Chris G. Vaillancourt : Writing

Not Only, But Also

Not Only, But Also

A Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt


In this being, which rumbles like abeating given with a belt.One layer thick and thenstarting to menstruate.Wonderful movement are thethe bodie..
Mommy And Daddy's Garden

Mommy And Daddy's Garden

A Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt


The flowers were planted by his wife and himself,So many years ago when the children were infants.They took such care to prune and to weed;Quite often..
Men. Yes, We Became Men

Men. Yes, We Became Men

A Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt


What have we become? We who used to sit in my bedroom listening to Beatles records on headphones.We spoke of the future. We planned our advan..
Sighing, I Watch The Grass Grow

Sighing, I Watch The Grass Grow

A Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt


You abandoned peace and chose furyinstead. Anger is the horseyou ride on nowpast field, field, field. Stop. Stop the wars of revenge, of anger, of ..
When I Was A Boy

When I Was A Boy

A Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt


I used to think everything would be easy,when I was a boy. I'd play with my thoughtsand write my journals, picturing the greatpoet I'd be, I'd be. I'd..
Amongst the Sludge

Amongst the Sludge

A Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt


under questionan open heartprogressesfrom forgiving to forgiven.you and Isanctifying ourselvesin illuminatedceremony.whims and transgressionswhich ind..
Hissing Water

Hissing Water

A Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt


Don't leave me.Restless lightstremble on and off.Sanity bent and brown,submissive living.Drying clothestumbling aroundand aroundand around.You are lik..
Strangers

Strangers

A Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt


In Summertime I met you.I met you in Summertime.Days long, sun present and accounted for.Weren't the giraffes rather splendid that year?And as it woul..
In The Eclectic Morning, Always Walking

In The Eclectic Morning, Always Walking

A Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt


And so we walked, you and I. Travelled like robots across the dim under warranty acunity.We mentioned nothing of substanc..
The Train

The Train

A Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt


Every day the train arrives,here and back again. A face,yours, looks forme.I smile. You shine. Fingers touch. A shock. We retreat to recover and ..