron from a stirrup -
Horses are foreign to me, as is a steer,
and from rodeos and cowgirls, I stay clear.
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I cannot and I will not, say that you are dead -
because you live and breathe inside my head,
because you were my love and always will be,
because you were a part of me.
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In the haunted castles of my mind,
Gruesome pictures of a past I find;
It wasn't very long ago, we wed,
Yesterday I woke, and found you dead.
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That's me, when I was twenty,
Good-looking and I knew it;
Times were ripe and plenty,
I was strong and I was fit.
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You cannot be here without your papers,
You are brown and you must have I.D.;
You cannot speak with an accent,
Then they'd know you were illegal, don't you see?
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We'd like to drill offshore,
It's black gold that we seek;
We want to make some money,
And we want to start last week!
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Half the people in this country agree,
We should be tougher on immigration;
Half the people cannot see,
Where we are going as a nation.
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When I was ill,
You made me whole,
When I swallowed
Life's bitter pill,
...