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.
...

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

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

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.
...

I have an aunt out in Cali,
we used to visit every year,
she had a yoga studio,
and my grandmother used to cheer
...

They say they're anti-fascists,
ANTIFA is their chosen name,
that they have to go fight Nazis,
on whom every bad thing they blame.
...

My quest to walk across the nation,
like vaunted pioneers of old,
started in Maine six months ago,
post vlogs of my progress for folks.
...

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

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

The cowboy poet went out
for a breath of fresh air.
Then a shot rang out,
coming out of nowhere.
...