“The Deaf Guy” published at Gobblers & Masticadores

Hey, folks. I’m excited to let you know that a series of essays I wrote about my experience as a deaf guy in a hearing world will be published at Gobblers & Masticadores, with the first one going live today. Many thanks to Juan Re Crivello for this opportunity to share my experiences with his readers. Today’s essay is “The Deaf Guy” and you can read it by following this link:

“The Deaf Guy” at Gobblers & Masticadores

It’s my hope that sharing my life as a deaf person will raise awareness of this “invisible disability” and the impact it has on those of us with hearing loss, and perhaps enlighten those with normal hearing in order to bridge the gap between us. I hope you enjoy it.

Once again, much gratitude to Juan Re Crivello for his kindness and generosity. It’s truly an honor for me.

Don’t forget to follow and subscribe to Gobblers & Masticadores, where you’ll find some wonderful writing and plenty of food for thought.

“The Flower” published at Chewers & Masticadores and Chewers Weekend Magazine

I’m pleased to let you know that my poem “The Flower” has been published at Chewers & Masticadores. Much gratitude goes to Nolcha Fox and her team for publishing this poem and for sharing it with their readers. Many thanks, Nolcha!

My poem has also been featured on Chewers Weekend Magazine, courtesy of Editors Nolcha Fox and J. Re Crivello. So, a big thank you to Nolcha and Juan for hosting my poem at Chewers Weekend Magazine, a humbling honor.

“The Flower”

“A flower grows in distant land
Whose sweet perfume anoints the soul
Whose silken petals soothe the hand
Of he who seeks to understand
And reaches outward to console…”

I’d be honored 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.

“A Summer’s Field in Winter”

“A Summer’s Field in Winter”
(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

let us sift through summer’s solemn ashes
let us scavenge rusted hopes from twisted
hulks of yesterdays amid the swelter
and the din of frigid silence
as crows circle

this broad swath the acreage of sorrow
garden of the gods whose feckless mewling
echoes ‘cross the eons and the seasons
crumble into dust as autumn
gives up her ghost

we were never long for this cold world, this
dispensation of abominations
sunset fell before the flax had faded
bleeding out beneath indiff’rent
constellations

paradise, oh paradise eternal
dashed upon the stones of human hubris
we the stewards dined on milk and honey
as our world descended into
oblivion

thus the world was burned and we burned with it
rendered lurking shadows in the gloaming
flesh and bone have failed us as the season
of regrets approaches; we have
earned winter’s wrath

in our dreams we’ll gather wild flowers
fetch the wicker basket for the poppies
crowns of woven larkspur shall adorn us
we will rest among oak shadows
in the clearing

and when we awaken from our slumber
and when we espy the desolation
let us sift through summer’s solemn ashes
in the winter’s frigid silence
as crows circle

(Author’s Note: This poem was originally published in Chewers & Masticadores in January 2023.)

Featured Blogger of the Week at Mitch Teemley’s “The Power of Story” Blog

I’m delighted to let you know I’ve been selected as Featured Blogger of the Week on Mitch Teemley’s The Power of Story blog. I’m humbled and honored that Mitch has chosen my poem “The Cairn” to highlight this week. Many thanks to Mitch for his kindness. I hope you’ll visit his blog and read his post by clicking this link. If you’ve never visited The Power of Story, you’re in for a real treat. Mitch’s posts are deep and humorous and incredibly uplifting, and include plenty of food for thought. Thanks again, Mitch! 🙂

“The Bonfire” published at Chewers & Masticadores

I’d like to announce that my poem “The Bonfire” has been published at Chewers & Masticadores. My sincere thanks goes to Nolcha Fox and her team for publishing this poem. It’s always such an honor to be included at Chewers & Masticadores and I’m deeply humbled. Thanks so much, Nolcha!

“The Bonfire”

“in our exuberance to burn the words
Bradbury sagely nods and Orwell sighs
as shock-troopers corral the motley herds
and churlish masses watch with sullen eyes

bonfires glow red in every city square
eight thousand million names recited there
black smoke and fetid fumes assault the air
as filthy faces flicker in the glare…”

I’d be pleased 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.

(Author’s note: This poem is inspired by the recent rash of censorship being pushed by the republican party here in America, where books are being banned and even burned as right-wing radicals promote fear, lies and hatred aimed at people of color and marginalized groups. Also, in many places across the globe, freedom of speech is under siege as authoritarian regimes crack down on those who speak truth and expose their evil deeds. As writers, we cannot allow this to happen. We have voices; we must use them to ensure all people are free to speak their minds.)

“The Thing on the Corner” published at Chewers & Masticadores

I’m pleased to let you know my poem “The Thing on the Corner” has been published at Chewers & Masticadores. Many thanks to Nolcha Fox and her team for sharing this poem with their readers. To have my work included with that of so many talented writers is an honor for which I’m deeply grateful. Thank you, Nolcha!

“The Thing on the Corner”

“The thing on the corner
That squalid revenant
That only I could see
As my daily peregrination
Took me through the city
Past vulgar monuments
To capitalism and greed
Through roiling seas of
Soulless apathetic drones
The mindless rhythm of
Humanity
The ebb and flow of futility…”

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.

“The Cairn”

“The Cairn”
(c) 2023 by Michael L. Utley

a handful of stones
the currency of a hardened heart
cannot purchase a reprieve
from the weight of mountains
upon my soul

scree of memories
who can navigate the slope
of ankle-breaking regrets
the sharpened shale
of the empty slate
where hope
was once etched
and now only
dust remains

we walked that path
through the foothills of yesterday
where everything was evergreen
the eternal evening
redolent of lilac and honeysuckle
and wild rose
and the wan moon
dozed in the lavender sky
and you were there
but you weren’t there
your body in a mountain meadow
and your mind in
a roiling pit of despair

I held your hand
more tightly than I should have
I couldn’t let go
not then
(not now)
but you didn’t seem to mind
your trembling fingers
nested in my palm
like a dying sparrow
losing heat
as you lost opacity

I could see you fading

we walked that path
where the trees thicken
and congregate
and whisper furtively
and the air hangs in tatters
from gnarled, pensive boughs
and you closed your eyes
and hummed an atonal tune
more of a whimper than a song
and I tried to accompany you
but my voice was gone
stone-silent
lungs airless
mind blank
and your strange aria
stirred the moon-dappled patches
on the path
into a kaleidoscope of sorrow
and a smile touched your pale lips
as my heart broke

I held your hand
until it was nothing
but a memory
the sky above
now an empty void
your skin iridescing
in the gloaming
as though tinctured
with fallen stars
and glowing novae
evanescing
your essence diminishing

we walked that path
until I walked alone
your silent song
forever in my mind
an echo among
cold indifferent granite peaks
the sound of emptiness
of a heart in pieces
of a life bereft of solace
a handful of stones
to remind me
that you existed
long ago
and far away

should you ever
pass this way again
look for the cairn
along the path
there you’ll find
what’s left
of my heart

“The Apple Tree” published at Chewers & Masticadores

I’m happy to announce my poem “The Apple Tree” has been published at Chewers & Masticadores. Much gratitude goes to editor Nolcha Fox and her team for this opportunity to share my poetry with their readers. I’m honored and humbled to have my work published alongside some incredibly talented writers at Chewers & Masticadores. Deepest thanks, Nolcha!

“The Apple Tree”

“The apple tree
Behind the house
Has long ago
Stopped bearing fruit

It stands alone
In sickness bold
Half its branches
Dead or dying…”

I’d be pleased 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.

“I’ve Come at Last to Anhedonia”

“I’ve Come at Last to Anhedonia”
(c) 2023 by Michael L. Utley

I’ve come at last to Anhedonia
that bleak and melancholy land
beyond the god-forsaken desert sand
far ‘cross the sea of memories
where sunlight fades and none has e’er returned

the forests filled with stunted things
that in the shadows furtive lurk
rise forth from mires amid the murk
of blackened loam and caustic springs

and yellowed grasses’ brittle bones
that slough and sigh in bitter breeze
a desiccated meadow’s wheeze
a mournful death-rattle intones

I’ve come at last to Anhedonia
that lightless and forbidden place
beyond the hopes and dreams and saving grace
of human ken and mortal men
where moonlight fails and none has e’er returned

the stony fields and fetid fens
and moors forever draped in gloom
the whispers of impending doom
that echo in forgotten glens

the stars too faint to pierce the night
the cloying and unsettled haze
of apathetical malaise
that dulls even the purest light

I’ve come at last to Anhedonia
that languid and indiff’rent spot
beyond the realm of clarity of thought
where logic lies and purpose dies
where heart-light ebbs and none has e’er returned

the monuments to moments past
have crumbled ‘neath the weight of years
eroded by a lifetime’s tears
no joy in life is meant to last

it’s here I’ve found a resting place
a place to numb my pains and fears
eternal nights, eternal years
eternal sorrow I embrace

I’ve come at last to Anhedonia
that silent clearing in the trees
with bittersweet nostalgia on the breeze
where I will fade like mem’ries made
so long ago, and I shall ne’er return

“Doubt”

“Doubt”

(c) 2023 by Michael L. Utley

an abandoned field
an overcast sky
a cedar post
a river stone
a random trajectory
something will shatter
in a moment
when sorrow
and regret
merge
forcefully

so many thrown stones
litter the ground
around the post
missed opportunities
bad timing
a reprieve from
consequences
too brutal
to imagine
should wood
and stone
connect

but this time

is different

my aim is true
and through
tear-blurred eyes
I find clarity at last
as the stone
strikes the post
dead-center
and there is
no longer
any doubt