Raymond Farrell Poems

Cowering down upon the floor
Poor wee mite would lie
Faint its brain would tell
Now's the time to die.
...

The snow lay blanket-like upon the ground
The stalks of plants, all shrunk and dead
A sad reminder where a garden once was found
Were poking through without a head.
...

Out of an outhouse
Into a shed
Out of a book
Into my head.
...

What must be done
about leaders
who are not leaders
about people
...

I know a youth lank and lean
Who could run and never tire
And I saw plainly what he saw
And burned deeply with his desire
...

If the Beothuk people could speak
They would tell us all
In simple yet profound terms
What British justice was all about
...

Gathered close
To the fading glow
Of the fire
That drew me in from snow
...

nectarines fresh
from the crisper
cold and juicy
having tasted one
...

From out of the kitchen window
I saw the fresh fallen snow
Down soft and feathery light
In the morning sun's bright glow
...