(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley
(#295)
in konara copse
ferns beckon
with come-hither fingers
…..
(#296)
white chrysanthemum
she sleeps in the cool embrace
of oak shadows
…..
(#297)
in the garden
corn silk and laughter
my mother’s memories
…..
(#298)
her impression left
on hand-made rice cakes
and my heart
…..
(#299)
I’ll cross the footbridge
soon enough but for now
let me enjoy the stream
…..
(#300)
live long enough
even the mountain will betray you
the forked path
(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley
(#289)
burning leaf piles
a taste of smoke
the flavor of melancholy
…..
(#290)
a handful of
broken promises
last autumn’s acorns
…..
(#291)
Aokigahara
Fuji’s shoulders bear
the weight of sorrow
…..
(#292)
ragged sheaves
my old rusted sickle
nears harvest’s end
…..
(#293)
these tears
it’s the bitter autumn wind
that’s all
…..
(#294)
in a field of sage and lupine
a young boy dreams
an old man weeps
“Forgotten”
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley
Those who fade away
Dust-covered and forgotten
Hushed in melancholy thought
Those of us denied
Peering through the river reeds
Watching joy drift out of reach
Who will remember
Those abandoned on the path
Those who fall by the wayside
We the silent ones
Mournful ones invisible
Just a burden nothing more
Will our lives echo
Down the road you travel on
Will our mem’ries be erased
As easily as
Closing your eyes and your hearts
As you pass us on your way
To something better
One day you’ll be one of us
Old infirm alone and weak
One day you will weep
Reach out bony fingers as
Youth and beauty pass you by
As you fade away
Dust-covered and forgotten
Hushed in melancholy thought
“The Apple Tree”
© 2013 by Michael L. Utley
The apple tree
Behind the house
Has long ago
Stopped bearing fruit
It stands alone
In sickness bold
Half its branches
Dead or dying
Leaves the hue
Of summers past
Defy the sun
The pouring rain
Bound there in
White-knuckled grip
On mournful twigs
On listless boughs
As autumn fades
The leaves succumb
Each one a
Small gold suicide
Each gilded drop
A dying spark
A universe now
Mute in death
No one knows
This apple tree
Behind the house
A secret world
Where eons pass
And ages fade
Unknown to all
Except to me
And chilly sun
And hurried cloud
And thoughtless bird
And bitter breeze
The pristine snow
Has covered all
A silent shroud
Has fallen here
An icy dirge
A funeral pall
As winter metes
A healing balm
In sanguine hope
That springtime sun
Will summon forth
The apple tree
But even so
It saddens me
This futile thing
This apple tree
That cannot see
It matters not
If life abounds
When living hurts
To live alone
Infirm and weak
While bony fingers
Seek the sky
And wretched leaves
In breezes weep
And shattered dreams
Litter the ground
In autumn piles
Of yellow dross
That go unseen
And fade away
Silent Pariah 