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Week 8, Poetry From Durango Colorado, Larry Bourland Poet Durango Colorado.

Larry Bourland's poetry promises to continue with another outstanding week of innovative poetry and artistry.

This is the second week showcasing artist Carrie Anne Baade’s incredible work. I’ll be contacting her this week for her permission to present more of her work in the future.

This is also the second week showcasing our Featured Poet, L.K., who recently crushed her spoken word poetry at a standing-room-only public event before an enthusiastic crowd that fell in love with their deep, inspiring, thoughtful, and mind-expanding poetry. This poet is a true rising star ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.

On Monday, February 26th, from 6 pm to 7 pm, Poet Laureate Esther Belin & Rising Poet Laureate Zoe Golden will be presenting their work at Durango Public Library.

On Friday, March 1st, from 6 pm to 8 pm, local author and renowned poet Lisa C. Taylor will be reading at the Transcendent Immersion, featuring musician Brian Wagner, presented by Bomdiggity at Gifts for the Soul, 106 Grand Ave., Mancos, Colorado!

Lisa C. Taylor, award winning poet and fiction writer.

The Annual Poetry Open Mic Night at Durango Public Library is scheduled for March 20th. Always well attended by poets and the community. Come support the Library, Word Honey, Poetry, and the Arts Community of your hometown! It is an evening not to be missed!!!

Listen to the poet - Be the poet!

April is Poetry Month. Check with your local libraries for open mic poetry readings in your community and be a part of the art of poetry!

Try it once; you’ll get addicted!

For our website this week, we are transferring last week's blog previews to the site with voiceovers and presenting four new pieces. Hope you enjoy them, the voiceovers by the author, and the original artwork provided by Anthony Beadle.

Have a great week, write, create, read, love one another, dammit!

Listen to the poet - Be the poet.

Larry from Durango


Week 8


Larry Bourland Poet Durango Colorado
A Life Well Lived

When I was a little boy

me and my grandfather would

often just hangout,

watch movies,

go fishing,

play chess,


go to lunch

just guy stuff.


He regaled me with stories

and what to expect in life;

how to treat people,

how important family is,

how important God and country are,

made sure I brushed my teeth and

to never be embarrassed or ashamed

to hug or show affection

toward the family – lessons of life.


Lessons of life I’ve carried with me

that have sculpted into the man

I have become and who I want my kids

to know and emulate.


But the stories, good God,

the stories Pop would tell me

were tales of adventure and

excitement beyond belief.


As I grew older, I grew more

skeptical and began to silently

question the veracity of his sagas.


After Pops passed and my father

was in his golden years

dad agreed that Pops truly was

long winded and imaginative

but dad confirmed to me that

everything Pops had told me was

absolutely fucking true.


Pops, I should never have doubted

a single word.

A life well lived…



Larry Bourland Poet Durango Colorado
Sweet Girl

Her voice was as thin as a razor,

giving out paper cuts

with her tongue lashings.

Not unlike the strip club barker.

Remnants of relationships

sadly broken at her feet.

Nary a moment’s thought

to repair the damage inflicted

whole or incomplete

she couldn’t save a relationship

if she wanted to.

Destined to swill

acidic commentary

made her a personality that

left scars upon the unsuspecting

that would never fade.

The beautiful people hovered

on the vitriol that poured forth

when she decided to opine

on the shortcomings of

less fortunate souls

who couldn’t keep up.

She died alone in a bed with

notched headboard and vomit.

Grace was wasted on her,

she needed to die sooner.




Larry Bourland Poet Durango Colorado
Song Of The Cicadas

If I only had voices in my head

at least I would have someone to talk to.


I have no silence

in my life

for the creatures

ringing in my head

wail the Cicadas seven-year itch,

every day,

every minute,

every excruciating second

of my life.


Calling out to one another

from different branches

from trees

far and wide

within my skull.

an unjoyful symphony

bellowing like the slow

death of a dying rabbit.

There is no reprieve.


No one else

can hear the battle

inside my head,

it could only be worse

if I were deaf,

for the songs

of the Cicada are

a never-ending scream fest.


Others suffer this malady

and I finally understand

how suicide is a viable option…




Poet Larry Bourland Durango Colorado
In Celebration of Life

I lost a friend today.

One of the good ones.

One who didn’t seek change in the world,

except for the better.

My friend loved and lived within

the arms of Mother Earth.

A Flower Child defined.


My friend, since childhood

grew up to circle the globe,

taking in everything

from the peaks of the Andes to

gaze upon a comets starlit path,

from atop the globe to the bottom,

reaching toward heaven just to see

how close she could get.

All the world between held beauty I

would see only through her eyes.


I lost a friend today,

one of the few I have had.

You that I do call friend know that

you each are special, you are the

rhythm of my heart.


I lost a friend today.

One who now brightly shines in

heaven lighting the path ahead. I accept

your fate as my own and pray

we meet again.

Yet time has no meaning

when you only by chance are

given the gift of someone like this.

You defined kindness, moving

hearts and souls.

Now you embrace the universe

before you.


I lost a friend today.

Sweet, sweet Judy

you were not supposed to leave

before me.


I lost a friend today.


Brain Fog:

By A. Beadle

Anthony Beadle Poet Durango Colorado
Brain Fog

Void of sustenance sanity teeters on a tightrope

Each moment a precarious dance with the unseen scope

As the mind starved of its vital essence falters

Cognitive threads unravel reality a distant dream of waters

Time once a steady stream now a fragmented mosaic

Moments blur into eternity seconds stretch into infinity and you will forget it

Caught in a surreal limbo a mere observer

Drifting through the haze of a world slipping away ever further

Advocacy futile cognition lost in distorted perception

Each injustice a dagger to the fragile psyche's interpretation

Triggering reflexes instead of reasoned thought fragmenting its settings sought

In hibernation minds narrative arise suggestibility intertwines

Leaving the soul vulnerable to puppetry

Paranoia grips like icy tendrils coiling ever tighter physically

Walls silent sentinels of fractured reality mess

Bear witness to descent into madness

Past wars replay in fevered delirium

Illusions dance with shadows cast on walls of the mind interim

Silence becomes a cloak shielding secrets one must hold

Every word potential landmine secrets explode

Have to find the world where truth and deception blur

In flicker of screens false realities occur

Come be in my reality

That would be the dream...


Soldiers Road:

By A. Beadle

Poet Cortez Colorado, Anthony Beadle
Soldier's Road

A soldier stands in the middle of main street

His intent clear his feet concrete

Emotionless Expression

This soldier stands alone

Ronin he answers to no one

Fear expounds this soldiers demeanor as people looked on

Why is this soldier standing in the street

His feet concrete

Rage fuels his desires abound

This soldier was known all around town

The community regarded him a clown

Ten years passed his voice echoed in the halls of heroes

A fall caused it all…

Soldiers soldier left foot right

It was time he showed them all his might

This soldier taught to fight

Opened his mouth caused a fright

the world heard

Subject words

Mind in tact

He unleashed the attack

Day Turned Black


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