Tag: loneliness

“I Cannot Ask the Mountain…”

On By Mike U.In Poetry13 Comments

“I Cannot Ask the Mountain…”
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

I cannot ask the mountain
To carry my burden
For it shoulders the
The cumbrous glacier
The forsaken tor
The desolate scree slope
It weeps already
At its heavy load
Remorseful streams
Of alpine tears
Flow into tarns of regret
Secret cirques of sorrow
Hidden in its granite heart

I cannot ask the forest
To assuage my fears
For it attends to
The capricious breeze
Gathers thoughtless birds
To empty nests
Shepherds hind and hart
To twilight copses
Shelters hares among
Sword fern shadows
Its vigilant whisper
An exhausted sigh
I must let it sleep

I cannot ask the meadow
To save my soul
For it is laid to rest
Its cacophony
Of summer essence
Drained of hue and humor
Unkempt autumnal whiskers
Of dried grasses and weeds
All that remain on its
Forgotten countenance
It has no voice left
To perform last rites
For a dying world
No solemn hymns
Drift from dusty lea
To offer salvation

I cannot ask the sky
To forgive my sins
For it cares not
The callous sun
The fickle moon
The incurious stars
Time itself
Oblivious to all
They are occupied
With eternity
Not the pedestrian pain
Of one lost soul
Standing on the edge
Of a clearing
On a random
Autumn evening
Watching the universe
Spin silently overhead
Through burning tears

“Hana no Niwa (Garden of Flowers)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry10 Comments

“Hana no Niwa (Garden of Flowers)”
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

In the restless nights
In the small flower garden
Spider lilies weep
Mournful beneath midnight moon
Dreaming higanbana dreams

They cry in silence
Do they know for whom they grieve
Do they remember
It was you who planted them
It was you who gave them life

They are not alone
In the soil of memories
In their moonlit tears
In my hana no niwa
In my place of remembrance

Magenta sweet peas
Bow their heads and bid farewell
To the one whose hands
Long-fingered and delicate
Caressed suitopi blooms

When the frost has come
Ivory chrysanthemums
Lay to rest your name
In autumnal kiku tombs
In dark chambers of my heart

In the pallid glow
Of tsuki and winter stars
Camellias die
Shed their crimson petals in
Snowy tsubaki lament

In the spring voices
Of sakura sing of you
Cherry blossoms mark
Your fleeting days in the sun
When skies were forever blue

In opposing climes
Doleful daffodils remain
Solemn sunflowers
Suisen, himawari
Pay respects with humble hearts

There’s a hidden place
In my hana no niwa
In my broken heart
Where my love for you still grows
Flowers bloom eternally

You are always there
Kneeling in the fertile loam
Under summer sun
Tending our flower garden
Where skies are forever blue

“A Few Haiku (7)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry13 Comments

(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

(#37)

Swathed in winter’s arms
Chilly bosom hushes earth
Snowy lullaby

…..

(#38)

As heron’s plume drifts
Away on a silent stream
Memories of you fade

…..

(#39)

Do worms of the earth
Dream of sunlight; are their minds
As blind as their eyes

…..

(#40)

I’ve tried to catch the
Fleeting breeze in my hands but
I am unworthy

…..

(#41)

In the thunderstorm
Footprints filled with rain water
I have lost my way

…..

(#42)

Near the waterfall
Yellow birds drink from the cups
Of purple flowers

“Eleven Days”

On By Mike U.In EssaysLeave a comment

“Eleven Days”
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

The wind blows
Those shadows deeper
Into gloaming recesses
Of pine corridors
As aspens
Denuded and shamed
By autumn’s fickle fury
Huddle shivering
In dim dusk

In my heart
Those eleven days
Of silence tore me apart
Like carrion birds
My soul chipped
Away like frost-cracked
Rock on frigid granite tor
Mind numbed by gelid
Confusion

How could I
Have foreseen my gift
For you would shatter your heart
Send you spiraling
Into your
Personal abyss
Disrupt delicate balance
Leave you retreating
In the dark

How could I
Have foreseen my love
For you would turn you away
In anger and fear
When all I
Wanted was to say
I would wait for you as you
Sought to find yourself
Once again

I was so
Afraid that you would
Disappear into the void
Of black depression
Lose yourself
Among demons that
Barred you from the healing flame
Of lucid mind and
Sanity

I was so
Afraid all was lost
All we built on tenuous
Foundations destroyed
Fragile trust
Dashed upon the rocks
Of hopelessness and despair
Fledgling dreams of joy
Now sundered

And how could
I foresee that when
You returned to me at last
Those eleven days
Of heartache
Gone in cautious hope
Never to return were but
A harbinger of
Our demise

That the next eleven days
Would last a lifetime
Without you

The wind blows
My sorrow deeper
Into gloaming recesses
Of my heart and mind
Memories
Denuded and shamed
By regret’s fickle fury
Huddle shivering
In dim dusk

“A Few Haiku (5)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry3 Comments

(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

(#25)

Fronds torn by the storm
Willow bathes her wounds in tears
Heaven cries above

…..

(#26)

In konara copse
Broken axe is silent now
Entombed by the ferns

…..

(#27)

In my sorrow
I doubt even sparrow’s joy
Can restore my heart

…..

(#28)

In chill autumn rain
Memories of sakura
Memories of you

…..

(#29)

There is bird-song when
I see my bare-footed love
Smiling demurely

…..

(#30)

All I wish for you
Is that you are happy and
You’ll remember me

“The Trunk”

On By Mike U.In Poetry1 Comment

“The Trunk”
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

There is a place for things
That don’t belong in
Other places
That sere and weathered
Trunk that hunkers lupine-like
Amid dust-addled attic shadows
Wood split and gouged
With time and neglect
Iron bands and fittings
A crumble of rust
Lockless clasp broken
From endless breeches
And pryings
I should have
Replaced that lock
Eons ago
The ill-fitting lid
Is too loose
More decoration
Than function
And tends to rattle
Of its own accord
Much too frequently
For what’s inside wants to
Breathe
Stretch
Pop knuckles
Champ teeth
And feed
And only I can
Contain it

I am the guardian
Of my thoughts
The gatekeeper
Of my soul
The sentinel
Who slumbers
Far too often
And I have the scars
To prove it
Pandora knew nothing
Of depression
Of the sticky ichor
That coats minds
Chokes souls
Rends hearts
Ends with
Restless bones
In paupers’ graves

There is no light
In this trunk
Rather
It devours light and life
Siphons energy
Drains minds of clarity
Its bitter harvest
A wretched bounty
Of lies and darkness

I have discarded
This trunk hundreds of times
Thousands of times
Banished it to
The furthest reaches
Of the void
And when I turn around
It’s still there
Lurking stealthily in
Tenebrous attic shadows
Slavering
Grinning
A dead-blue
Feral glow
About it that
Bespeaks of
Baleful knowledge
Best kept under
Lock and key

Mere vigilance is futile
Hyper-vigilance exhausting
This night never-ending
The callous sun
Cannot penetrate
The claptrap slats
Of my mind
I must stand
On my own
In this blackness
And fight to keep
This trunk shut
To render impotent
Its contents
To save myself
Or die trying

“Forgotten”

On By Mike U.In Poetry3 Comments

“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

“It’s Not Lost”

On By Mike U.In Poetry13 Comments

“It’s Not Lost”
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

It’s not lost on me
How this coral-tinctured eve
Tempers morning’s joy
With sadness and coos of doves
Grieve dying light’s somber end

It’s not lost on me that I
Never got to bid farewell
As sun languishes
On melancholy verge of
Day’s bitter demise

It’s not lost on me
That no matter how I tried
I could not reach you
My arms were not strong enough
To save you from siren’s song

It’s not lost on me that I
Could not give you what you sought
To slay your demons
Could not be your shining hope
In your darkest hour

It’s not lost on me
That I mourn what never was
What could never be
How I wish this night would end
How I wish for you again

“When Field Work is Done”

On By Mike U.In Poetry7 Comments

“When Field Work is Done”
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

When field work is done and soil tells
A tale of fragrant earth in russet tones
When ground-mist hunkers in secluded dells
And eventide descends upon the swells
Of solemn and discordant distant bells

I follow god-beams west, these tired bones
Sun-gilded in the cool remains of day
As fields pass beside the cobblestones
And honey-hives a-swarm with buzzing drones
And cudding cow in pasture lows and moans

The neighbor’s barn, a faded sun-bleached gray
Leans sleepily as I approach the bend
Where cobblestones succumb to moistened clay
And farm cats mouse-hunt stealthily in hay
And foals and piglets gambol as they play

Ripe apple trees stretch roadward to suspend
Their fruits to all who amble past below
And conifers at orchard’s distant end
Stand sentry as if ready to defend
This past’ral scene from all who might offend

And I, as evening stars begin to glow
And insects tune their instruments and sing
Their night-song, wend my way beside the slow
And clam’rous brook that gleams not far below
As moon peeks through the pines and winks hello

And pausing, I can’t help remembering
The lonely hearth that waits at home, the still
And barren house, silent, unwelcoming
The empty bed, no candle beckoning
No one who waits upon my homecoming

I watch the moon as noisy waters rill
Then close my eyes and breathe in willow-air
And stand alone in darkling evening’s chill
And tell myself through iron force of will
To swallow yet again this bitter pill

Then turning back the way I came, I stare
Into the gloaming’s ever-deep’ning hue
As tired feet propel me through the glare
Of starlit tears that blind and shame, and there
In dim distance the fate I’m doomed to bear

I run as moonlit field comes into view
For nothing’s left but field work to do

“Sea of Trees”

On By Mike U.In Poetry9 Comments

“Sea of Trees”
(c) 2019 by Michael L. Utley

To slake my thirst
With dew from leaves that never see the light
Arboreal the tears that fall and quench
The darkest dreams

To fill my bowels
With loam whose cloying scent bespeaks of death
Arboreal the taste of living earth
My hunger begs

To see the gleam
‘Neath tenebrous shadows and rayless groves
Arboreal the blackest night in day
Below the boughs

To run rough hands
O’er scabrous bark and hardened boles and moss
Arboreal the pillars scrape the sky
In breezes weep

The silence holds
Forbidden knowledge
The silence holds
The universe
The silence holds
The truth

The path wends through
This living thing, this thing that sighs and cries
And dies and eats itself a cannibal
Whose roots betray sorrowful sentience
Whose trunks hold back the sky with anguished might
Whose limbs strain forth in melancholy pleas
A beckoning

A reckoning
The path into the gloom is just a path
With littered leaves and lichen on the rocks
And overhead the canopy to keep
The sky from falling down under the weight
Of lifetimes filled with torment and regret
It’s just a path

No need to fear
The forest welcomes me it knows my name
Envelops me in arms of somber green
It sings to me a song of silent peace
It pulls me down the path on wings of leaves
It whispers of a place where I may rest
And leads me there

There are others
Herein among the endless sea of trees
Herein among the caverns and the gulfs
Herein among the secrets and the cries
Which echo faintly in sepulchral voids
Herein where many come and none return
There are others

These are my kin
These shades that linger far beyond their time
And welcome me with soundless empty stares
And follow me along the darkling path
And shimmer as mirages in the air
And fade away as if they’d never been
Into the trees

The silence holds
Everything

Arboreal
My personal Aokigahara
My sea of trees my jade remembrance
There is a place just off the path ahead
A place of sodden leaves and broken twigs
And bitter cold that numbs away all pain
A resting place

I am not that boy who saw the sun
I have never seen the sun nor shall
I see only trees