Tag: nature

Blogs I Like (and You Might, Too)–4/16/2024

On By Mike U.In Featured Blogs46 Comments

This ongoing initiative showcases blogs with fewer than 500 subscribers which I think are deserving of more attention. Hopefully these blogs will spark your interest and you’ll check them out. It’s my way of spreading awareness of talented writers whose work I admire.

This week’s featured blog is Ashley’s A Different View. I first met Ashley in November 2021 when he and I were both invited to take part in a discussion titled “Exploring Basho’s Moon,” an examination of one of Basho’s famous haiku, hosted by Mark Scott’s Season Words blog. I found Ashley to be the kindest fellow imaginable, and his delicate skill regarding the writing of traditional haiku was astounding. Since then, I’ve come to consider Ashley a good friend of mine, someone whose love of nature and poetic ability create a sense of peace and serenity. Ashley speaks my language, you could say, and his blog is a calm harbor of natural beauty and exemplary writing.

I asked Ashely if he’d like to provide a little background about himself and his blog. I’ll let his own words do the talking:

  • I’m 74 years old and married to Carol for 52 years although we were courting about 5 years before that so we’ve been together for at least 57 years
  • whilst Carol has had so much illness in her life (cancer x 4 + heart problems) SHE is still my rock
  • I’m a great grandfather
  • I was born in the city of Armagh in Northern Ireland to northern English parents
  • Armagh was the ancient capital of Christian Ireland & whilst no longer a practicing Christian, the sound of cathedral bells is in my heart (see John Betjeman: Summoned By Bells)
  • left home at 21 to live & work in London, UK.  Work location then was close to the River Thames & that river flows within me still
  • 30 years spent living & working in England in the clothing industry: after redundancy, aged 45, worked in various jobs (transport, retail, health service) now retired
  • returned to NI some years ago
  • did voluntary work with the Woodland Trust (30+ years).  LOVE trees, obsessed by them
  • through WordPress discovered haiku & writing in season
  • have always wanted to write & illustrate
  • lower back problems meant that I restarted my life, exercising daily, a mixture of physio exercises & Qi Gong
  • I have only ever travelled outside the UK about 3 or 4 times but follow blogs all around the world.  With tools like Google Translate I am amazed how many different cultures & languages I am able to connect with
  • I love the simplicity of seasonal haiku

I would be remiss were I not to mention that one thing I find intriguing about Ashley’s blog is that I have some Irish ancestry, and the Emerald Isle is a land I’ve always wanted to explore. I’m able to do that vicariously through Ashley’s writing and photography. Ashley’s essays take us on strolls through the Irish countryside among wild flowers and the trees he loves so dearly, and his haiku–distilled to their very essence–paint glorious pictures of the natural world. For an example of what A Different View offers, here’s a post Ashley chose to share:

“Occasional Furniture (1)”

In a nutshell, if you love nature, if you appreciate fine Japanese short-form poetry, if you’ve ever felt the desire to travel to Ireland, Ashley’s A Different View has it all. I hope you’ll visit Ashley’s blog and walk along with him among the trees.

Let’s spread the love and support our fellow bloggers.

“Still I Toil On”

On By Mike U.In Poetry51 Comments

“Still I Toil On”
(c) 2024 by Michael L. Utley

my old hoe is dull
and the weeds
resist its blade
still I toil on
iron sharpens iron
rust begets rust
the crucible of life
makes or breaks
which shall I choose
do I even have a choice

my garden’s neglect
pains my soul
its hardened soil
thirsts for more
than rain
too many weeds
too few blooms
a loathsome facsimile
of the worst of me

these hands
cracked and dirty
beset by age
and the scars
of a futile life
once strong enough
to break the earth
shatter stone
yet tender still
to caress the lotus
dry the tears
of my beloved
these calloused hands
empty now
save for the
piercing splinters
and burning blisters
of stillborn harvests
and sundered dreams

once, long ago
across the stream
my young man’s eyes
beheld the youthful willow
nubile and lithesome
her slender feet
glissading upon
the cool water
sinuous fronds
breeze-blown
her sultry-shy gaze
beckoning me
offering respite
from noonday sun
and I watched from afar
as egret and kitsune
nestled in her shadows
and I yearned for her
but my garden
needed tilling
my hoe dull even then
my back bent
from years of struggle
my heart distracted
by worries of harvests
yet to be
and in my hesitation
she turned away
and all was lost

cicadas drone
in the bamboo grove
their maddening chorus
a condemnation
their brief lives
leave little time
for memories
but plenty
for judgment
their desiccated husks
reminding me
of life’s brevity
all I’ve lost
all I needlessly
carry with me

it has been too long
since the rains fell
too long since the wind
cooled my brow
too long since
my soul slept
too long have I
gripped this
infernal device
my entire existence
rooted in this
garden of regrets
I have become
the very weed
I wish to slay

still I toil on
for there is naught left
but to toil
until my blade breaks
or the harvester’s scythe
takes me away

“A Latticework of Tears”

On By Mike U.In Poetry56 Comments

“A Latticework of Tears”
(c) 2024 by Michael L. Utley

autumn rain has come
orb weaver’s sorrowful web
a latticework of tears
a trellis of weathered memories
in this mournful
forgotten meadow
abandoned
as dusk’s demise
renders moot
vestigial joy
and hope
gives up its ghost

your dreams, you say
what of your dreams
those airy flights of fancy
those rumblings of your soul
tinged the hue of
virginal sun rays
so bright as to
blind you to
the world’s apathy
and horror
so urgent and strident
as to stay your sleep
at night
so incendiary as to
ignite worlds
birth universes

I know of dreams
I know of death, too
the slow withering
of saplings whose
brittle stems
shall never
reach maturity
whose once
verdant leaflets
become piles of
yellow dross
that fade into
oblivion

I know the soul-crushing
pressure of expectations
the futility of failure
the exhaustion of anhedonia
I know the tainted love
of depression
a foul mistress
the bleak and hollow
echoes of loneliness
the roiling pit
of dread and uncertainty
for what lies ahead

dreams memories tears
an elegiac dirge
for a life lost
a life misspent
bereft of love and lenity
the godless howl
of the past
the gaping maw
of the future
I know these things

shattered pieces
of my dreams
litter this lea’s
desiccated grasses
I must tread with caution
lest I slice myself
bloody

let the weaver’s web
display my tears
as trophies of defeat
I have bled enough
let what’s left of me
fall to the earth
as autumn rain

“Stream Among the Reeds”

On By Mike U.In Poetry77 Comments

“Stream Among the Reeds”
(c) 2024 by Michael L. Utley

stream among the reeds
peeks at me through cattails
laughs and runs away
do you know you have my heart
do you, little one

I am but an old man now
nearing the clearing
in the woods where I will lie
among columbines
and verdant ferns to make peace

with the universe
every season has its end
every leaf must fall
Luna’s aspect silver-sheened
cycles heavenward

but you, my fair lithesome stream
whose silken skin glows
gilded ‘neath this summer’s eve
whose siren-song calls
forth the sweetest memories

from a lifetime’s font
of sorrow and bleak despair
whose ethereal
caress balms this broken soul
you, my little one

nurture and rejuvenate
keeping hope alive
koi kitsune dragonfly
tree and earth and sky
all accept your gracious gift

but what of you, friend
what recompense lies in store
for your kindly ways
koi glide somnolently in
slow shadowed currents

oblivious to your touch
wary kitsune
drink covertly, disappear
into bamboo groves
gone without a second thought

dragonflies alight
absent-minded and aloof
on reeds and never
acknowledge you smiling face
as you watch amused

do you ever wonder, friend
if anyone cares
does your joyful mien disguise
a heart bereft of
love, a loneliness so deep

it cripples you and
leaves you reeling as you wend
your way on life’s path
through wood and meadow and cleft
choking back your tears

I am not long for this world
but I’m here for you
my friend, let us sit and talk
and commune beneath
this willow upon your bank

let us share our souls
let our words pierce through the veil
that obscures our hearts
let us spend what time is left
in good company

years ago you smiled at me
peering through the reeds
and that’s made all the diff’rence
in the world to me
you’ve made all the difference to me

“A Few Haiku & Senryu (60)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry47 Comments

(c) 2023 by Michael L. Utley

(#355)

this sorrow
and so much left unsaid
November dusk

…..

(#356)

beyond my window
the cracks begin to show
this broken world

…..

(#357)

place my hardened heart
on the cairn of remembrance
the spoils of war

…..

(#358)

kitsunebi
lost souls seek solace
in a lost world

…..

(#359)

take my hand, November
it’s time someone showed you warmth
the hearth of hope

…..

(#360)

all these fallen leaves
and no one cares to mourn them
humanity’s disgrace

“For Harley” (reprise)

On By Mike U.In Poetry41 Comments

(originally posted on 10/27/2021)

“For Harley”
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

I wonder if he ever knew his ears
Had failed him as he nosed the gravel road
Collecting scents of all that passed that way
As afternoon slipped into eventide
And xanthous-tinted rabbit brush held sway

Amid god-beams

Gilded god-beams

His pup days had long passed as elder gray
Frosted his chin and whiskers, and his gait
Had slowed as tired legs had stiffened up
And aching joints reduced him to a mere
Shadow of his bold beagle days of yore

When he was young

When we were young

His eyes—those burnished chestnut orbs that danced
And glimmered in the magic-hour rays
Of summer eves—belied his years and shone
With feisty fiery passion and the ken
Of canny canine stratagems and grim

Intensity

Vehemently

As for his tail, there wasn’t much to say
Other than it epitomized the joy
Of reckless youth, that whip-snapping white-tipped
Apostrophe above his bobbing haunch
Forever oscillating to and fro

It wagged a lot

His ears were shot

I’d stand behind him, holler out his name
And he, oblivious to all, would move
Nary a muscle nor would bat an eye
But go about his business in his world
Of silent summer farm days as the birds

Sang quietly

Spoke thoughtfully

A touch upon his back would do the trick
And he’d glance o’er at me and grin as if
To say, “Oh, there you are! Now where’s my treat?”
And having been trained well by him I’d reach
Into my pocket for a doggo snack

And he would beam

His eyes would gleam

But mostly I recall our evening walks
As day-haze settled, rabbit brush aglow
And Harley, nose to road, would pad along
Intent on scrying hidden critter trails
In search of that elusive siren song

That rabbit scent

And there he went

A brown and white torpedo like a blur
Of milk and cookies, ears jet-streamed behind
His head, and beagle-baying, “Here I go!”
And through the sage and cheat grass he would fly
His white-tipped tail zig-zagging through the maze

Of summer days

Our summer days

And I would stand and watch this ritual
This vital, sacred rite that kindled life
And filled souls overflowing as my friend
Chased rabbits in the fading of the day
Braying echoing ‘cross halcyon fields

Amid god-beams

Gilded god-beams

“A Few Haiku & Senryu (59)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry45 Comments

(c) 2023 by Michael L. Utley

(#349)

thunderclaps
the sound of birth and death
bookends of nothingness

…..

(#350)

between earth and sky
there is only everything
in the emptiness

…..

(#351)

this frozen sky
tries so hard to snow but can’t
my winter heart

…..

(#352)

do not interrupt
the slow dreams of drowsing trees
fickle winter moon

…..

(#353)

pardon the mountain, dear moon
for his heart is stone
and his burden heavy

…..

(#354)

somewhere in this life
I’ll lose myself or find myself
a soul’s journey

“A Summer’s Field in Winter”

On By Mike U.In Poetry31 Comments

“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.)

“Autumn Leaf & Ferns”

On By Mike U.In Photography64 Comments
Autumn Leaf & Ferns, near Trout Lake, southwest Colorado (c) Mike Utley

I have a lot of images from Trout Lake in southwest Colorado, about an hour from where I live. Many of these images don’t feature the lake, such as this one of autumn ferns. The area is heavily forested, snuggled deep within the arms of several mountain peaks. In the summer, wild flowers explode in a profusion of color; in the fall, aspens glow a strident yellow that complements the deep greens of conifers and the cobalt blue sky.

On this autumn day in the late 1990s, my mom accompanied me. She enjoyed getting away from the farm whenever she could, and she loved nature drives and breathing fresh mountain air. We took the dirt road that circumscribes the lake and pulled over in a little clearing of ferns among tall pines and spruces. There were a few bright red amanita muscaria mushrooms still stubbornly clinging to life, and while my mom looked at these poisonous fungi (I’d warned her not to touch them), I set about photographing the ferns whose fronds had begun to turn yellow. On the ground nearby, a small leaf the color of arterial blood caught my eye, and I saw an opportunity to show my mom one of the standard composition guidelines of photography: the Rule of Thirds. Not quite a rule as much as a suggestion, the idea is to divide the frame into thirds both vertically and horizontally (like a tic tac toe grid). Placing the main subject on one of the places where these grid lines intersect—the power-points—generally results in a more pleasing image. As with any rule, there are plenty of exceptions. This rule is overused and can produce cliché images that lack depth and emotion, but sometimes the end result is indeed compelling.

I composed the image, placing the crimson leaf on a power-point and explained the theory as my mom looked through the viewfinder. When I got the slides back from the lab and showed her the resultant image on my lightbox, she could hardly contain her excitement. She adored this image and she felt as though she had played a part in its creation. And she was right: every time I look at this image, I’m reminded of her, just the two of us in the little clearing one autumn afternoon, experiencing nature and being glad to be alive. It may appear to be just another pretty picture, but it’s so much more than that. I was able to share my love for nature and photography with her that day, and part of her lives on in this image. (Canon gear, Fuji Velvia ISO 50)

“A Few Haiku & Senryu (56)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry64 Comments

(c) 2023 by Michael L. Utley

(#331)

dusty stew pot
her memory lingers by
the cold hearth

…..

(#332)

a tiny sun
in this cold dark hell
golden suisen

…..

(#333)

strings of koto
from beyond the bamboo grove
my heart breaks again

…..

(#334)

don’t look at me, moon
I’m not who you think I am
dark night of the soul

…..

(#335)

from my window
the mountain; from the mountain
eternity

…..

(#336)

green silence
and the end of all things
sea of trees

(Note: A bit of a title change for this series. I’ve been writing senryu almost as long as haiku and I figured it was time to clarify that these little collections contain both. Haiku pertain to nature and seasons, while senryu address the human condition. The formats are virtually identical; the subject matter differs.)