David Welch Poems

Sabati was eight years old on the day
that his grandfather told him to sit down,
there was a story that he had to share,
that he was finally old enough now.
...

My head lolled as I rode through sun-baked land,
too parched to notice the vistas grand,
Southern Nevada had cursed me with thirst,
a kind that most people will never know.
...

You say we're all one thought away
from seeing a woman and having a rape,
then proclaim we're patriarchal monsters
if we act like gentlemen on a date.
...

In a hallowed grandstand,
I do quietly sit,
high above the noise
and ruckus of the pit.
...

A carpet of orange dresses the ground,
trees growing bare as leaves flitter down,
nip in the air tells of stark days to come,
but not now at least, the Fall isn't done.
...

A quiet call born of wind,
the rustling needles sound,
a hard chair of stony set,
cooler than dirty ground.
...

Oh the woman I loved was unfaithful
I found out that hard truth today,
now when I look at her I feel hateful
since she found another for her play.
...

It seems a day cannot go by
without some fit of pique
over a person who spoke out,
who used his right to speak
...

I barely feel the autumn chill,
as all around me sawdust spills,
my tiny daughter up the hill
waves down, as little children will.
...

She was born as Holly Clarkson
in the year 1993,
and for most of her early days
she lived life uneventfully.
...