Tag: writing

this too will melt

last night I saw a documentary
about an ice sculptor from far up north,
a nondescript fellow that created art
from that which is too cold
to be held on to for too long.[…]

this too will melt

last night I saw a documentary
about an ice sculptor from far up north,  
a nondescript fellow that created art
from that which is too cold 
to be held on to for too long.

for years before and, surely, for years to follow,
he carved out what he saw with closed eyes
and open ideas, he etched out what
he felt with a searching heart,
...all from cold's jealous grip. 

on this particular day,

he created a dragon
that burst from the ice -
ready to challenge the hero of the story,

he created a sword,
to pull from an azure stone -
ready to give strength to the willful,

and 

he created a rose,
with all the wrinkles of a rich life -
ready to reward the resilient.

he would spend all day
creating these unique totems,
then he would abandon them outside
and go off to bed, bone tired,
knowing well that tomorrow they will melt,
they will fade away, nearly towards never,
...and that all of this only adds to their value...


they say his sleep is worth millions.
he refuses to put a price on it. 

-M. L. Michael-
-2.18.14-

About…

Some kind of telepathy

i want you to ‘close’ your eyes and think:
no matter when/&/wherever you are right now – here i am,
right here writing of You.

so- think of me sitting outside; my journal and pen in lap,
breezily surfing along these azure thoughts
of the You that transcends my time and space. […]

Some Kind of Telepathy


i want you to ‘close’ your eyes and think:
 no matter when/&/wherever you are right now – here i am,
 right here writing of You.

so- think of me sitting outside; my journal and pen in lap,
 breezily surfing along these azure thoughts 
 of the You that transcends my time and space.

  (my musings about You: where are you when you read this;
  how much more wondrous have you become?)

and i want You to realize, that this poem is us connecting,
 across the spans of any when/&/wherever,
 and no matter when/&/wherever that will be,
 i’m forever right here, writing of Thee.

11/30/08
M. L. Michael

About…

Admit one

writing is the ticket to
my salvation.
pen and paper are friends
carryin’ me up-up-an’-away,
beyond mountains, thru clouds
until my head is dizzy, whirring,
fuzzy with goodness-fulfilling-soul.[…]

Admit One

writing is the ticket to
my salvation.
pen and paper are friends
carryin’ me up-up-an’-away,
beyond mountains, thru clouds
until my head is dizzy, whirring,
fuzzy with goodness-fulfilling-soul.

by spinning this irresistible yarn
I steal the spotlight [back]
from all that iron rod pain and pollution,
and turn upon fertile soil vast in my mind
where fruit grows from gnarled roots of
sweet-bittersweet-rotten memories
mixing together to create the most
soul-fulfilling-goodness

writing is the ticket to my salvation
what is yours?

M. L. Michael 
09-26-05

About…

Veil

I’m sitting here
portishead weaving between my ears
My mind is searching
Going through the fog of my thoughts
Seeking some semblance of stability
Like fingers through smoke
My search leaves only vague trails
Soon dissipating into sheer nothing[…]

I’m sitting here
portishead weaving between my ears
My mind is searching
Going through the fog of my thoughts
Seeking some semblance of stability
Like fingers through smoke
My search leaves only vague trails
Soon dissipating into sheer nothing

I’m thinking
There must be more beyond the hill
Outside the hopeful view
I’m thinking
I’m really scared

What purpose do I serve?
God rescues yet leaves the phone ringing
Dare I pursue a life slave to the pen
Or is my life destined for the help of others
Questions find me
Answers elude me
While the owl keeps asking the same damn question

Poetic form not much of a better veil
Than my free verse to my kinship
Yet I find more comfort
Hiding beyond these metaphorical words
That so blatantly reveal my true intentions

So becomes the constant struggle
To stay afloat
In this tar pit I call my existence

M. L. Michael
08·25·01