Winter Lullaby

Winter Lullaby

Be safe and secure,
Though the night whispers warning.
Our love will ensure,
That you need fear no fright.

     Refrain:
     The angels way up high,
     Watch you all through the night;
     As the cold winter sky,
     Glows with brilliant starlight.

Just close your sweet eyes,
Free from worry till morning;
When the dark starry skies,
Brim with bright golden light.

     Refrain:
     The angels way up high,
     Watch you all through the night;
     As the cold winter sky,
     Glows with brilliant starlight

A soft blanket grows,
Fluffy deep snow, white as cream,
To safeguard your repose,
And your warm winter dream.

Mick McKellar
December 2013


I wish you could hear the music in my mind.

Mick

Quiet Time

Quiet Time

So softly, sadly, Christmas day flowed by,
And passing, whispered a contented sigh.
It left behind a human heart aglow,
With all the memories it could bestow.
Distant loved ones talked of mundane matters:
Daily routines, grand plans left in tatters,
School days, work days, all about the weather,
Games they played, and fun they had together.
I steel myself, to face a silent night,
A quiet time, away from Christmas light,
And snuggled warmly in my bed, it seems,
I'll sleep in peace and love in Christmas Dreams.

Mick McKellar
December 2013


I pray your Christmas was as wonderful as mine.

Mick

Christmas Dreams

Christmas Dreams

The silence of this blessed night,
The touch of snow, so soft and white,
The gentle warmth of love's embrace,
Fills my heart with healing grace.
When echoes of the angel choirs,
Cross centuries hushed  awe inspires,
And soft, sublime, celestial streams,
Caress my humble Christmas dreams;
My soul soars swiftly, taking flight,
Quick borne aloft on golden light.
I mount the sky above all lands,
And brush the stars with outstretched hands.
Tis then I sing, joyous, extol,
The touch of God upon my soul.

Mick McKellar
December 2013

I wish you all a peaceful, joyous, and Merry Christmas.

Mick

Heavenly Guest

Heavenly Guest

A brittle, chill blanket shrouded the night,
Cloaking a soon-to-be mother, adrift
In a vast ocean of brilliant starlight;
Bearing the Almighty's most precious gift.
Long was your journey, to Bethlehem town,
Though heavy with child, you have traveled far;
To a small stable, and weary, lie down,
Under the aegis of the natal star.

Mother, O Mother, how long did you ride,
To find simple lodging, and blessed rest?
Enter your refuge, to shelter inside,
And welcome God's son, our heavenly Guest!

Deep in the cool, blessed darkness of night,
Long before earliest breaking of morn,
A stable awash with celestial light,
Heralds that Jesus, our Savior is born.
Glorious voices dance through the dark skies,
A chorus sublime, echoes joy and mirth.
Shepherds, uplifted by angelic cries,
Know joyful wonder and true peace on earth.

Mother, O Mother, how long you did ride,
To find simple lodging, and shelter blessed,
Where you and the Son of God may abide,
While angels and shepherds praise our sweet Guest.

Mick McKellar
December 2013


Merry Christmas!

Mick

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