“Idyllic” published at Hotel by Masticadores

On By Mike U.In Poetry

Hello, everyone. My poem “Idyllic” is now available for your perusal at Hotel by Masticadores. I’m grateful to editor Michelle Navajas for publishing this piece, which is an unapologetic, unvarnished rendition of what rural life is really like in parts of this lost and broken country. Thank you, Michelle, for sharing this dark poem with with your readers.

“Idyllic”
© 2025 by Michael L. Utley

“Leroy blew his
fingers off with
blasting caps he stole
from some old granary
and he’d chew on the
blackened stumps
while waiting
for the school bus
like some kind of
hard dude
like he didn’t feel
a thing
I hated him
but I understood
numbness
and I knew he was
dead inside
knowing his
little sisters
were never
coming back
from that long-ago
pile of twisted metal
on the highway
he was sixteen
and already
an old man…“

You can read the rest of my poem here:

“Idyllic”© 2025 by Michael L. Utley

Also, please consider following and subscribing to Hotel by Masticadores, where you’ll discover a world of wonderfully imaginative and profound writing.

28 thoughts on ““Idyllic” published at Hotel by Masticadores”

    1. Thanks, Pat. Yep, two of the characters were grandfather and grandson who lived about two and a half miles from our farm. The other character’s family lived a mile up the road. Surreal stuff, and it’s hard to believe that “big city” crime occurs often way out in the middle of nowhere, but it does. We lived eighteen miles from the nearest town but we always had to keep our doors locked. Ah, farm life in Dystopia…

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    1. Thank you, Ashley. Fortunately, there were some good neighbors as well, folks we could count on who became friends and classmates. It only takes one bad apple to spoil the whole bunch, though, you know?

      Wishing you a peaceful weekend, my friend. 😊

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    1. Thank you kindly, Carol. Horrendous, indeed. Familial and environmental corruption and dysfunction can do so much damage. Kids growing up in violent drug homes never have much of a chance of breaking the cycle.

      I hope you’re doing well and enjoying November in your neck o’ the woods. 😊

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  10. Congratulations, Mike, on this wonderful publication.

    Mike, what a great piece of writing about the crazy ways of the far-country life – those people who lie low until they don’t. I have met many such folks and all incredible stories in what I call the deep south, which is where the roads are not paved and the crazies can run amok. I am sure I knew people that, had I known their entire story, I would have been afraid of them. Your piece draws you in with the vivid characters you draw and the dangerous way of life they chose. Of course, the one that hits the hardest for me is the one that describes your dad. I really loved these lines, especially, and felt their impact and sorrow deeply:

    «this hick menagerie
    his arrogant bullying
    earned him the moniker
    “little hitler”
    among the Leroys
    and Ronnies
    and Old Buds
    of this nowhere place
    this idyllic pastoral
    version of hell»

    The entire last stanza hit me hard and made my heart sink. It is hard to get a decent beginning when surrounded by the craziness that we were my dear friend. Great piece of writing as always, and a treat to read, no matter how upsetting. Such is life. Hugs and love coming from VA.

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    1. Thanks a bunch, Joni. You always possess such a keen eye when it comes to understanding my poetry. Country life can be blissful and quiet…but it can also be terrifying and hopeless. I’ll tell you, the image of that teenager chewing the blackened stump of his thumb while waiting for the school bus haunted me for the longest time. I never knew all the background stories of my neighbors, but there was plenty of info in the local paper’s sheriff’s blotter every week, and rumors spread quickly. Personal experiences leave spectral claw marks in the mind, too, that last forever. And yet, there’s sorrow, knowing those people are now dead and they never were able to redeem themselves. They were all lost, including my monster of a father. It seems at once both clear-cut and yet so complicated when examining these old memories. Life is so messy.

      Thanks for your always present support, dear friend. And thank you for understanding my poetry on a deep level. All the best to you and Scott. *raises can of Mug root beer* 😊🍺

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      1. Thank you Mike. It is always a joy to read your work. It might be depressing to some but I can relate to your work and my appreciation for your descriptive phrases are brilliant. Yes, I know about those claw marks my dear friend. I have always felt that some people are brought up with so much abuse that they almost “never had a chance to have any kind of normal life.”

        “A root beer 🍺 cheers to you my friend!”

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  11. Wow! Your haiku and senryu beautifully blend nature with deep emotions. Each line reflects sensitivity and depth. The intensity and symbolism in #127 and #128 are particularly striking, while #129’s imagery of rain and renewal is truly captivating. Reading your collection is both a joy and a reflective experience. Thank you for sharing such wonderful literature with us.

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    1. Thank you so much–you’re incredibly kind. I’m delighted to know you enjoyed the haiku and senryu. To condense a moment, an emotion, a thought down to their very essence is immensely satisfying. I love Japanese short-form poetry. Thanks for your generous words of support. 😊

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