Ivy Flowers

The ivy flowers up high in the trees,
Mark paths winding dimly through shadowed wood.
It’s simple woodcraft, and it’s understood
By one who takes time, and once taken, sees.
But the self-important seek other signs:
Arrows and bright indicators of red
Or white, written with instructions that said:
Follow the colorful markers and lines.
Though it’s convenient, it comes with a cost,
And not from the highly reflective paint,
And surely not from signage’s attaint,
But from quiet beauty and essence lost.
Take the time to hear what it has to say,
The forest will show you the prudent way.

Mick McKellar
June 2018

Beware the garish signposts others would have you follow. Read the forest and the trees, for the prudent path is there to see.

Mick

Broken Runner

I tumbled into a frightening dream:
My frantic feet flashing fire on the run.
My musical voice pitched in frantic scream,
In silent halls pierced by bursts from a gun.
Each door that I tried was securely locked.
The tile floor was littered and slippery.
The door to the cafeteria, blocked
With chairs and tables piled higher than me.
On, onward I ran toward the outside doors,
Where through dirty glass I saw flashing light,
That reflected on the polished tile floors...
My chest bursting open was my last sight.

I hovered, crying, and watched a long while,
The broken child body on blood-smeared tile.

Mick McKellar
June 2018

Sometimes, I wonder if my dreams are gifts or a challenge. I felt every bit of the unreasoning fear that seared through the mind of that innocent child. Running in terror and loneliness, a slim hope, and unspeakable pain...somehow, thoughts and prayers are not enough.

Mick

Watching a Fire Watching Me

My icy world must seem an endless feast
At rest, awaiting just your living touch,
To feed the roaring heart of flaming beast --
Your hunger eager to consume so much.
You peer at me with dark and empty eyes;
You cast your life light flickering around.
Yet, you must hear the hissing snapping cries,
As food and victims make their dying sounds.
I hear you breathing, needful rush of air
So balanced, with your blistering exhale.
I've felt you grow unchecked with dark despair;
I've seen you tamed, reduced in speed and scale.
And as I warmly ponder what you see,
I watch you live, and watch you watching me...

Mick McKellar
May 2018

As I was reminded tonight, we all can be mesmerized by watching a fire, whether on a beach, in a fireplace, or in a simple stove.

Mick

Welcome to Slumberland

I walk among dreamers along the rift,
Carefully sidestepping those near the brink.
Should I fall I’d set my spirit adrift,
For just long enough to panic and sink.
Most sleepers come here to ponder their fears,
Work out their problems, and probable fates.
Some smile while napping -- no agonized tears,
Others run screaming through various gates.
Many watch movies on small TV screens,
Movies that feature themselves as the star;
Yet others read their own fan magazines.
A few get lost when they wander too far.
Someday when you dream, and come here to roam,
If you see me wandering, bring me home…

Mick McKellar
May 2018

You mean you haven’t seen me in your dreams -- while I’m in my dreams? Well, after all, Slumberland is a big place…

Mick

A Roc's Egg

The wave-swept stones beneath my feet,
Were warm from midday sun.
The lake, a smooth and glassy sheet,
Reflected rays with sudden heat,
And cooked me until done.

I wandered aimlessly along,
Near dreaming as I walked,
And hummed a tuneless, wordless song,
As light as air, for nothing wrong
Was said, and no one talked...

Twas then I heard a rush of air,
A shadow passed me o're.
When first I looked, saw nothing there,
I shivered from that urgent scare,
Alone upon that shore.

A shadow deepened over me.
A voice began to sing
A cry of joyous ecstasy.
I turned at once, but I could see
Just one enormous wing.

A feeling of solemnity,
Washed through my heart and soul.
Though I felt no hostility,
The giant bird's propinquity,
Arrested my patrol.

A message formed within my mind:
"Request, with great respect,
Please never let another find
This egg, If you'll please be so kind,
My treasure to protect?"

The Roc stepped back, her dark blue eye,
So ancient and so wise,
Looked deep inside to verify,
That I agreed and would comply.
And launched for distant skies.

She told me where the egg was laid,
And how I was to watch,
And how she would come to my aid,
Should I grow worried and afraid,
That it might never hatch.

For sixty years, I walked this beach,
I'd stop and I would pray.
Until one night I sensed a breach:
With gratitude, and one long screech,
A young bird flew away.

When after many happy years,
My life came to its end,
I left behind my loves and peers;
I shed my pains, and tears, and fears;
And flew with my old friend...

Mick McKellar
May 2018

I never met a Roc. At least I don't thinks so. I would like to, though.

Mick

Ghost Light

On silent stages, only echoes live,
And days of drama pass to lonely sleep;
Performers sharing all that they could give,
Are taking with them pieces that they keep.
They shed the stolen lives they occupied,
And served the audience the residue.
While deep in character, the part they hide
Lives on, a spark, a flame they can’t eschew.
Each thespian’s a cast, in amber saved:
A soaring company, a silent choir.
Each author’s children timelessly enslaved,
Mute retinue an artist must acquire
To aid an actor’s depth when in a play.
And deep inside a ghost light shows the way…

Mick McKellar
May 2018

A piece of every character I have ever played remains inside me, endlessly waiting on a cue to emerge and live vicariously once again.

Mick

Donald, Do You Dream?

Donald, do you dream?
Are your nights mere cloven death?
Does your soul e're draw a breath,
Devoid of greasy residues of greed?
Is there anything you need,
Aside the golden screed...where you lay?
Do you dream?

Donald, do you feel?
Is it pain that drives your mouth,
Ghoulish tirades -- your sabaoth?
Is it fear that prompts your braying?
Is your spindly spine decaying?
Is anything you're saying...touched by love?
Do you feel?

Donald, do you care?
Does Earth revolve about you?
Do you fear that others doubt you?
Is it ownership you crave?
Bricks to build your tawdry grave?
Is it pleasant to enslave...all you see?
Do you care?

Donald, do you cry?
Aught but pain bring tear to eye?
Can the agony of others touch your soul?
Is empathy unknown to you?
Can you see it must be true,
That others besides you...might feel pain?
Do you cry?

Donald...do you dream?

Mick McKellar
May 2018

Every night I pray / That on the next day / A mask will fall away / And a President will emerge. / I wait so patiently, / But I look up and see / Porky Pig grinning at me, / Who says: “That’s all folks…”

Mick