(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley
(#121)
old rain barrel
dark waters of
forgotten dreams
…..
(#122)
first snow
white kiku on
autumn’s casket
…..
(#123)
stone cairns
mark my future; stone heart
marks my past
…..
(#124)
no more songbirds
nest in my heart
your voice fades
…..
(#125)
old mountain’s silence
questions answered
as I climb the path
…..
(#126)
rain turns to hail
my heart takes a pounding
from my tears
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley
(#115)
where once was laughter
now only bones
the burned forest
…..
(#116)
does the mantis pray
for long life and happiness
it receives neither
…..
(#117)
some live some die
I plant the seeds
anyway
…..
(#118)
slender-fingered hands
reach through trees, caress my face
the rising moon
…..
(#119)
heron on the bridge
watches incuriously
as my tears fall
…..
(#120)
as a boy I knew
the sun; as a man I can’t
recognize his face
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley
(#91)
How can hope survive
Solitary kitchen chair
And the empty bed
…..
(#92)
These old feet are numb
Memories are bitter cold
I must watch my step
…..
(#93)
I sought from the fox
Wisdom; he gave me instead
A flash of his tail
…..
(#94)
Breeze in bamboo grove
Sake choko clattering
Empty memories
…..
(#95)
Who has spilled the sky
Into the pond? Sunset fire
Burns lotus blossoms
…..
(#96)
Once, in the forest
Autumn taught me of sorrow
What will winter bring
(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
(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
“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
“Fade”
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley
Dusk has fallen as
Stars scream heavenward and doves
Murmur mournfully
Evening-song has come and I
Cannot hear day’s parting cry
Night blooms above as
Insects whisper mysteries
And wolves share solemn
Oaths on phantom breeze and I
Cannot hear dark’s somber sigh
Dawn symphony births
Strident morning melody
As birds wake the sun
And earth speaks to me and I
Cannot hear the singing sky
I have lost so much
My earth my sky autumn odes
Winter dirges spring
Soliloquies summer chants
Fading in silent echoes
And I
Cannot bear to hear them die
“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
“It’s Much Too Late”
(c) 2017 by Michael L. Utley
Autumn rain
Cannot slake
Summer’s thirst
It’s much too late
For yellowed grass
And barren field
Leaves which fall unseen
Litter ground in mounds
Scarlet memories
It’s much too late
For mountain leas
Devoid of hue
Flowers fade
Petals drift
On chill wind
It’s much too late
For drought-cracked earth
And bitter weeds
Which cling to parched dirt
Brittle claws succumb
Snap like frail bones
It’s much too late
This autumn rain
Which rills the ground
Sweeps away
All that’s left
Of summer
It’s much too late
To heal the wounds
Of all that’s lost
All that’s left behind
All that’s left of life
All that’s left of me
It’s much too late
“Ripples”
(c) 2017 by Michael L. Utley
There are no ripples
On this frozen pond
The puk-puk-puk of
The pebble
Skittering on iced skin
Dampened by
Frost-thick air
Breath caught short
In lung-numbed gasps
Silent words
Suspended
In wintry sighs
Eyes pools of
Frigid tear-prisms
Bitter empty gelid rainbows
Where are you
You missed our flight to Tokyo
The cherry blossoms whispered your name
As Fuji, incurious and remote
Gazed white-helmed
At my solitary shadow
My empty hand
Holding more of you
Than my heart could bear
We did not walk
Beneath flicker-flamed
Paper lanterns
On blood-red bridges
Spanning koi ponds
Under the spring moon
The rising sun
Sought to kiss your cheek
But was denied
As I was denied
You missed auroras
Over Iceland
The Arctic colder
In your absence
The night sky draped
In shimmering iridescent
Thought
The emerald musings of some distant god
Snagged in dark desolation
My own thoughts of you
Caught in my own
Desolation
You missed the candent sands
Of Morocco
Capricious zephyrs
Erasing my footprints
In a desert bereft of
Your footprints
We did not dance
In the summer swelter
Beneath date palms
And stars that sought
To light your way
But failed
Your body absent
In my arms
The scent of your hair
A distant memory which
Hot breezes scatter
In the night
You missed our train
To the Rockies
Where larkspur and columbine
Awaited you with open arms
And later mourned in silence
My singular form without you
By my side
We did not hold hands in
Flower-burst mountain meadows
Azure lakes reflected only
My lone countenance
As conifers murmured
Demurely in cool breezes
Wondering if you
Would ever arrive
You missed our drive
Through New England hills
Autumn maple and hemlock
A conflagration burning for you
Yearning for you
The birches and beeches smoldering
In my heart
Red-orange-gold leaves
Suiciding in silent sadness
Loneliness wearing my face
Stalks these woods
You are nowhere to be found
You missed my arrival
In Singapore
The airport a swarm
Of faces
A blur of oceanic humanity
As I searched for one safe harbor
One stormless island
In this storm of chaos
Your face
A lighthouse to guide me home
Your beacon never appearing
No fog horn guiding me safely
Through treacherous surf
Your bottomless brown eyes
Nowhere
Your smile cut roughly from this mural
Missing
A ragged hole where you should be
In my life
Perhaps you were a
Phantom
All along
Puk-puk-puk
No ripples on this frozen pond
Not enough pebbles remain
To last until springtime thaw
One ripple is all I ask
One ripple to finally reach you
I’ll save a pebble
Just in case
Silent Pariah 