1,475 comments, 1,923 on me, 1 contests, 3 columns, joined Aug 21, 2003
Visited on Apr 28 06:09 AM
Dennis, a Vietnam Vet and product of a turbulent past, has a passion for writing poetry as broad as life, love, fantasy, child abuse and the indifferences of man. The uniqueness of his work comes from his very visual story like style as he draws the reader into a reenactment of a specific event.
A victim of child abuse himself he writes heart breaking poems about his childhood, yet, intermingles them with the love and hope he has for his and all our children.
His greatest influence was his mother, who’s had her poetry in news paper articles across the country as far back as the Second World War. Often as a child he would sit at the kitchen table in their too small country cottage and write happy-go-lucky style poems with her.
Though he remains unpublished himself at this time, his hopes are that this will soon change as he continues to dedicate himself to perfecting this art and accumulating enough material to create his first book. Update: Three of my poems have recently been featured in the local newspaper as of 12/05.
Besides poetry, his first love, he likes experimenting with other forms of artistic expression.
The above is a pencil sketch he did of one of his daughters and her first born back in 1992. Besides artwork, poetry, gardening and sculpting, he likes to take his motorcycle through the winding country side roads enjoying the fresh country air. At other times, with his canoe, he'll explore quiet rivers that meander through the dark moist forests near his home in Norton Massachsettes.
*The Artist and the Poet* ~ by DennisP1 (2004)
Oh, the artist paints a picture
But the poet with his pen
Gives a true impression
Of the story there within.
As he delves beneath the surface
In search of tales yet untold
His words create the images
Of visions deep within his soul.
*ROMANCE* ~ by Edgar Allan Poe (1829)
Romance, who loves to nod and sing,
With drowsy head and folded wing,
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet
Hath been- a most familiar bird-
Taught me my alphabet to say-
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wild wood I did lie,
A child- with a most knowing eye.
Of late, eternal Condor years
So shake the very Heaven on high
With tumult as they thunder by,
I have no time for idle cares
Through gazing on the unquiet sky.
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings-
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away- forbidden things!
My heart would feel to be a crime
Unless it trembled with the strings.
-- THE END --
From my AP Wife
Janice M. Picket Oct 2007
You are the focus of my heart
although so far away
I bless the moment that we met
and I just have this to say
When a man like you comes into my life
although we cannot touch
I know the magic in your words
and I treasure you so much
You will be my AP husband
and to you I will be true
for not for many many years
have I met a man like you
