Dream Job

Dream Job

I’ll softly caress the face of despair,

And boldly gather an armload of light,

So when my heart sings hymns celestial fair,

My dreams will walk on borders of the night.

I’ll taunt a great storm with a mocking grin,

And gather wind to fill an empty heart,

So when my soul writes symphonies within,

My dreams dance gaily so nightmares depart.

I’ll chase the shouting wind through endless skies,

And gather starlight sparkling with my tears,

So when my mind paints pictures for your eyes,

My dreams will cry to you across the years.

But don’t worry, when they try to reach you,

I’ll be mowing lawns at Machu Picchu.

Mick McKellar

July 2014

Have you ever tried to make sense of your dreams? I quit trying and just enjoy the travel. I was looking at an aerial photo of Machu Picchu the other day and noticed wonderful patches of green lawns among the ruins. I wondered: Who mows those lawns?

Mick

Query Errant

Query Errant

Far from the delicate forget-me-nots,

Lining golden paths Elysium bound,

A bold knight errant, on his charger trots

Toward twilight, where timeless shadows are found.

His argent shield from moonlight is crafted,

His sword, from the golden light of the sun.

His silver spear point on oak is grafted;

His shield from diamonds and starlight is spun.

With purpose invincible, forth he rides,

With armor of adamant he is blessed.

He’ll seek the deep pool where knowledge abides,

Until resolute, he completes his quest,

And armorless, he can ride unconfined,

Through the rugged, wild places of my mind.

Mick McKellar

July 2014

Sometimes, when I’m searching for something I used to know, it feels like the quest for the Holy Grail…

Mick

Peculiar Poems

 

 

 

 

 

Peculiar Poems

Words in my pocket are torn from my soul,

Yet seem to spring freely from fertile mind.

They’re not dark shadows, my poet’s parole,

But simply the best my old brain can find.

I seek not to tinker with complex forms,

Nor do I offer mere prattle or boast;

I gather oblique views of daily norms,

To serve with life’s wine and offer a toast.

I toast to the images words can craft,

To stories in amber of complex rhyme,

That live when a reader has cried or laughed:

A legacy beyond distance or time.

My peculiar poems have just one goal:

To lighten a spirit or soothe a soul.

Mick McKellar

July 2014

In initial form, most of my poems are Shakespearean (aka, English) sonnets. This alone puts me outside today’s norm, which fortunately for me -- is exactly where I live. Occasionally, I use an archaic form or unusual word, but only to gain a definite shade of meaning. Age and heavy doses of chemotherapy have robbed me of easy access to most of these words and forms. Yet, if you peer into the dark corner of your bookshelf, where your dictionary or thesaurus resides, you might catch a glimpse of me -- smiling back at you.

Mick

Light of Mind

The twinkling stars are lights from long ago,

That journey far to fair caress my eye.

From fiery birth they travel to the show,

Which brings their distant fire to my night sky.

From age to age they waltz their courtly dance,

To music that the universe provides:

A song that whispers in the dark: “Bonne chance!”

A symphony that silent trust confides.

I stand before their faint and quiet gaze,

A tiny speck of life, a distant fan.

I smile to see their far-off fires blaze,

And wonder if they wonder about man.

Despite their blazing brightness, can they find

The fleeting brilliance of the light of mind?

Mick McKellar

July 2014

I love gazing at the night sky. The immense panorama gives me perspective and gives free rein to my imagination.

Mick

Loving People

Love's power will strengthen us, whether

Or not we feel we can win the fight;

For people need love, when together

We must battle the oncoming night,

And struggle through death to golden light.

You know that you have to love people,

For the human spirit to survive,

And rise on the wings of an eagle;

To then soar up to heaven alive,

And in God's wondrous mansions to thrive!

Mick McKellar

July 2014

Anyone who has struggled against the oncoming night, whether in a hospital or on a battlefield, knows the power of people loving people.

Mick

 Legacies

Our footsteps often manifest a trail,

A path which our descendants emulate,

Or else, reject as doomed to surely fail;

It hinges on feelings of love or hate.

But either way our lives affect their own,

And help inform the choices that they make.

They only know examples that we’ve shown:

To think they read our minds is a mistake.

We have to teach our children what we learned,

With each success and misstep we lived through,

Impart what little wisdom we have earned,

And then, somehow convince them that it’s true.

Of course, the choice is theirs to undertake,

A legacy to build on, or to break.

Mick McKellar

July 2014

Although our children watch us, and sometimes even listen to us, if we don’t teach them our values and life lessons, they will learn from friends, from entertainment media, and from (shudder...) social media.

Mick

Patriots and Tyrants

 

 

 

 

 

Patriots and Tyrants

A soldier is a patriot at heart,

And offers life and service for us all,

For he or she has done the hardest part,

By answering the nation's battle call.

They offer sacrifice, so I may drink

From freedom's fountain, not be turned away.

We are a land of patriots, I think...

At least, I see the word online each day.

Some say I can be patriotic, too,

But only if I share the stuff they write,

And never question if their words are true.

I think it's time free thinkers join the fight –

Tell online tyrants that we disagree.

Refresh the bloody tree of liberty.

Mick McKellar

July 2014

In honor of Independence Day, I wrote this poem because I am weary of the constant barrage of demagoguery and prejudice which often masquerades as patriotism online. Their noise detracts from simple and honest expressions of love of country.  I am not, perhaps, as cynical as Mark Twain, who said a patriot is the person who can holler the loudest without knowing what he is hollering about, but I fear that much which is poignant and beautiful is lost in the noise.

Mick

"The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants."

-- Thomas Jefferson