“It’s Much Too Late” published at Gobblers By Masticadores

On By Mike U.In Poetry

I’d like to let everyone know my poem “It’s Much Too Late” has been published at Gobblers By Masticadores. Sincere thanks to Juan Re Crivello and Manuela Timofte and their staff for this opportunity to share my poetry with their readers—it’s always an honor.

“It’s Much Too Late”
(c) 2017 by Michael L. Utley

“Autumn rain
Cannot slake
Summer’s thirst

It’s much too late
For yellowed grass
And barren field

Leaves which fall unseen
Litter ground in mounds
Scarlet memories

It’s much too late
For mountain leas
Devoid of hue…”

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

37 thoughts on ““It’s Much Too Late” published at Gobblers By Masticadores”

  1. Oh what a wonderful poem indeed, my friend Mike. It’s much too late as I’m reading this at 4am and was harkened to be delight by a something else to read [study]. I enjoy your sneaky-style as a Writer + Poet. There’s something about it. I think you use quite incredibly severe, often dismal words of any sort. Varietal and descriptive, abstract at almost every corner I could pin a line let alone a stanza. (Or the whole poem.) Though, this one comes off whimsical to me. Maybe it’s Night Owl-Ethics, but it’s something so transient. Even with the autumn leaves depicting so in the header. Staying up late and seeing where the night takes, work or not, wearisome or not, according to life or not.. It was very much beautiful☺😄

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    1. Thanks, Sam. Another melancholy poem from Mr. Melacholy, eh? I was inspired by an unbidden memory of a brittle tumbleweed I remembered seeing on the farm when I was a kid, bone-white and so delicate, and it had an aura of abandonment to it, of being left behind. Nothing could save it or restore it. It was much too late. I feel like that tumbleweed, being blown across the desert of my later years, in search of that frosty mug of A&W root beer that I’ll never find… 🤣 Well, something like that. 😄

      Thanks for the kind words, my friend. 😊

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      2. Oh well The Melancholic Misanthrope [part-time formerly] used to wrangle unbridled tumbleweeds for the local VFD amongst Arizona and whatever other desert climbs I found myself in walking the highways and deserts. Juniper and sage essential oils coating my hands and it lasted as my fragrance semi-forever even into these days. I got many A&W floats out of all those long walks to you guessed it – The Flea Markets!! What can ya do desert dude, but keep searching for the wondrous pioneer barrel😉😄

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  4. Congratulations, dear Mike. I’m always pleased to know about your publications😊 but you know my greatest desire — to see book of poetry by my dear friend, Mike😊 I always pray for that. Because your work deserves it.

    I love this poem, too, as always:) Beautifully written👍

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    1. Thanks so much, Saima. Your kindness is a wonderful gift. I do hope a book project is forthcoming. There are some obstacles in the way that I’m trying to overcome (frustrating things outside of my control), but if I can find a way, I’ll most definitely set about publishing a collection of my poetry. A signed copy shall be yours, my friend! Fingers crossed that I can make this happen. It’s been a dream of mine since I was a teenager to publish a book of my writing.

      I appreciate you, dear Saima. Thanks for being here. 😊

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    1. I couldn’t comment for some reason at Gobblers, so I’m back here to extent my congrats on the publication. Your poems are always powerful, Mike, and this one no less. Beautiful imagery of the inevitable and irreversible dying of summer. The personal tie-in at the end is a shift that alters the poems meaning, and yet it’s the parallels that make it incredibly moving. Well done, my friend.

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      1. Kindest thanks, Diana. Yep, Gobblers is sort of glitchy at times as far as comments are concerned. I’m glad to know you liked this little poem. It’s sort of different for me as my stuff is usually more lengthy, but I was playing with syllabic structure here and using short lines and stanzas. I had a memory of a tumbleweed I saw as a kid (such a random memory) and that was the inspiration for this piece. The fragility of life, the impermanence of time and how it passes so quicky, and how our lives are affected by it. At my age, it feels as though it’s much too late for just about everything.

        Thanks again for your wonderful support, my friend. I appreciate you. 😊

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      2. What an interesting inspiration for the piece. I somethings think about the little creatures in our world whose lifespans are week or month or a few years and then their gone. Life sure is brief and fragile. I’m older than you, so I’m very cognizant that my time is sliding away. Each day I lose a big chunk of what’s left. But it’s that brevity and fragility that makes it all so precious, so I chose to believe it’s never too late as long as we’re here to make the effort. My optimistic perspective maybe, which I’ll hold onto as long as I can. 🙂 Hugs, my friend.

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    1. Thank you kindly, Aaysid. Your constant support means so much to me. I’m sooo far behind in catching up with other bloggers. Please accept my apologies. Your blog is one of my absolute favorites and I need to indulge myself with your brilliant verse. Thanks again for being here, my friend. You are most certainly appreciated. 😊

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    1. Thanks, Nigel. Yes, this one has a sort of inevitability to it, a sort of impending doom. Much of my poetry is like this, alas… It was a bit of a departure for me as I tend to write longer verse, but I was going for a specific structure here, with short stanzas and a rigid syllabic style. Let’s hope it’s not really too late, eh? 😊

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