: About Me

Patrick Marchildon was born on April 28, 1985. He grew up in the suburbs of the town of Aurora, which lies in the northern part of the GTA. Although he attended one of few strictly French schools in the area, his passion lies in the English language. Poetry became an outlet of expression at a young age. At thirteen years of age, he lost his mother to cancer, which prompted certain questions to come forth fueling his pen for the first time. He currently resides in Toronto where he has made this lovely city his home for the past three years. he recently began writing a blog at http://poeticpat.blogspot.com. In December 2007, Patrick released his first book of poetry "Poetic Pat". In March 2008, he released his second book "Healing Tears That Blood Sheds" which can both be found at www.lulu.com/pat_marchildon1

For more information, visit www.patrickmarchildon.com

My passion is ...

Poetry

Why I write ...

When my mom died, I was 13 years old. I didn't know anything about poetry and yet I sat at my desk writing. One day someone told me nice poetry and I realized that was what I was writing. I've been writing ever since.

My first job ...

Bus Boy

My best moment ...

is yet to come :)

My inspiration ...

My grampa is my inspiration. He was a modest man who spoke to me as an adult but still took into consideration I was a child. He was a navigator on a bomber plane in World War II. I always enjoyed listening to his stories as he could tell them like no other.

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Vulnerable

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Just a Dog Without Rabies We sit down because we are pets to an owner. Although we would rather bite the hand that feeds We decide to play dead or else they will put us away Without pay in a penitentiary instead of the asylum. Left alone in a collective soulless group of exiles Where soap becomes stained with scummy residue Of human beings that once walked this fragile Earth. Prostitutes to corporations prior to being slaves. And so I proceed within the cash cow's womb Until I am born into another opportunity outside. Always just moments away from the present And inches away from survival ...

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