Richard Provencher


Richard Provencher Poems

41. A Spiritual Banquet 9/14/2014
42. Winterchill 9/14/2014
43. I Am Me 9/15/2014
44. For My Sister, Susan 9/15/2014
45. A Balance Of Opinion 9/16/2014
46. When I Was A Birch Tree 9/16/2014
47. Daylight & Evening Sense 9/17/2014
48. That Second Hand Music 9/17/2014
49. Agra, Northern India 9/17/2014
50. That Second Hand Music 9/17/2014
51. I Am A Feather 9/20/2014
52. Custodian Of Flavours 9/21/2014
53. Beauty In The Seeing 9/21/2014
54. Come Home 9/22/2014
55. At Dannemora Prison 9/23/2014
56. Life Is A Flavour 9/23/2014
57. Our Father Who Art... 9/23/2014
58. The Last Flight 9/4/2014
59. Dusk 9/4/2014
60. At St. John's, Newfoundland 9/5/2014
61. Cape Spear 9/5/2014
62. Journey Of The Return 9/6/2014
63. Day's End 9/6/2014
64. Cpr Freight To Rossport 9/6/2014
65. South Island, New Zealand 9/6/2014
66. Sacred Pylon 9/6/2014
67. When The Fishermen Are Gone 9/7/2014
68. Hidden From View 9/7/2014
69. Seascape 9/8/2014
70. Memories By The Moose 9/24/2014
71. Feeling 40 'n Foxy 7/6/2017
72. Westmorland, New Brunswick 9/8/2014
73. Bedouin 8/26/2014
74. Neon Sign 9/2/2014
75. Son - - If You Could See 8/25/2014
76. To Montreal 8/14/2014
77. A Safari Of Desire 8/26/2014
78. While Others Sleep 8/30/2014
79. Easter Island 9/7/2014
80. Among The Nations 9/23/2014

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Best Poem of Richard Provencher

Blueberry Picking

August is a blue haze of
ripened fields,
hurried over by swarming pickers
this year of plenty. The Rakers eye
profits with stiffened backs,
juice-stained hands their colour
of success, bodies browned by the sun.
They scoop in delight, white
and blue buckets filled
to overflowing-

In my return to this land I can
smell the burning fields and
see their scorched October attire.
Once a breezy sea of blue
fertilized by bumblebees, now
picked clean from summer marauders.

See the fire, the scent of
tortured fields. Renewal is a ...

Read the full of Blueberry Picking

Out Of Stars

The sky is almost out
of stars to wish upon as I climbed
through life then shuffled
into the twilight of my years.
Breath and length of days
began counting as numbered steps -

in the battleground of youth
I was a player

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