My Reverie

My Reverie

I dreamt I sat upon a stone,
Along a dark and narrow way.
Although I walked there all alone,
Why I sat down, I cannot say.
I gazed into the gathered gloom,
My eyes in motion, endlessly
Afraid of what specter might loom...
In twilight, in my reverie.

I dreamt I slept upon that stone,
How long I drifted none can say.
I shivered, chilled clear to the bone,
For night had chased the day away.
An eerie mist clung to the broom,
Surrounding both the stone and me.
I felt watched by each yellow bloom...
At midnight, in my reverie.

I dreamt I tarried on that stone,
Til daylight could my fears allay.
And used my granite throne to hone
My nerve, to keep my fears at bay.
As daybreak banished thoughts of doom,
A sea of yellow greeted me,
With golden glow and grand perfume...
At daybreak, in my reverie.

The day-star touched my dark bedroom;
I smiled as sun awakened me,
To happily my life resume...
Abandoning my reverie.

Mick McKellar
July 2013


Sometimes, a dream is just a dream. Sometimes, it's a lesson...

Mick

A Better View

A Better View

The walls of my world are expanding fast;
The range that I rove is incredible.
My mind ventures forth through distances vast;
Capturing images indelible.
On wings of thought to the heavens I soar,
Adrift on trade winds of the universe,
And dive through blue ocean depths, to the core
Of the mysteries greater minds traverse.
Imagination transcends the grey mist,
Diffusing the warmth of my inner sky,
Allowing my earthbound soul to be kissed,
By the brilliant, golden gleam in God's eye.
My earthly spirit takes flight to renew,
Its sense of wonder...and a better view.

Mick McKellar
June 2013


When the body fails,
The spirit prevails.

As the limits of my physical world shrink, and the medicines limit the speed I can think, my imagination ventures forth in a blink, and I sketch what it sees in quixotic ink.

Mick

Mick Sempiternal

Mick Sempiternal

I am a brittle stick, hid from the wind,
A delicate delinquent in my cave,
A captive of my comfort, yet chagrined,
Afraid to live the life I seek to save.
I fear to touch another, lest I catch
A cold, the flu, or germ that does misgive.
What do I gain, if I my friends dispatch
To save my life, and then forget to live?
I ask myself these questions ev'ry night:
Is life a tangled track that must be raced,
In fear that it might end in sudden fright?
And should my death be feared or be embraced?
One fear pierces my soul -- a spectral knife:
To leave a long and careful, unlived life.

Mick McKellar
June 2013


Recently, I have been taking more chances: attending meetings, going out in public, and even walking in sunshine (for limited periods only!). Why? I live in fear that a simple virus or bacterium will once again race past my suppressed immune system, and dance the devil's disco in my odeum. But, living is about more than phone calls, e-mails, and looking out the window at the world.

Mick

Angel's Wings

Angel's Wings

I'd started to cross a street, with the light,
Having looked both ways, I stepped out to walk;
When chill intuition gave such a fright,
That I couldn't move and I couldn't talk.
I gasped at the sudden chill down my spine,
And I shivered at the sharp, frosty shock,
That a foreboding I could not define,
Somehow caused all of my muscles to lock!
An unseen vehicle flashed past my face,
Which, careening past at its breakneck rate,
Would have splattered me all over the place,
Had that cold touch not made me hesitate --
The wintry-warm feeling that God's grace brings:
The feathery, cool touch of angel's wings.

Mick McKellar
June 2013


I've felt that touch several times in the last three years. Have you felt it?

Mick

Saline

Saline

Twas a time the solution was the sea:
You could board a ship, leave the world behind,
And sail the great oceans, setting you free;
With sun and salty air to ease your mind.
Others claimed the answer was on your brow,
In profuse, jeweled beads of salty sweat.
The simple use of human labor, how
A man should seek what answers he could get.
Others espoused passion as the measure,
And method to find answers through the years.
The bounty for this boon, this grand treasure,
Was an ocean of sultry, salty tears.
It seems, saline solutions are the key,
To find our answers and set ourselves free.

Mick McKellar
June 2013

Our bodies are mostly comprised of water...salty water...just like the sea, sweat, and tears. Can we find our answers in the salt of the earth?

Mick

Music of My Memories

Music of My Memories

I try to throw my surplus stuff away,
Yet drift about, a silent wraith, and sigh;
For though I find new candidates each day,
I find myself unable to comply.
Each piece is fraught with memories, alive
With melodies that grasp my beating heart,
To dance a rueful, self-reproaching jive --
And all my best intentions fall apart.
As reminiscence steals my grand resolve,
And silently, nostalgia takes its place,
My plans to purge my spent surfeit dissolve,
Into an anthem time cannot erase.
I walk among lares and penates,
That sing the music of my memories.

Mick McKellar
May 2013


How odd that, just as I was struggling with decisions about what "stuff" to toss and what to keep, I should stumble on an old phrase for household goods: lares and penates -- referring to both household treasures and benevolent Roman household gods. It does seem that, sometimes, I worship at the altar of my toys...

Mick

Soldier

Soldier

An age ago, the rifle in his hands,
Spoke in righteous anger, and duty-bound
To fight for liberty in foreign lands.
Still, late at night he hears those bitter sounds.
He screamed inside each time he fired a round,
And saw it pierce a target in his sights,
And watched an enemy fall to the ground;
The vision haunting long and lonely nights.
His sense of duty led him to enlist;
His courage kept him steadfast in the fight;
He understood a truth so many missed:
That freedom's as much a gift, as a right.
He wasn't born a soldier, bathed in strife,
He became one to save his way of life.

Mick McKellar
May 2013

For Memorial Day. For all who served and all who still serve.

Mick