Frank Heck
Laramie, Wyoming, USA
Frank HeckLaramie, Wyoming, USA |
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He was born in Morristown, New Jersey and was brought up in the South Bronx. During World War II he served in Europe with the Ninth Air Force. He holds degrees from Manhattan College and New York University. In his carreer as a French professor, he taught at Manhattan College, the University of Scranton and the University of Wyoming (19966-91). He has published work on French poets such as Baudelaire and Rimbaud. Frank maintains that if ''that hills are alive that with the sound of music,'' then undeniable the mountains of Wyoming are resplendent with poetry. |
A Child's CovenantLearning ABC's and 123'sPraying to God on bended knees, Trying to discern wrong from right, Reining errant conscience's flight, At the instant of telling a lie, At once perceiving an angel's sigh, Obeying love's dictate so sublime By doing daily tasks ev'ry time, (Drugs, hate) and all vices abhor, (Hope, trust) and all values restore, To rear, dear reader, children such as we, O goodness me! It takes a family | Winds of WyomingWinds blow cold, unlike a gentle breeze,Blow, wild winds, and whistle through the trees. Winds blow long, unlike a sudden squall, Blow then, winds of winter, winds of fall. Song of homeland, angels of my flight! Windswept sage, in winter's ruthless surge, Lowing cattle, chanting low their dirge. Windswept sage, along the dusty trail, Wand'ring tumbleweeds, gaunt hulls that sail. Song of homeland, angels of my flight! Winds blow cold, 'til sunshine tenders heat, Bounding antelope and fields of wheat Fill the plains below the mountain crests, Winds blow cold, but nature's bounty rests. Song of homeland, angels of my flight! Far from home and symphony austere, Far away from climes beyond compare, Caged in dens, so dense with air impure, Dreaming e'er of arid land's allure. Song of homeland, angels of my flight! | Old Glory RevisitedOur flag, the sign of glory from of old,As dauntless men, their selfless deeds unfold From Valley Forge down to the present time, Have paid that awesome price, in death sublime, To serve that banner blest by heaven's grace, A beacon lit for all the human race. But hold! Don't we behold, in guise of art, Debased displays of flags that smite the heart, Inspire a nation's ire, and rouse disgust In sentinels alert to Glory's trust? Our emblem burned in tumults out-of-hand, Reflecting lack of faith throughout our land? Unfurl our flag, her name remain unscathed, And not besmirched by darkest deeds depraved! Dishonor not, enhance Old Glory's fame, Our deed keep fanning freedom's flick'ring flame! |