Duke LaRance ~ I was born a long time ago and raised on the High Plains of the Rocky Mountain Front in Northern Montana. I am a poet, photographer/artist, vocalist and a Gentleman. I flew under the radar and toiled in obscurity for many years. I’m now at www.allpoetry.com/Duke_LaRance and am very happy at my new home where I had six pieces added to the recommended list on the homepage in six months and earned awards in two contests.
About the time I joined AP I was invited to join, private FB poetry pages, Open Skies Poetry where I was Poet of the Week very early; Soul Poet Society, Poetry Kingdome and Poetry Universe. Published in three anthologies with a fourth forthcoming in two years.
I was recently invited to join “Dream of Equality – Nigeria” where I was named one of three Gold Medalists for a piece written in response to a photo prompt.
I will always be a lyricist at heart. I could spend the rest of my days writing lyrics, posting, interacting, taking early morning drives and singing for hours on end.
I am a member of the Little Shell Tribe of Chippewa Indians of Montana (Métis)
They was “just folks” Kind of folks you’d see In a cozy bar and grill Salt of the Earth types Just from the looks of ‘em Dad was not very tall Broad shouldered from work Face that spoke of the wind Had a small place up the road North a piece, most locals driving by Did not have a clue who they was But anyone enjoying life In the cozy bar and grill Could see something Glaringly obvious They was just folks Mom looked like many ranch wives Of her era, scarf on her head Cloth coat she and Dad Enjoyed the silence of each Other’s company, they both Looked around almost quizzically At the other diners, soaking things up They was just folks Dad sat wearing his beat up LBJ Stetson, a worn denim coat And a look spoke of wind gusts Laughter, joy and pain They looked about almost quizzically Enjoying the silence of each other’s company They was just folks
Monster That I Am
I hear the full-throated roar Of the pursuing mob Monster that I am, The bolts in my neck torqued beyond their limits I see the dancing flames Reflection off pitchforks From the blazing torches, I hear the frenzied Baying of the hounds, Somehow it seems like A nightmare déjà vu A distant memory From my alligator brain, A scene repeated again, Only the first time It happened before I died
A Moment to Remember
picked up a Japanese student at Shelby, he had flown into Calgary hitched his way south, safely making it across the border; flashed a big smile when I pulled over, jumped right in without hesitation; he was extremely well appointed he came here based only on Trust and Faith; why, he didn’t know more than ten words of the queen’s American, man; he mostly just sat there and grinned; he was so happy to have a ride a measly twenty-five miles, obviously it was one of those moments meant to be remembered; I would not have even known what I had missed; I don’t remember where he was headed south? when I dumped him off I pointed at the onramp; how can I ever forget that great big smile?