Wednesday, November 08, 2017

Sing of Creation

Find your joy in the work of the makers,
The creators of wonder and beauty.
Whose genesis is life for the takers;
Whose lives harbor little but duty.
Find your peace in the thundering sunlight,
Of the warm, wondrous glow of the dawning.
Soft, dispelling the darkness of midnight,
With the bright, urgent promise of morning.
Find your hope in the song of the living,
Their sweet harmonies touching your spirit,
With bright melodies sung about giving,
Sing so loudly the whole world will hear it!
Let hope sing the music of elation.
Let peace bring the magic of creation.

Mick McKellar
November 2017

It’s time to sing for the makers.

Wednesday, September 06, 2017

Night Pane

Glanced at a nighttime window pane,
Expecting only black.
I looked, and startled, looked again:
Someone was looking back!

He looked so rumpled and distressed,
A shifty midnight toad;
He must have stumbled, badly dressed,
Up from the open road.

His clothes looked like he dressed for bed,
All shapeless, loose, and marred;
But went out for a walk instead,
And crept into my yard.

His face was haggard, wrinkled, pale,
His eyes were open wide;
As if he had escaped from jail,
And should have stayed inside.

His hair twas thin as wispy mist,
His teeth were mostly gone.
His ears looked as if someone missed
Their mark, when gluing on.

His cheeks had plenty of stubble,
As if he had not shaved.
He looked as though he'd be trouble,
In fact, he looked depraved!

In but a single, quick heartbeat,
I judged him savagely.
Then recognized the old deadbeat:
A reflection of me.

Mick McKellar
September 2017

As I get older, and mirrors
Become less and less kind,
Snap judgments become fewer
As I am not inclined...


Sunday, August 27, 2017

Whimsies and Wonders

I want to dream about whimsies and wonders,
And children playing in the sun.
I want to laugh about pets and family,
And things they’ve said and sung and done.
I want to cry happy tears for all to see,
And dance and sing and just be me!

I want to wake at dawn and know I’m happy,
And jump from bed to start my day.
I want to race down to hug ev’rybody
And smile a great smile all the way.
I want my door to lead to a world at peace,
With joy and love from sea to sea!

I want to live in a country, where freedom
Lets you be you and me be me!

Mick McKellar
August 2017

I was just about asleep last night, when a poetry fit hit. I was thinking about what I want to be happy -- so I could dream about it. Funny how that happens…


Friday, August 25, 2017

Rude Awakening

I saw the puddle shimmering faintly,
Blocking the sidewalk where I'd planned to tread.
As I walked through, I plunged down instantly,
And felt the water close above my head.
When mightily, I struggled up for air,
I felt strong hands take hold of both my feet,
And pull me into darkness and despair,
To guarantee the end I knew I'd meet.
Then distantly, I heard alarm bells ring -
They seemed to say it's time to leave this place.
I thought I saw a giant furry thing,
Deploy a bright red sponge to slap my face!
The family dog was standing on my head,
I pushed away, and fell out of my bed.

Mick McKellar
August 2017

I'm not certain that reality bites, but it can slobber.


Thursday, August 10, 2017

Shattered Rays

I’d dreamt of the skip-dance of souls in flight,
At speed of thought, exuberance flying.
Too energetic to pause, or alight;
Perpetual light ballet undying.
Once, my inner fire, burning blinding bright,
Tried to leave my body, stone-cold behind;
But I captured, in a spasm of fright,
The brilliant breath of my passionate mind.
Shattered rays leaked through my fingers held tight:
Tense digits drawn taught lest my spirit flee.
I huddled down low, to surround the light,
Fearful I might lose the essence of me.
I barely held on through dread and God’s will...
My spirit glows brightly within me still.

Mick McKellar
August 2017

Not all near-death experiences are similar. What if your soul simply wanted to leave, and somehow you managed to capture and keep it safely within you? At once, the image is amazing and scary and heartbreaking.


Thursday, August 03, 2017

The World I See

When first I felt that I might die,
Then changed my view of all I see.
I held my breath and tried to cry,
But sadness just eluded me.

I saw my world as must a child;
I quailed at its electric touch.
The peace and joy of running wild,
Called to my heart so very much.

I'd never set my spirit free,
To roam abroad among my kin
And kith, who shared this Earth with me --
Yet never felt the planet spin!

My world, so bright with life it glowed,
Made each short day a wondrous sight;
And kindness shone, as it bestowed
A brilliance to defeat the night.

And love, the liquid light supreme,
That ought to inundate the Earth,
Still flowed, but in a tiny stream,
And many suffered from its dearth.

With clarity, I then perceived
That none there with me felt the change;
And none would ever have believed,
Or shared my sudden vision strange.

I've kept my counsel until now,
Unto myself and never shared,
Or dared describe it all somehow,
To those so closed and unprepared.

Though muted, I still see the light,
Still feel the warmth, still share the peace.
I dream about it ev'ry night,
And pray that it will never cease.

Mick McKellar
August 2017

When you think you might be leaving this world, it looks, sounds, and feels very different to you. There is no time for hate and fear, no time to spread darkness, when you are celebrating life.


Dark Icons, Holy Relics

They're preconceived, they're precious, and held dear.
By holding fast, I limit what I share.
I bury them, to hide them in my fear
Of losing what I treasure, what I bear.
Unlike most precious stones and golden rings,
That I acquire by purchase or by gift,
I helped create my trove of sacred things,
And keep them to myself in silent thrift.
Sometimes they draw, and sometimes they repel,
Their dark allure is murder to resist.
I fear I can't convince my mind to dwell,
Outside the pale of my most sacred list.
The myths and prejudices deep in there,
Are arrant holy relics in my care.

Mick McKellar
August 2017

How often we talk of prejudices and preferences as though they are easily removed, adjusted, and reinstalled at will. Many are so well hidden we cannot see them, and so well integrated we rarely, barely resist their allure, their brutal force. Little wonder that when challenged, our first thought is to defend them to the last. True now, as it was in May 2003.