“Hana no Niwa (Garden of Flowers)”

“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 (15)”

(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

(#85)

Fruit rots on the ground
In unattended orchard
Our love slowly dies

…..

(#86)

I plant hopes and dreams
In the fertile soil but I
Still must pray for rain

…..

(#87)

Sly kitsune slinks
Among magenta kiku
Shrewd white-tip-tailed imp

…..

(#88)

Thirsty tamarisk
In its drunken reveling
Drains oasis dry

…..

(#89)

Let the bitter plum
Remind you to cherish the
Sweetness of the pear

…..

(#90)

Those old stars above
Whisper of antiquity
And enduring hope

“A Few Haiku (14)”

(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

(#79)

Under darkened skies
Of depression even my
Shadow flees from me

…..

(#80)

Light devoid of warmth
Casts the moon as villainous
Skulking through the trees

…..

(#81)

Myths of ancient days
Etched in runes on ruined wood
Worm trails on old trees

…..

(#82)

Those cicadas know
What lies ahead is better
Than what’s left behind

…..

(#83)

Desiccated husks
Of bad memories remain
Rattle restlessly

…..

(#84)

Memories of lilac
Wild rose and hollyhock
Melancholy prose

“A Few Haiku (13)”

(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

(#73)

Those who lost their way
In Aokigahara
Must be remembered

…..

(#74)

In the sea of trees
Koto and shamisen play
Sorrowful dirges

…..

(#75)

When the mist is thick
I can’t see the whip-poor-wills
Calling out to me

…..

(#76)

The cold moon sails on
A black sea of bitter stars
Wake of cosmic tears

…..

(#77)

Early morning mist
In the green konara copse
Forest holds its breath

…..

(#78)

Autumn has no shame
Strips away the world’s facade
Exposes our sins

“A Tanka Trio (8)”

(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

(#22)

Propaganda, lies
And conspiracy theories
Are killing people
Your rights end where mine begin
Wear a mask and vaccinate

…..

(#23)

Lone bristlecone pine
Bears the scars of lightning strikes
But has not succumbed
Wise old man on mountainside
Wizened by millennia

…..

(#24)

Will the earth miss us
After we have killed ourselves
Earth will carry on
Healing slowly over time
Once human virus is purged

“A Few Haiku (12)”

(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

(#67)

Regret stills haunts me
Even though my heart tells me
I did all I could

…..

(#68)

When I am in need
God responds to all my prayers
“Return to sender”

…..

(#69)

The days come and go
But sometimes inside my heart
The night never leaves

…..

(#70)

Summer sun has gone
That impostor in the sky
Only leaves me cold

…..

(#71)

Autumn’s thievery
Has left more than trees barren
Summer leaves no heir

…..

(#72)

Seasons’ edges blurred
Snow on flowers, freezing rain
I seek clarity

“A Few Haiku (11)”

(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

(#61)

Earth, sea and sky have
Tales to tell; be patient
For they speak slowly

…..

(#62)

I attain wisdom
Not from church or pagoda
But from woods and streams

…..

(#63)

When winter wind blows
All pretense is torn away
Bares my soul to all

…..

(#64)

Whispering sea shell
Tells of life I could have had
If I’d dared to live

…..

(#65)

This overgrown path
Filled with rocks and thorns cannot
Lead me home again

…..

(#66)

bitter early snow
I don’t recognize this world
anymore

“A Few Haiku (10)”

(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

(#55)

Caught like wounded prey
In sharp fangs of granite crags
Dusk sun spills its blood

…..

(#56)

Those coins that fall through
Gaps in floorboards forgotten
Like old memories

…..

(#57)

My heart recalls you
Like my broken bleeding thumb
Recalls the hammer

…..

(#58)

Do my deafened ears
Make me any less human
I hear with my heart

…..

(#59)

Scarlet gilia
Weep sweet tears in sage meadow
After thunderstorm

…..

(#60)

On my back porch step
There’s so much to think about
And so little time

“The Barn”

“The Barn”
© 2013 by Michael L. Utley

On weed-strewn verge of fallow field
The barn still stands, a silent revenant
Of ages past, a mournful sentiment
Amid the dying elms concealed

Its boards the hue of ancient bones
The wind has long since scoured paint away
As season after season rendered gray
Once brilliant lively crimson tones

Dead teasel husks caress its skin
A memory of lilac, wild rose
And hollyhock a melancholy prose
No longer whispered in the din

Of bitter zephyrs in the loft
That magnify each sorrow-laden groan
Each pensive sigh and every hopeless moan
Of dreams denied and yearnings scoffed

On cupola atop the roof
The antiquated weather vane points north
In rusted rictus, ever drawing forth
That demon wind on cloven hoof

Inside, the haymow lost to time
Illusory, a phantom from the past
Whose gilded straws have disappeared at last
An unseen grotesque paradigm

The ladder to the loft on high
Clings stubbornly amid the swirling motes
That dance in hellish pace to eldritch notes
The song of death, fey herald’s cry

And from the loft extends the beam
That transits barn so high above wood floor
Above the stack of hay that is no more
And from this, like some ghastly dream

There hangs a rope no longer there
Recast ephemeral by passing years
Whose insubstantial form allays no fears
Whose memory I’m doomed to bear

All silence now, sere winter’s grasp
Has stilled the air, the motes drift in the night
In moonbeams pale, and from the rope drawn tight
About my neck, my dying gasp

Lilts softly in the midnight frost
As it has done each night for years gone by
Eternal recompense to rectify
All that I’ve done, all that I’ve lost

(Author’s note: I debated whether to post this piece for quite a while. Some of the imagery could be considered disturbing, particularly in the last two stanzas. I used the narrator’s suicide as a metaphor for guilt, shame and loss and how those emotions can haunt us for a lifetime. I considered inserting a trigger warning at the beginning and spent several days researching studies and opinions on such tactics, with the results varying widely and no real general consensus met on how to handle sensitive or disturbing material. In the end, I decided against a trigger warning for several reasons, and chose to add this note instead.

If you or someone you know is suicidal, please talk to a healthcare professional, call your local area suicide hot-line or discuss it with a friend or family member. Above all, know you’re not alone. There is help available to get you through this difficult time.)

“A Few Haiku (9)”

(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

(#49)

The silent garden
My mother’s memories
Germinate

…..

(#50)

There is never joy
In the dark night of the soul
I embrace the dawn

…..

(#51)

I still hear the sound
Of breezes in bamboo groves
When I think of you

…..

(#52)

Some days all I need
Is to watch the spotted cat
Chasing butterflies

…..

(#53)

It is my hope when
Kiku bloom in time to come
You’ll remember me

…..

(#54)

My old hoe is dull
And the weeds resist its blade
Still I toil on