Wayne Hebb. A retired RCMP officer, he served more than 36 years policing communities across Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada. A lifelong interest in writing became a central focus after retirement, leading him to produce poetry, short stories, creative nonfiction, and an unpublished novel. During his posting on Bell Island, he created and published a monthly community newsletter in his off-duty hours, featuring policing updates, local news, events, and his own fiction. The publication gained a wide readership, circulating beyond the island to audiences across Canada and the United States. His poetry has appeared in Verse-Virtual, including the November 2025 issue, and in the fall issue of Horseshoe Literary Magazine.
A World Without You
A tear rolled down my cheek
Dropping on the pillow
As I slept fitfully
Dreaming I was alone,
Left to face living on
An earth without
Your fragrant smell
Your soft and warming smile
Your silky, smooth skin
Your calm and assuring voice,
And without your love
I turned over
Reaching toward you
Touching your hand
You slipped it into mine
Squeezing gently
Books
Some books are short
Their story doesn’t take
Long to tell
Some books are long
So long they get to see
The shorter ones end
One by one they go until
Only the longest ones
Are left wondering when
Their time will come as
They tire of carrying
The memories of those
Pages left behind
The Dead Don’t Hear
The dead don’t hear
They don’t feel
They are the husks
That carried the soul
That once lived
They are dead
They don’t need
To feel or hear
Your words
The living do
Being Loved
When I was born
The day was cold as
March mostly is and
I felt that cold even though
I did not know what it was
I did not know what
Being male or
Being a man was
The same as I did not
Know what sin or
What anything was, yet
When I felt love
Despite having no knowledge
About anything, I knew
What it was
Defiance
The leaf nestled into the grass,
Its yellow-orange color showed,
It was dying or maybe already dead,
Moistened by the morning dew,
It glistened in the rising sun as if in
Defiance of its end,
Displaying a beauty that
Would only be seen,
By discerning eyes
The Galway Review 
Nicely written. Loved reading all of them!
By the way, I write poems and scribble about life’s quiet truths. Do check out my blog and subscribe if you like it.
Keep writing!
Thank you for your genersous comments. I checked out your blog and read some of your work. I like your poetry. It is very natural, down to earth and true. I especially liked the phrase, Rusted silence… in An Elegy to Zubeen Garg.