Duane Herrmann


Duane Herrmann



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Duane Herrmann's poetry has been described as giving, "an inside view of one who has overcome serious obstacles that have defeated many others.  These include the social isolation of a rural farm, the challenges of dyslexia and ADD, and a traumatic childhood....He interweaves the natural world with profound mystical visions."

Herrmann has several collections of poetry published, chapters in several books as well as numerous stories (for adults and children), memoirs, articles and poems in various publications in a dozen countries and four languages. His book on fasting was recently expanded and reissued.

He was the 1989 recipient of the Robert Hayden Poetry Fellowship and Poet-in-Residence at Louhelen School in Michigan.  He has edited several poetry anthologies and other publications.

Herrmann lives in Topeka, Kansas, holds degrees in Education and History from Fort Hays Kansas State University and has been a member of the adjunct faculty of Allen County Community College.  A one-time librarian, and farmer before that, he has also been a full-time father of four and built the house the family lived in.  He now works for the state of Kansas and has three grandchildren.

More samples of his poetry can be found at: www.geocities.com/dlherrmann




I plow the paper with a pen

engaged as the family has been

in cultivation: sowing and reaping.


I plow the paper with a pen,

in a solitary field –

it always has been.


My father was a farmer,

his father, and his before him;

we are plowmen in our rows.


I plow the paper with a pen –

rows of words across the space

in neat and even lines.


Though plowing is the family business,

my “machineries” now differ

for a different kind of crop.


But the plowing is the same:

long straight lines

across unmarked fields.


Originally Published in Potpourri Dec. 1991




The abandon building


weathered wood and warped


erect, upright and proud


on the side of the ridge,


prairie all around – lonely


the seat of culture-leering


to become “Americans”


was their school and center


they knew who they were





Over the fields and prairie,

   creeks and tree lines –

endless miles

   of countryside,

I survey my domain,

   All MINE!  All MINE!

the wind past my eyes

   lifts me up or down.

A sound carries

   on the wind

and I know

   food is near.

I see motion

   and swoop down,

the meal...

   will be mine.



   Life is good!






To be respectful of The Mother

   we must step lightly

      when walking on her.


Our treading must not be

   a cause of sorrow or disruption;

      for others must pass too.


Behind us we must leave

   a trail of Beauty –

      in faces, places and planets;


A Trail of Beauty to resound

   in Glory dancing on the waves

      of human tracing.
















All poetry on this page
© by Duane Herrmann
, 2006 


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