Tag: sorrow

“In Time to Come” (reprise)

On By Mike U.In Poetry28 Comments

(originally posted on 10/4/2021)

“In Time to Come”
(c) 2017 by Michael L. Utley

She had that look about her again
Eyes like chips of coruscating amber
Caught in the westering sun
Her over-there gaze snagged
On some distant memory
Like thorn-caught thread
Hands prim and pale
In her denim lap
Amid foxtails and dandelions
And oak shadows

Things move too fast
When they move too slowly
The heat that summer was unbearable
A bludgeon wielded by a chrome sky
Its merciless swath pounding
Everyone everything into submission
We were not spared

I could reach toward her forever
And never touch her
I’ll tell you in time to come, she’d say
Her tired smile dying before
It reached her eyes
Time to come never coming
Never time enough
Time running out

Let’s sit and enjoy the shade, she’d say
The sun slipping languidly
Into oblivion
Her face haloed
In a warm orange aura
My ephemeral love
Ensconced in flames
Flickering
Flickering

Broken pieces of her
Litter the oak-shadowed grass
One touch and she’d shatter
One embrace and she’d be
All over the place
Delicate balance was
The ruse of muses who
Knew nothing of reality
Who knew nothing of
Love and sickness
And the terrible nectar
Of the tainted honeysuckle

Even the birds are quiet

There is no darkness
As black as love
No pit as plumbless
As that filled with regret
Her brown eyes
Smiling and weeping at once
Succumbing to demons
Unknown to me
So much of her slate blank
Her portrait only half-finished
Before the paint dried out
And the canvas rent asunder

Broken pieces of her
Litter the oak-shadowed grass
I used to collect them
Their razor edges
Slicing my hands bloody
Only a few remain
Among the foxtails and dandelions
Her voice only an echo now
I’ll tell you in time to come

“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

“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

“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

“The Farm” (reprise)

On By Mike U.In Poetry44 Comments

(originally posted 10/3/2021)

“The Farm’
© 2021 by Michael L. Utley

Nighthawks scream
With evening’s descent
They know the truth
Black god’s-eyes
See everything
From salmon-hued
Heaven
As wings fold
Bird-bombs dive
Preying on the
Prayerless
Powerless
Oblivious
Strident-throated
Shrieks
A mindless alien-avian
Warning
Turn back
There is no hope here

Across the fallow field
Elk bugle mournfully in
Twilight cacophony
A hundred dim smudges
Herding in
Paranoid precision
Against the dusty dun of
Evening’s solemn soliloquy
Scatter
Coagulate
Statue-still
Amidst dusk ground-mist
Trumpet-cries betray blind fear
A prose of unearthly moans
As pinyon-sage-scented breeze
Lifts this omen skyward
Turn back
There is no hope here

Dead-yellow fox tails
And cheatgrass
Bend
Break
As I pass
A sickly meadow of
Thin-boned weeds
And cloying sage
Crackling underfoot as
Stickers pin-cushion
Socks and shoelaces
Ground beetles
And spiders flee
Stupidly
Languidly
Dissolve into
Cracked earth
Disappear
Each footstep
Dust-choke-inducing
The shrill trill of crickets
Distant
Distracted
Dispassionate
They know, too
Turn back, they sing
There is no hope here

A skeleton crew of
Haggard, stunted trees
Stands sentinel
Against the coming darkness
Pinyons felled by
Insidious Ips beetles
Squat
Naked
Bony
Sap-dried cones
Long dead
Among carpets of
Desiccated yellowed needles and
Sparrow-emptied pine nut shells
Tinder awaiting a wildfire
Fragrant junipers stand
Amidst dead-berry piles in
Shaggy bark-suits
Peeling like scorched dusty
Sun-burnt skin
Swarming with black ants
Pungent piss-scent
Overwhelming as
Paper-bark crawls
In the shadows
The subliminal hiss of an
Errant breeze
Wheezes dark portents
Among barkless boughs
Turn back
There is no hope here

Muffled yips and
Strangled howls
Ride chilly currents from
Far obscure fields
As coyotes practice
Weird secret sorcery
In the gloaming
The cries of the damned
Of pain
Of madness
Of red-eyed tricksters
In shadow-garb
Preparing for midnight hunts
And the tearing of flesh
Yellow grins reeking of
Fear and dead meat
Champ and drool as
Festivities draw near
Their primal chaos-chorus
Announcing to all
Turn back
There is no hope here

In hushed
Sepulchral silence
Muted coos of
Mourning doves
Float softly in
Penitential pleas
Stillness magnifying
Lilting lamentation
Grief too much to bear
Their sorrow-song
An ache that
Never ends
Unmendable
Rends hearts
Cleaves souls
Tears flow
Unknowingly
Purity and
Sadness
Immeasurable loss
A calming balm
Inadequate to heal
All that ails
Ineffectual against
Forces of fear
Reduced to a
Whispered admonition
Turn back
There is no hope here

The broken garden gate
Aslant on rusted hinges
Unleveling the horizon
Of faded, ephemeral corn stalks
And rotting squash-husks
A tangle of ancient weeds
And briar bushes
Encases this bleak place
Age-drained of all
Color and scent
Poisonous soil
Long since emptied of life
Only dead things grow here
Rows of sorrow
Trellises of despair
A forlorn bounty of
Loss and regret
A stilled silence
Proclaiming
Turn back
There is no hope here

The house
A gray thing
Hunched against
The gloom of
Bruise-tinted sky
Like some
Feral beast
Skull-socket eyes
Peer
Blackly
Blindly
Balefully
Through diseased elms
As cement tongue lolls
Cracked and pitted
From front door
To yard gate
Lawn only a distant memory
Weed-choked
Littered with
Shattered window glass
And random roof shingles

Silence

Stillness

It’s been years
Since I was here
Since I fled
Since that day
The monster was real then
The fear was real
And it’s been with me
All the while

Concrete dust crunches
Bone-like underfoot
I reach the front door
Push through a
Latticework of spider-silk
Filled with memories
So many memories
Dust and the scent of
Ancient mildew
Rotting wood
Hang in mote-filled air
It’s smaller now
Empty
Hollow
Ceiling plaster
Coats rotting carpet
In a patina of snow
Water-stained drywall
Bent and bulging
My room is there
Dark and cobwebby
Kitchen
Sisters’ bedroom
Parents’ room
Bathroom
Everything accounted for
Except the monster

There is no hope here
Dead monsters leave
Memory echoes
Down the years
A legacy of pain and fear
And while there is
No monster here
Neither is there reason
For rejoicing
This place is dead
Just like my father
The monster
Nothing will ever be
As it was
So much lost
Still more buried in
Dark locked crates
In my mind
I look around
One final time
Then make my way
Out the door
And into the night

It’s time to leave
The farm behind

“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

“A Few Haiku & Senryu (57)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry69 Comments

(c) 2023 by Michael L. Utley

(#337)

childhood’s end at seven
I’ve been nothing but a ghost
since then

…..

(#338)

hypervigilance
through dark watches of the night
a young boy’s burden

…..

(#339)

all these long years
the monster dead and gone
yet the fear remains

…..

(#340)

thunder and brimstone
the profane currency
of childhood

…..

(#341)

in the end
he felt no remorse at all
my father’s death

…..

(#342)

how to feel again
when all I’ve ever known is fear
how to live again

“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.)

“A Few Haiku (55)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry80 Comments

(c) 2023 by Michael L. Utley

(#325)

to write is to breathe
and I am suffocating
in silence

…..

(#326)

speak again of joy
and the warmth of summer days
your lies are comforting

…..

(#327)

pond ice
stretched thin as hope
and equally deceptive

…..

(#328)

some write of joy
I write of experience
would they were the same

…..

(#329)

pardon my sorrow
and forgive my weeping soul
a poet’s lament

…..

(#330)

hope comes and goes
and lasts for but a season
winter snow