Tag: memories

“Grandfather” (reprise)

On By Mike U.In Poetry44 Comments

(originally posted 9/25/2021)

“Grandfather” (Part 1)
© 2012 by Michael L. Utley

The twitching thing that lay upon the bed
Was not my grandfather. It wore his face
And smelled of him, old coffee and a trace
Of cigarettes. Its eyes were rimmed with red
And rheumy and they twinkled in its head
Like distant dying stars. And in that place
Deep down inside where man and mind embrace
My grandfather had lost his mind and fled.

Where did he go, that man I once had known?
What horrors did he see, what eldritch lies
Ensnared him in the darkness and the din
Of lunacy? And was he all alone?
He was; I saw it in his weeping eyes
And in the tremble of his wretched grin.

…..

“Friction” (Part 2)
© 2012 by Michael L. Utley

The friction between
Two blades of grass
In a breeze
Is enough to
Shatter continents
The old man said
Look there—
And he blew his
Old man’s breath across the
Dead-yellow backyard lawn
Africa—gone!
Australia—kaput!
Antarctica—it were nice knowin ye!
And his bib-overalled belly
Shook with seismic tremors
Of raspy cigarette-scented
Laughter
And his age-dimmed eyes
Almost sparkled in their
Crevasse of wrinkles

And I grabbed his sandpaper hand
And choked back tears
The flavor of oceans
And I held my breath
Too afraid to breathe

…..

“Five Seconds” (Part 3)
© 2012 by Michael L. Utley

The old man speaks to me
Across the decades
Soundless words
Forever trapped in
Ninety frames of
Grainy Super-8

He walks away
Then turns at my
Teenaged beckoning
Hey, Grampa!
The shutter whirs
Like hummingbirds
Stealing a flower’s soul
Stealing my grandfather’s soul
The arcane machinations
Bending time and space
He is here in my machine
He is here

His Viking grin
His weathered overalls
His sweat-stained cap
His cologne of coffee and cigarettes
He stops
He speaks

I can’t hear his voice

Five seconds
He is alive
Rewind
Five seconds
He is alive
Rewind

I can’t hear his voice

He speaks to me across the decades
The silent film
Damning him
Damning me
I read his lips his eyes his smile
I will die soon
He seems to say
The strokes will be
Only the beginning
He seems to say
Everything will change
He seems to say
Everything but these
Five seconds I have with you
And you with me
And I am saying
Anything you wish
Anything you need me to say
Anytime you see me here

He turns
He smiles
He speaks
He walks away

Rewind

“I’ve Come at Last to Anhedonia”

On By Mike U.In Poetry40 Comments

“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”

On By Mike U.In Poetry27 Comments

“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

“This World is Yours”

On By Mike U.In Poetry69 Comments

“This World is Yours”
(c) 2023 by Michael L. Utley

you thought you could
save the world
wee lad
you couldn’t even
save yourself

those bleak nighthawk skies
where dead stars fall
like blood-bloated flies
and fey winds howl
in deafened ears
a behemoth’s fetid exhalation
violent and ignorant
and inexorable

breathe
breathe it all in
the sweat-soaked fear
the bitter tang of futility
fill your lungs
wee lad
this world is yours
as far as tear-blurred
eyes can see

pry up decrepit floorboards
in the dim derelict
cellar of childhood
see the blind white-bellied
squirming things
trundle dumbly, aimlessly
in sepulchral voids
gelatinous excreta
glistening in darkness
a treasure trove
of memories
a box of hell
a gift that keeps on giving
handle these with care
wee lad
lest they consume your soul

you battled the familiar demon
on twilight moors of yore
he wore your scar for years
you’ll wear his for eternity
wee lad
your popsicle stick sword
your pie tin shield
your best intentions
your noble cause
did you really think
you had a chance in hell
of slaying the beast?
what’s a little blood
between father and son?

the elixir of time is a lie
there is no balm for
a childhood stripped
from its moorings
with such casual cruelty

see the sullen sun
heliograph dully
on the lake of fate
see the dun birds
peregrinate incuriously above
see the reflection on the water
the wee old man
with hollow eyes
and broken soul
see the pulsing stormcloud
brooding, ever-present
on the horizon

the myth of idyllic youth
the hue of quicksilver
and autumn wheat
the clever, cloying scent
of false hope
the raucous, pealing thunder
of sundered souls
the thresher’s flail looms
and you fall before it as chaff
blown from this world
on eldritch zephyrs

within the forest of years
the darkling path
opens before you
and closes behind
in peristaltic spasms
as the trees swallow you
in green silence
this quiet place
devoid of time
a resting place
a tomb of giants
a dying place
for those so inclined
no memories allowed here
nor light nor love nor healing
only darkness
and the furtive murmur
of moon-shadows

you were a boy once
for seven years
now your ethereal form
drifts among
strange nameless constellations
across forgotten eons
you won’t find yourself here
wee lad
that kid is long gone
but you must find something
before all is lost

“A Few Haiku (50)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry50 Comments

(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

“A Few Haiku (46)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry77 Comments

(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

(#271)

blurred images and
a smudge of words on a page
is this all I am

…..

(#272)

puddle of cold wax
where my candle burned out
waiting for the light

…..

(#273)

thirty-six hours
between my tears and your death
a lifetime since then

…..

(#274)

fallow fields, dry ponds
fences in disrepair
long-dead memories

…..

(#275)

hope stretched thin and taut
across brittle bones of time
a dry husk of life

…..

(#276)

sorrow’s bedrock or
hope’s aquifer; either way
naught left but to dig

“A Few Haiku (45)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry41 Comments

(c) Michael L. Utley

(#265)

scrub my memories
hang them on the line to dry
before the storm comes

…..

(#266)

summer thunderheads
the past tears a swath across
the plains of my soul

…..

(#267)

post-rain gloaming
ghost-light from an unseen sun
sorrow’s harbinger

…..

(#268)

in this endless night
even eternity flees
from my broken soul

…..

(#269)

sepulchral silence
as the stars spin overhead
in the dead of night

…..

(#270)

when my soul awakes
will I see the dawn of hope
or hope’s dying light

“A Few Haiku (44)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry36 Comments

(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

(#259)

fallow fields
granary of memories
not fit for planting

…..

(#260)

mackerel scale clouds
and silver shark fin moon
eventide rolls in

…..

(#261)

cool moist predawn air
condensation in my heart
stillness in my soul

…..

(#262)

evening rain
I break bread alone
in the dim stillness

…..

(#263)

memory garden
I hoe every living thing
just to kill the weeds

…..

(#264)

summer zephyrs sail
the green grain ocean
wheat waves

“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

“January’s Scion”

On By Mike U.In Poetry26 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