Virgil Chabre

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Welcome to the Web site of poet Virgil Chabre.  Author of four books of poetry:  Silhouettes, Images,and Faded Memories; The Night She Left and Other Poems; Column One (Poems 1982-1992); and Washington D. C. (2010)

Virgil Chabre has been influenced by Gary Snyder, Richard Brautigan, Lyn Lifshin, Javan, Lou Reed and Bob Dylan.

 

Contact
Send me a message
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 virgilpc@cox.net 

Stranger

 

She was a stranger I saw
Out of the corner of my eye
She did not look like Lady Gaga
Or Marilyn Monroe
She was younger
With dark hair
And glasses
A photograph I could file away
In my mind

 

I did not realize
I must have been staring at her
As I tried to focus my eyes
On the curve of her lips
As she sat silently
Sipping upon a cola

 

But when I got up and left
And looked back
She blew me a kiss
A stranger I will never forget
Filed away forever
In my mind under
A kiss that slipped away from me

She Is Not

She is not a river
She is a person
Yet she has the qualities
Of a river
Running downstream
Clear and cool
Moving with the shadows
That shares her existence

She is not a sunset
Yet she flows
Like the magic
Of a sunset
Colors flashing as she
Lets the sun caress her skin
Clears her mind
Solemn as the sun going down

She is not a rainbow
But she is the smell
After the rain
Which you cannot forget
And every time it rains
She enters your mind
As the fresh scent
Touches you
Unforgettable


Virgil Chabre's poems are about realistic events that happen to someone every day,  He puts words around everyday life.

He writes about Native American life and the history of challenges that they faced and continue to face today.  He brings images of Native Americans to life with his poetry.

His poems are about war and the impact of war on people and places.

He writes about birth and death and the process and struggle in between.

 

War

She said she was defeated
I said that it was only one battle
She said but the war goes on
All around me
I can’t stop it anymore
I have become part of the
Endlessness
It brings into my life
I said keep focused
And dream
She said there is no time for dreams
Dreams come from sleep
And I cannot close my eyes
Anymore
The war goes on
I heard the sound of war
When I held her close
Her heartbeat
Was fast and out of control
The smell of sulfur in the air
I could taste the war
As we made our way
Through the darkness
And found a place to surrender

Lost Summer Days

Life in Wyoming
Was not always
What it appeared to be
It was growing up
Under conditions that
created hard core souls
From a state
with a sparse population
More antelope than people

It was a world of confrontation
The battle between
The cattlemen and the sheep men
It was a Range War
There was no clear winner
Just hard feelings
That would drag on
As time went by

I remember Ridge Avenue
A place on a hill
Our backyard was an old cemetery
Leaving many ghosts behind
Always interrupting our life

A vacant lot next door
Told many stories
Of hidden treasures
Never found
Sandlot baseball
Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays
And many lost
Summer days


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