“Heroic” published at Chewers & Masticadores

On By Mike U.In Poetry

I’m pleased to announce my poem “Heroic” has been published at Chewers & Masticadores. Many thanks to Juan Re Crivello and his team for sharing this poem with their readers. It’s always an honor to have my poetry published Chewers & Masticadores and I’m deeply grateful for this opportunity. Thank you, Juan!

“Heroic”
© 2013 by Michael L. Utley

“The kid was too young
This distant uncanny boy
Face absconded
Into the murky depths of his
Drenched and threadbare
Crimson hoodie
Eyes mere pinpricks
Of sentience in the shadows
Where his face should be
On this pouring midnight
Sidewalk where even the rain seemed
Exhausted in the scornful cones
Of streetlamp illumination
And unseen clouds sighed above
Too tired for the bluster and pretense
Of thunder…”

I’d be delighted if you’d read the rest of my poem by clicking this link. Also, be sure to follow and subscribe to Chewers & Masticadores. It’s a wonderful place for those who love writing.

39 thoughts on ““Heroic” published at Chewers & Masticadores”

    1. Thanks, Nigel. The initial image I had for this one was so stark, so powerful and compelling. I didn’t really know where it was going, but I sure wanted to follow it to find out. Most of my poetry is very melancholy and deals with pain and loss, but now and then I’m able to write something with a bit of hope, like this one. Thanks for the kind words, my friend. 🙂

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    1. Hey, Grace! Thanks a bunch for the nice comment. I appreciate you, my friend. Hope things are going well in your neck o’ the woods, and that you’re keeping warm. It’s -5 F here right now. Time to make some hot cocoa! 🙂

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    1. Many thanks, Diana. As cynical as I’ve become over the years, there’s still a part of me that believes that we humans are still capable of kindness. We’re bombarded with atrocities by the media and it’s easy to succumb to the feeling of utter despair with regards to the state of humanity. I like to think compassion is still possible, even if it’s only via random acts of kindness. The kid in this poem is an absolute hero in my opinion, and his compassion for a passing stranger changed the narrator’s life. Would that we all could do the same. 🙂

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  10. Beautifully crafted! I am so impressed with your writing. Every word contributes to the mood, the imagery, and the feelings. I am transported to that rainy night, trying to anticipate the outcome. And then the heroism is the compassion for another! Truly beautiful!

    And Congrats, of course!

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    1. Kindest thanks, Peggy. I like the way this poem sort of switches gears midway through. This poor kid sitting on a bench during a midnight downpour, all alone and seemingly hopeless, yet his selfless act changes the life of someone else. I didn’t have a title for this until I finished writing it, and the word “heroic” was the first thing that came to mind and it was so appropriate. I love little glimpses into ordinary life that becomes extraordinary, and this one is special to me. This kid is a hero, and I hope we all can become more like him. 🙂

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  11. Dearest Mike, I think I left my comment twice on Chewers. I thought I was writing a comment here. Your work always touches me to my core, but this was like you were talking about me. I read your words aloud to myself and felt the tears fall. I could feel the cold rain and the wet clothes. I felt the need to cry and remember how I wondered if anyone cared. I did things by myself a lot in my teens and even in college. I would sit by streams and pick ferns. I was so touched by the compassion of the younger person that I saw that person as you. If your younger person had passed this man, you would have given him every stitch of clothing or anything else that showed compassion and concern for his well-being. Thank you so much for being real when you write, I felt every word. Just such a raw and heartfelt piece. Love, Joni

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    1. Kindest thanks, Joni. This is a special one for me. The initial imagery was so powerful, just the kid sitting alone in the midnight rain, no one else in sight, wondering what was going through his mind, why he was there, if he had anywhere to go… Much of the time when I write, I don’t see parallels to my own life until after I’ve finished the poem and I’m reading over it. It’s a strange sensation to discover I was subconsciously writing about myself much of the time. In this poem, I really didn’t know where it would end up. I just followed the images and the words. It changes directions midway through, and that caught me off-guard, to be honest. It was an unexpected twist. And the ending…I get sort of choked up when I read the part about the kid’s bare footprints being washed away by the rain. I’m not sure why, but that really speaks to me on a deep level.

      I, too, was always alone growing up. I was stuck on a farm, so I had places I could go by myself. I used to hang out by some of the ponds, or climb up in an elm or pine and sit there and just think about things. I was stuck between two sisters so I was always by myself. Often times I’d go searching for arrowheads on the farm (it’s private property so it’s okay) and the dogs would accompany me. I’d stop and eat pine nuts if they were in season, and sit on expanses of terraced white sandstone covered in moss and lichen and just think my lonely thoughts. I don’t think it’s a surprise that I’m a recluse now. I had years of apprenticeship training learning how to be a shut-in.

      Thanks as always for your thoughtful comments, Joni. You’ve got a golden heart, my friend, and I appreciate your kindness. It’s good to know someone else understands. 🙂

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  12. Tranature - quiet moments in nature's avatar Tranature - quiet moments in nature

    This is such a beautiful poem Mike and I love how it begins with an observation, then a connection and reflection before it dives into the subconscious. It’s wonderfully done and I love how you let go and trusted the poem to take you on this journey 💜✍

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    1. Thanks so much, Xenia. I think this is why writing poetry is such an adventure sometimes. A tiny kernel of an idea germinates and grows into something completely unexpected and can surprise even the author. Like you mentioned, sometimes you’ve just got to trust the poem to lead the way. I liked the atmosphere here, too. I lived in Oregon during the fall and early winter of 1995-96 and there was constant rain. It plays such a huge part in setting the scene in this poem, just as it did when I experienced it in Oregon. It can be oppressive, but it can be cleansing as well, washing away pain, fear and doubt.

      As always, I appreciate you so much and value your thoughts and insights. Thanks a bunch for your kindness, my friend. 🙂

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