“On Kestrel’s Wings” published at Gobblers & Masticadores

On By Mike U.In Poetry

Hi, folks. I’d like to let you know my poem “On Kestrel’s Wings” has gone live at Gobblers & Masticadores. Sincere thanks to Juan Re Crivello and Manuela Timofte and their staff for this opportunity to share my poetry with their loyal readers. It’s an honor to have my work published at Gobblers & Masticadores alongside that of some top-knotch writers. Thanks so much, Juan and Manuela!

“On Kestrel’s Wings”
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

“Must everything have
Pedantic meaning
Must I be ground-bound
By the numbing gravity
Of grim solemnity
Must unrelenting
Earnestness be
The boot heel
Upon my neck
Must I suffocate
On the cloying
Atmosphere
Of grave sobriety…”

You can read the rest of my poem by clicking this link. Also, don’t forget to follow and subscribe to Gobblers & Masticadores, where you’ll find some wonderful writing and plenty of food for thought.

40 thoughts on ““On Kestrel’s Wings” published at Gobblers & Masticadores”

    1. Your wonderful comment deserves a thanks-and-a-half! 😉 Seriously, thank you so much. You always brighten my day (or in this case, my night–I’m a night owl 🦉) and I appreciate you, my friend. Glad you found this one to your liking. 😊

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    1. Thanks so much, Filipa. Your kind support is more precious to me than chocolate (and that’s saying a LOT since I love chocolate)! 😋 I appreciate your taking time to read and comment, my friend. 😊

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  5. this is quality stuff Mikey. So many things resonate with me. Your voice is so powerful a presence as you navigate these nostalgic disturbances… Longings. The innocence of carefree childhood , soon gives way to worry, bitterness…regret. They say, Once a man, Twice a child. Yet I don’t think the second time around us as carefree. 🥺😞💜

    Well done sir. 👏👏👏

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    1. Many thanks, Nigel. I wrestle with the knowledge that I’m too serious much of the time, and I’ve felt my entire life that I don’t really know how to relax and have fun. There are reasons for this (dysfunctional childhood, religious discrimination while growing up, etc.) and those reasons left me in this constant state of vigilance, always worrying about something or other. It’s exhausting. I remember as a kid, watching other kids at school just being themselves, no worries, having fun, and wondering why I couldn’t be that way, too. This poem is my lament to missing out on the simple joy of being alive. I have dim memories of my early childhood where I was blissfully unaware of most things and could find enjoyment in life, but those days didn’t last long. If I could reunite with my younger self, I have no idea if Little Mikey would recognize me now. So, a somber reflection on regrets and missed opportunities (like most of my poetry). Thanks for the kind words, man. I value your insights and opinions, amigo. 😊

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      1. Speaking of regrets . I was recently discussing with an old mate, how many things I missed out on due to religious restrictions. So many things we were fearful of.. or considered distasteful. Felt like so many lost opportunities mate. And the sad thing is..I can’t make up for those lost moments. Life just carried along at its punishing speed. 😞🙏

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    2. Yes, that’s the true tragedy of lost opportunities. We can’t go back and change things. I missed out on so much while growing up. I was able to compensate, to a degree, by focusing on things I could do in the present. For example, I wasn’t allowed to play Little League baseball except for one season when I was 12 , so decades later I became a youth baseball (and basketball) coach. It wasn’t the same as playing ball as a kid, but for those six years of coaching I was able to share my love of the games with my players and teach them about the life lessons sports have to offer. I absolutely loved those coaching years. A wise man once said, as adults we must be willing to give ourselves what was withheld from us in our childhood, or we’ll be filled with a lifetime of regret. I never got to pursue my dream of playing pro ball, but I was able to help a bunch of kids experience the simple joy of baseball and hoops. ⚾🏀😊

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  6. This poem is like, bam! – hits you with this craving for freedom and innocence. You can totally feel the speaker wrestling with their emotions and asking all those big life questions. It’s like you’re just laying it all out there, you know?

    ~David

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    1. Thanks, David. This one is pretty raw, for sure. I’ve always considered myself to be overly serious and vigilant (I had to be that way as a kid just to survive) and never able to just kick back and relax and have a little fun. Members of dysfunctional families each have different roles, and oftentimes multiple roles. I was the Perfect Kid and the Protector, yet I was also the Invisible Kid. I couldn’t relax at home or at school. Always had to be hyper-vigilant with my head on a swivel. Those traits have clung to my psyche all my life, even though I don’t need them anymore to survive. No need to protect my mom from my dad anymore (they’re both gone), no need to be perfect around other people (I’m extremely reclusive now), but those traits linger. I wanted to express my frustration with not being able to enjoy much of anything, and how it’s affected my life. I miss the innocence of youth, and like I mentioned to Nigel above, I have no idea if Little Mikey would recognize older Mr. Mike. If I ever met my child-self, he’d probably say, “Lighten up, boomer, jeez..!” 😄

      Anyway, that’s the story behind this poem. Thanks for your thoughtful comment and for stopping by to say hello. It’s always a pleasure to see you here, my friend.  😎 <== (me trying to kick back, relax and have fun!) 

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    1. Thanks, Peggy. I often wonder what Little Mikey would think of me nowadays. I know he’s still there. Perhaps I can coax him out with a cookie and have a chat with him, see how he’s doing. 🥛🍪 I appreciate your kindness, dear friend. Thanks for everything! 😊

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    1. Thank you kindly, Iseult. Aww, I can picture young Iseult sprinting forth to throw her arms around you! Little Mikey is the one I’m worried about–I predict he’d take a gander at me and hide under the bed! (I did this often as a kid whenever we had visitors at the farm.) 😁

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