Let me capture for you the beauty
that unfolds before, me on my
The visual beauty of rolling hills
that leaves footprints from the past,
with streaming brooks and jumping
fish, wanting to feed.
Pastures, teaming with green grass,
Tumble-weed and clover blossoming
under the feet, of sleepy-eyed buffalo.
Shadows, moving about the swaying
boughs of tired trees, that rise up from
ancient pasts, when painted warriors
fell, protecting their rights for prairie
Sleep in peace and let lilies dress your
ancestry plains, that rise up now like
a dusty beam,cast by a waking golden
sun, as a chugging tractor unfolds the
soil before it, releasing the scented
sweet flutter of thrashed hay.
My heart is rooted to the land with the
lonely call of a coyote, as it crosses
before the great divide, dark clouds rise
overhead concealing the sun to the moons
hanging veil to sleep now, tomorrow is
not yet risen.
© Copyright by Vincent Moore. All rights reserved
He was born and raised in Montreal Canada among the Irish, Brits, Italians and French. Point St Charles (commonly called The Point) was the Hell’s kitchen of Montreal. He played, cried, laughed and fought on the street corners, survival was an instinct and watching each others back important. Vincent left home at 17 to find his way in the world, failure and success he had plenty of. He studied the Arts and loved to draw and paint. Took acting lessons and envied those on the stage under the bright lights and hoped to some day become an actor, writer, playwright or painter. Vincent welcomes you to his world of mystery, fantasy and solitude. You can find a few of his writings in one of 3 books he's published.In Absinthia- In Melancholia and In Passionata.