Ages I Have Been

Before the fall...

Ages I Have Been

I feel it all, when I recall
The details, where and when;
The rise and fall, the short and tall,
Of ages I have been.

It's strange, but true, that my world view,
Began down near the floor.
As children do, I upward grew,
And waited to see more.

Until a night of pain and fright,
Brought knowledge, dark and fey;
When painful plight brought raw insight,
And childhood fled away.

Through youngling years, whose loves and fears,
Left me nowhere to hide,
I lived, sans tears, among my peers,
An old man trapped inside.

I strove, meanwhile, an old man's smile,
To hide beneath veneers.
Mile after mile, the long trial,
Filled intervening years.

Now deep within, the verdict's in:
I cannot disavow
Without chagrin, I've always been,
The age that I am now.

Mick McKellar
November 2013

Many years ago, I asked my mother if I was a serious child. "Serious?" she said, "You were positively grim. You were born an old man." She was almost right. It required a terrible accident at age 1 1/2 years to turn a teeny toddler into a tiny gaffer. Suddenly upgraded from naiveté to reality, I became the grim nipper. Guess I haven't changed, much...

Mick

The great thing about getting older is that you don't lose all the other ages you've been.
-Madeleine L'Engle, writer (1918-2007)

Sub Rosa

Sub Rosa

The advent of instant social networks,
Foreshadows slow death for privacy;
When miscreants, even ignorant jerks,
Gain intimate knowledge of you and me.
In wrong hands, my online profile becomes
A grave weapon of perilous power,
To stretch my identity till it thrums:
Screaming chain on a sudden-dropped bower.
In my search for simple ways to prevent,
Being part of online curiosa,
I find that false trails might best circumvent
Scrutiny -- leave the real me -- sub rosa.
"Think you know me?" becomes my battle cry,
"When I fill in your forms, I might just lie!"

Mick McKellar
November 2013


Online, it seems everyone wants a piece of me: my full name, my address, my phone number, my e-mail address, my age, etc. Want to read an article? Complete the registration form, sign in, and let our cookies track you! Although I would never advocate lying as a policy, in my early years as a writer online, I discovered the value of maintaining various noms de plume. Mick McKellar, E. McKellar, Jr., Maudit Cybercurmudgeon, and The Midnight Poet, helped Elwin McKellar keep personal and professional life separate.

Mick

Taste of Ashes

Taste of Ashes

My life's one long emergency,
Rushed to hospitals and clinics.
I crash and burn repeatedly,
But rise again like Phoenix.

Although I leave something behind,
In each of these fiery crashes:
A bit of heart, of soul, of mind,
I retain the taste of ashes.

And though I like my steaks well-done;
Cooked at leisure, eaten in haste;
I take no pleasure, have no fun,
Enduring that faux-charnal taste.

To cleanse my palate of that mess,
I find that I simply must go
Savor the flavor of success,
And devour my life with gusto!

Mick McKellar
November, 2013

As day 998 since my blood and marrow stem cell transplant dawned, I reflected on my long list of emergencies and flirtations with the hereafter. Each time I relapse (or collapse), and claw my way back to what passes for normalcy in my fragmented life, I am left with a bad taste in my mind — a bitterness that lingers until I remember the simply joy of waking up each morning — until I remember to savor life.

Mick