Category: Poetry

“She was Six”

On By Mike U.In Poetry40 Comments

“She was Six”
(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

she was six
and on the wrong side
of a tyrant’s bomb sights
her small broken body
no match for
the shells and the hell
that befell
her country
city
neighborhood
block
home
her blood the price
of freedom
she was six

she was six
and on the wrong corner
of the wrong intersection
at the wrong time
as gang-bangers
threw lead
and fled
as she bled
just a typical night
in a typical city
she was six

she was six
and in the wrong classroom
at the wrong school
as a true patriot
flexed his might
and exercised his 2A right
to murder school children
another day
in the USA
she was six

she was six
and the wrong color
at the wrong border
snatched from her parents
caged like an animal
lost in the system
as racist thugs
praise god and country
and build their wall
one sin at a time
she was six

she was six
and the wrong religion
in the wrong village
her captors didn’t care
she didn’t last long enough
to stain their conscience anyway
all in the name of god
she was six

she was six
and on the wrong side of town
hollow eyes and empty stomach
the manic cackle of inhumanity
the soundtrack of her life
bruised body and soul
this dark alleyway to hell
her only escape
she was six

we have lost our way

“A Few Haiku (33)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry33 Comments

(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

(#193)

ursine winter’s claws
rend and tear and desecrate
yellow petals fall

…..

(#194)

this endless winter
memories of sunflowers
as the cities burn

…..

(#195)

children shall run free
in gilded sunflower fields
when this winter ends

…..

(#196)

glowing sunflowers
where there is light there is hope
we stand with Ukraine

…..

(#197)

sunflower seeds
plant the gardens of healing
watered with tears

…..

(#198)

cowards who start wars
shall die in ignominy
putin’s legacy

“A Few Haiku (32)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry35 Comments

(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

(#187)

the forsaken vase
still stands where you left it
waiting for your flower

…..

(#188)

in the end
my heaven could not redeem
your hell

…..

(#189)

memories of you
litter the oak-shadowed grass
I tread carefully

…..

(#190)

coy spring tarries
just beyond my winter heart
how I yearn for her

…..

(#191)

strawberry spring
the false hope of redemption
as the storm draws nigh

…..

(#192)

my destitute mind
is as barren as my heart
all the words have gone

“Breakers on Rocks”

On By Mike U.In Poetry31 Comments
Breakers on Rocks, near Port Orford, Oregon Coast (c) Mike Utley

W17(S)–Breakers on Rocks, near Port Orford, Oregon Coast
I spent the morning photographing breakers crashing like cannon-shots onto huge boulders just off the coast south of Port Orford in southern Oregon. These booms were incredibly loud. During a lull in the action as I was examining tiny fossilized shells in a nearby boulder, I glanced back at the ocean and saw the water rising rapidly. The Oregon Coast is notorious for its sneaker waves, which are like mini-tsunamis. I had climbed down a ten-foot dirt embankment to get to the vantage point for this image, and suddenly I realized I had to scramble back up immediately. Luckily, I was able to find some rocks to climb up and made my way to safety. When I looked again at the water, it had completely overwhelmed the spot I’d been standing on seconds earlier. I learned a valuable lesson that day: never turn your back on the ocean at any time, for any reason. (Canon gear, Fuji Velvia ISO 50)

“A Few Haiku (31)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry34 Comments

(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

(#181)

three chickadees…
winter’s ellipsis as earth
pauses in thought

…..

(#182)

winter cattails
frozen tiki torches glow
in silver moon-fire

…..

(#183)

in night’s cold silence
old snow-laden branch succumbs
too many winters

…..

(#184)

warmth and light and love
all the world’s hope resides
in my glowing hearth

…..

(#185)

messenger moon
conveys hope to my lost love
through the years and tears

…..

(#186)

light in the darkness
dawn of hope or setting sun
I cannot decide

“Thus the Evening’s Stillness Deepens”

On By Mike U.In Poetry32 Comments

“Thus the Evening’s Stillness Deepens”
(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

I don’t want to break the peaceful
stillness of this winter evening
as the gloaming deepens and the
shadows freeze upon the hills

I don’t want to leave my footprints
on the pristine frozen fields
where the haggard cornstalks gather
contemplating harvests past

I don’t want to burden forests
slumbering in hiemal stasis
dreaming of the coming springtime
and the warmth of summer sun

so I’ll tell the moon my secrets
shed my tears in silent prayers
rest my head on silver shoulders
close my eyes and bare my soul

there’s so much to say this evening
as I wait in darkling meadow
for the object of my fondness
as she peeks between the trees

she has never kept me waiting
she has never left me wanting
she has never sent me reeling
in the throes of winter’s woes

I can hear her humming softly
as the stars begin to sing in
perfect cosmic harmony an
airy astral aria

gathering her scarf and mantle
she ascends as alpenglow paints
roseate blush on pale cheekbones
crimson tincture on her lips

as she rises I stand helpless
in this chilly empty clearing
I am powerless against her
I surrender to her glow

there’s a kindness in her visage
as she turns her gaze upon me
there’s compassion as she wraps me
in her shimmering embrace

thus the evening’s stillness deepens
thus the frozen fields glimmer
thus the forests drift in slumber
thus my damaged soul renewed

“Spruce Cone & False Hellebore”

On By Mike U.In Poetry28 Comments
Spruce Cone & False Hellebore, Taylor Mesa, SW Colorado (c) Mike Utley

F64-1(S)–Spruce Cone & False Hellebore, Taylor Mesa, SW Colorado
A cluster of false hellebore was growing beneath a tall spruce and this cone was nestled within the folds of this particular plant. This was a “found image”–the spruce cone wasn’t placed there by me but arrived there of its own accord, via gravity. I liked how the lines, curves and soft color palette of the false hellebore contrasted with the rough texture of the cone, as well as how the plant seemed to gently and protectively cradle the lone cone. (Canon gear, Fuji Velvia ISO 50)

“A Tanka Trio (11)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry34 Comments

(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

(#31)

my exhausted faith
flows just as the drift ice flows
breaks and melts away
heaven’s reflection blurring
in the sea’s saltwater tears

…..

(#32)

I catch the water
dripping from the icicles
in a mason jar
as a gentle reminder
that I do not weep alone

…..

(#33)

moon paints snow angels
on forgotten midnight fields
only clouds can see
sleeping souls oblivious
to shy winter’s artistry

“January’s Scion”

On By Mike U.In Poetry27 Comments

“January’s Scion”
(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

January’s scion, born of winter
messenger of midnight’s dark domain
harbinger of fearful futures
herald of the past’s persistence
bearer of remembrances of
what shall surely be

I’ve succumbed to January’s Janus
peering ever forward and behind
frozen firmly on the threshold
of what was and what may soon be
doomed to bear the weight of all things
for eternity

there are reasons January haunts me
memories unmeltable come spring
anguished glacial recollections
nurse at doleful mountain’s bosom
hiemal tempest screams its sinful
arctic lullaby

blizzards pummel me across the decades
breath sucked from my lungs I cannot scream
woeful winters resurrected
stain the present, tinge the future
I cannot let go, my tired
mind encased in ice

mountain path from past to future voided
bone-white drifts of January’s wrath
stalk the trail in hulking silence
passage is impossible here
miles of dead denuded forest
bar my way ahead

I can’t scry the future in the darkness
terrifying in obscurity
thrumming rumbling shakes the earth as
cloying caustic vapors fester
sulfur-scented volcanism
lies ahead for me

close my eyes and I can see the carnage
close my ears and I can hear the cries
spewing peaks of raining cinders
fire-bomb the desolation
I can sense the future tremble
in uncertainty

memories entombed in frigid white flakes
worries of the future caked with ash
undead past alive and raging
unseen future salivating
waiting restlessly for me as
time moves ever on

“Rocky Mountain Columbine”

On By Mike U.In Poetry27 Comments
Rocky Mt. Columbine, Taylor Mesa, SW Colorado (c) Mike Utley

F38-1(S)–Rocky Mt. Columbine, Taylor Mesa, SW Colorado
This is my favorite flower. It grows up in the mountains where it’s cooler and shady. In the summers you can find meadows covered with columbine of various colors, including variations of purple, yellow and even red. This columbine was found growing beneath the lower branches of a dying conifer, whose brown needles serve to magnify the brilliant purple, white, yellow and green of the flower. (Canon gear, Fuji Velvia ISO 50)