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Week 4 Releases, Larry Bourland Poetry, Durango Colorado

Week 4 and we are SMOKIN, (!

     The stats are proof that every one of you are supporting the website and that is exactly the formula we need to keep spreading the collective creativity around the world. We are INTERNATIONAL, because of you. Thank you!!!


     This week I’m introducing on the blog a poem inspired by Bobby LeFebre, Colorado Poet Laureate Emeritus. Being in audience with him last July he discussed including magic into what you write and I took it to heart. I was watching the Animas River flowing by and his words resounded deeply in me; I was watching poetry and magic unfold before my eyes. It’s that poem I’m sharing in the blog this week followed next week with a reading of it on the website. I texted Bobby letting him know he was the inspiration for “El Río de la Prosa Perdida.” I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for the magic, Bobby!


For art connoisseurs, I’ve reached out to world renowned artist Carrie Ann Baade who has graciously given me permission to share with you her work. I’ve followed her work for years and her strong sense of feminism has been a driving force of art around the globe. Carrie Ann’s work has been described as surrealism and historical masterpieces reinterpreted using her strong feminist and autobiographical approach to art and social issues. Please seek out her work live at exhibits, online or in her published books. She is beyond incredible! Watch for her work here in the very near future.

     I’ve asked Web Designer Extraordinaire, Anthony,  to develop a new forum on the site for “Featured Poets” A 2-week premier of my favorite local poets destined for poetry success. Watch for the premiere in Week 6 +/-

     Please continue to spread the word of our website, help us grow and reach out. This is an incredible trip and we are all enjoying the journey together!!!

     Please take advantage of posting your own original poetry or short stories on our website. You’re making this happen!

Listen to the poet - Be the poet



          (The River of Lost Prose)


Sitting at the river’s edge

watching as the poetry flows by

listening as each stanza

wakes around every perfectly

placed boulder

where beneath

poets reside waiting

to ambush their next meal.


A poet on the shore

casts his imagination into the deepest pool

hoping to snag his best inspiration

to be shared later

at supper with other poets who’ve

gathered ‘round a crackling campfire

where tall tales of their own

poetic adventures of the day on the river

will be shared.


That evening

stillness falls over those gathered

as he recites his poetic tale:

“The pool was deep,


filled with mystery and inspiration.


The contest began SUDDENLY, unexpectedly,


I could feel immense inspiration

fighting on the end of the line

as the biggest poem

taunted me!

Teased me!!

Played me!!!

Writing its own sonnet.


Alas, the Rainbow Poet slipped my line,

swimming to more creative depths to be

written about another time.


It was the biggest!

The best!

The hardest poem I’ve ever hooked…”


The gathered poets sat stoic.


Reflective in their own poetic imagination.


The silence was broken with a collective sigh…


Eventually, the most reverent poetic fishing guide

softly uttered;

“That’s the biggest fish tale piece of

poetic bullshit I’ve ever heard.”


Bon Voyage


While walking my dog today

I glanced skyward

spotting the reflective fuselage

of a passenger jet, I guessed

35,000 feet overhead.


I could have easily missed it;

no contrail,

no noise,

no little hands waving

from little windows.


I watched it for about 15 seconds

then it just stopped,

stopped in flight,

hanging there. 

That can’t be normal.


10 seconds! 

10 seconds it hung in the ether!

I thought that must be

an eternity for a passenger jet

to idle at 35,000 feet.


10 seconds later

it disappeared from the sky.

I wished them “Bon Voyage”.

Lola barked.

We walked on.



On a whim

I applied for an executive position

at a Fortune 500 Company 

specializing in addressing in-house and inter-agency

communication skills with which to better

facilitate their product on the global market.


I had the necessary skills,

albeit self-taught, necessary education, 

albeit life experience from living on the street,

and the necessary set of bullshit abilities,

albeit the necessary set of bullshit abilities.


My only unexpected and unplanned obstacle was 


the Majordomo

and dominatrix

guarding the reception office

of the 118-floor executive tower.


Phyllis was never wrong,

she knew everything about everything.

If you belonged in her building, she was your guardian angel

otherwise, you were the enemy.

I fit one of those two categories

and was about to find out which.


My reasoning skills were a bit dull,

albeit to no less than excessive THC blood levels.

The match, one sided as it was, was about to begin:

Me: “Good Morning, my name is Evans, Bob Evans and…”

Phyllis: “You don’t belong here. Leave. Now!”

I left.


Well, Fuck that. Fuck them 

and their self-righteous communications thingy business stuff, 

I’m a poet. 

I never looked back.



I know how

and why

I chose you

but for the life of me

I cannot find a reason

you allowed yourself

to fall in love with me.


So, why did you agree

to go out with me?

There was no trust fund,

nor fancy car,

no cleft chin good looks.

I barely catch my own reflection

in department store windows.


You held my heart

in your hands,

gentle at first

then over time

your grip would ease,

sometimes letting go.


I remember

you running back

into my arms,

into my life,

into my heart

time after time.

Were you unsure of me

or yourself?


I was always surprised

when you returned

and never really surprised

when you left.

Never expecting you to stay

or return.


Thinking our time was over

gave me time to heal

and be thankful

for what we did share.


with your usual flair

and the jiggling of the

front door handle,

you made your entrance again

as if you had just returned

from the store.

I was always pleased

and puzzled.


And so,

taking advantage of each other

continued despite

my insecurities advising me that

we were loving

on borrowed time., residential real estate Durango Colorado
Exit Realty Home & Ranch

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Good Lord! Larry of Durango, you make my heart bleed.

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