Duke LaRance

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)

Just Folks

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?

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