Writer's Block on a Monday

Why do I write in the dark of night,
In the downtime, when sleep should hold sway?
Why does my might recoil from that fight,
When I'm active -- enduring the day?
Why do my words just lie there like turds,
Stale and impotent as last month's rent?
Why do I save the whey, not the curds,
Preserved as though they were heaven sent?
Why do I press, my focus transgress,
To totter on wandering pathways?
Why does my best work fail to impress
Those friends who remember my good days?
The answer's sold in the dark and cold,
Where the once-bold grow tired and old.

Mick McKellar
February 2019

Some days the search for the profound is simply a visit to the lost and found.

Mick

The Gift Perilous

I apologize, my grandkids, again.
We are leaving you a planet in pain!
Our world of wonder is weathered and worn;
Our sweet promises are tattered and torn;
Our pilgrimage broken by profit's grift.

We were given keys to golden gardens;
Given second chances, even pardons
For wasting the fruits of our rights of birth.
But in poisoning the bounty of Earth,
We've set your future afire and adrift!

Often I weep in my pillow at night.
I dream that, somehow, we can put it right;
If we bypass greed, ignorance, and hate...
Do you think, maybe, we are not too late,
To save our precious and perilous gift?

Mick McKellar
February 2019

I was wondering what I would say to my grandchildren, to explain what we've done to their inheritance…

Mick

Keweenaw Spring

January's a long year,
February is dark.
March is full of snow fear,
April's so damn stark.
May will tease us often,
June's rain bugs will bring.
When July's winds soften,
Maybe we'll get Spring!

Mick McKellar
February 2019

I first saw a meme today which said: "January is a long year."

Mick