Stumbled

 

 

 

 

 

Stumbled

While walking with my nose up in the air,
I stubbed my toe against a rock so small,
By right it shouldn't even have been there —
I never should have stubbed my toe at all!
So, I decided that I had been harmed,
And therefore it was only right to sue.
I went to see a lawyer, fully armed
With that small rock, to see what he could do.
He placed the mini-boulder in a box.
He snapped some images of my left shoe.
I showed him where I stumbled in the rocks...
He smiled and said, "Sorry, I can't help you."
"Your driveway?" He asked, grinning like an elf.
"Unless," he said, "You want to sue yourself."

Mick McKellar
February 2014

We have more than 1.2 million lawyers in the U.S. How can we support so many lawyers? I wonder...

Mick

Different Eyes

 

 

 

 

 

Different Eyes

I now see the world with different eyes.
The eyes of old age, not the eyes of youth.
Although each window still smiles and still cries,
They now have the leisure to search for truth.
Not truth as in knowledge only God knows;
Not truth as in secrets only I see,
But the simple truth that reflection shows:
Maybe not to you, maybe just for me.
I see the beauty in every face.
I can hear a choir in every voice.
I see and hear life all over the place;
I sense possibilities in each choice.
Each hour, each minute is precious to me,
To sing the great anthem of what I see.

Mick McKellar
February 2014

I realized this morning, that I don't see the world as I did only a few short years ago. Maybe I've changed because I have come so close to leaving it, or maybe I am just getting older and I sense my time is growing shorter.

Mick

Beyond Reasons

 

 

 

Beyond Reasons

I can't give you a reason you should love me;
I can't give you a reason why I care.
I cannot say I see the future clearly,
But I promise you — I'll always be there.

I feel the warmth of love so deep inside you,
It's at your core and exceedingly rare.
I cannot prove that what I'm feeling is true,
But I promise you — I'll always be there.

You see my love and wonder at my reasons.
It seems impossible that I would dare
Commit to loving you through all our seasons,
But I promise you — I'll always be there.

I'll never need a reason just to love you;
I love enough for both, so we can share.
After I die, my love will surely come through,
And you'll still know that I'll always be there.

Mick McKellar
February 2014

Love lives beyond life, and endures beyond time. Love's promise lasts beyond reason and resists all efforts at empirical study. Love requires no proof and exists in the face of impossible odds. One may love enough to carry two or may flicker, a bright spot in the twilight of the heart. Love never dies, though we may choose to ignore it, bury it, or run away from it. Love is proof to me that God lives.

Mick

More Light Than Heat

 

 

 

 

 

More Light Than Heat

Oh, to be a candle, scourge of the night,
Giving of oneself to battle the gloom;
So tall and tapered, sharing warmth and light,
Banishing the dark from every room.
Though tapers, lit, more radiance purvey,
The flames consuming all they have to share,
More sacrifice is not the only way,
To multiply a solitary flare.
For brilliance travels back and forth en mass,
Nearly undiminished goes forth its beam,
As light breaks forth from gleaming silvered glass,
To banish shadows in a twinkling dream.
Tis enough to reflect the light it sends,
Rather than burn a candle at both ends.

Mick McKellar
February 2014


Why do some poets generate more heat than light? Why do they flare brightly and are quickly gone? Perhaps, they simply need to polish their powers of observation, and reflect on that which illuminates their lives.

Mick

Unseen Prison

 

 

 

 

 

Unseen Prison

Cold wraith-like walls my daily life surround,
More veil than barrier, this dark stockade
Looms a rampart, a personal compound,
Which of human imperfection is made.
Withdrawn within, to the shadows I cleave,
A prisoner behind bulwark unseen.
I long to be free, but I cannot leave,
Cut off from my life—an abyss between.
My heart, long bound by chains I cannot see,
Drums a slow song, unheard but by my ears.
Its thirsty cadence, yearning to be free
Of unseen chains, rusted by salty tears.
Yet my mind roams free, unshackled, unbound,
To touch other minds, with a joy profound.

Mick McKellar
February 2014

We all have our prisons, I suppose—some are even of our making. Serious illness can create an invisible prison, reinforced both by the fears of friends, family, and acquaintances, and our own fears, often amplified by loneliness and pain. However, there is joy in the freedom of the mind and the spirit, which recognize neither barricade nor boundary.

Mick

Seasoning

 

 

 

 

 

Seasoning

Though facts of life, all meat and potatoes,
My shadows of hunger suffice to sate;
I am one of those, whose broad palate knows,
To savor flavors that perk up my plate,
Passions that quicken in purple and red,
Dance among dishes both bitter and cold,
And stimulate warmth that goes to my head,
Spurring the bland to be lively and bold.
Spirit and sentiments, blue, white, and green,
Sweeten the bitterest bites in the bowl.
Imagination and faith, though unseen,
Taste heavenly to a starving old soul.
This is seasoning—piquant, savory,
That music and poetry give to me.

Mick McKellar
February 2014

As I search and sample the bits and bytes of the flow from e-mail, Facebook, on-line and TV news, advertising, magazines, and newspapers—I realize that my life can fly by facts, factoids, and data that may or may not be facts. I need the seasoning of music and poetry to slow my mind and savor the flavors of the whole dish.

Mick

Winter's Lessons

Winter's Lessons

My heavy flannel shirts felt warm,
When I was not so old.
My coat was shelter from the storm,
But now, my hands grow cold.

Then, Winter's drafts did not impair,
My shaggy, woolly pate;
But rich dark hair, no longer there,
Simply can't insulate.

My walks through silent, falling snow,
Seemed each a joyous trek.
Now, when those Winter breezes blow,
The snow goes down my neck!

Old Winter's lessons were complete,
When breaching a snowdrift:
Deep snow filled shoes, and froze my feet,
Gone near too numb to lift.

As I prepare to go out there,
I know what Winter loves:
I can't go out unless I wear,
A hat, scarf, boots, and gloves...

Mick McKellar
February 2014

As a young man, I felt invincible and immune to the cold of Winter's blast. The years have brought, if not wisdom, at least a healthy respect for the icy fingers of the white season.

Mick