Louis Larsen worked as an English instructor for the majority of his adult life. In that time, he produced many works in both novels and poetry. Louis also worked as a ghost writer for many others, as well as newspapers throughout Utah. The works here represent those left to the family, both published and unpublished. Much of his work reflects a haunting feeling of loss, pain and betrayal. This comes from the loss of his son, Thomas Larsen, in World War II. Tom served with the 85th Mountain Infantry of the 10th Mountain Division, where he served with distinguished honor, and paid the ultimate price for his commitment. Tom lost his life on Riva Ridge, Mount Belvedere in February, 1945. This loss haunted Louis for the remainder of his life. Many of his poems reflect this pain and leave a legacy of the emotional priced paid in the wake of war.

Sunday, November 9, 2014

Fiscal Note

Cry it out from the
Clock's high steeple:
Time is a hoard
Of foolish people.

Fly with the prodigal;
Hark the sound
Where they toss the
Tick-tock coin around!

Just so much time
Is a miser's plot;
What you buy with time
Is all you've got.

(First published in Along the Lane: Dedicated to the memory of Thomas William Larsen, who lost his life in World War II) 
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