Starlight Song
I've heard the stars sing on the crystal wind,
That drifts bejeweled snow in winter deep.
What icy choirs sing they can't rescind,
It lives on in my dreams when I'm asleep.
Awake I cannot hear the starlight air,
Nor seek for solemn silence in the skies.
Yet, when I'm touched by those who love to share,
I see the psalm of stillness in their eyes.
I wish that I could sing the melodies,
The lullabies, and carols of the sky;
To teach these wondrous siren songs, and please,
Touch others with such beauty they would cry.
I wish to fly, to bring my friends along,
And teach them all to sing the starlight song.
Mick McKellar
January 2016
Silence is the siren song of my heart.
Mick
When all discussion is complete; when all debate has ended; when all factors have been considered - what I post here comes out of my mind...
Friday, January 29, 2016
Reality Show
Reality Show
The political roadshow on TV,
Makes me uncomfortable and nervous;
For in the rhetoric engulfing me,
I rarely hear about public service.
I'm buried in slick ads, and quick sound bytes
About each individual's chances.
The pundits encourage candidate fights,
And rush to show the daily poll dances.
I wonder why anyone wants to try,
To win such a contest given its cost,
And who will be left, to just sit and cry,
When we discover the things we have lost?
While we're watching this reality show,
Who's running the country? I'd like to know!
Mick McKellar
January 2016
Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!
Mick
The political roadshow on TV,
Makes me uncomfortable and nervous;
For in the rhetoric engulfing me,
I rarely hear about public service.
I'm buried in slick ads, and quick sound bytes
About each individual's chances.
The pundits encourage candidate fights,
And rush to show the daily poll dances.
I wonder why anyone wants to try,
To win such a contest given its cost,
And who will be left, to just sit and cry,
When we discover the things we have lost?
While we're watching this reality show,
Who's running the country? I'd like to know!
Mick McKellar
January 2016
Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!
Mick
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Green Grace
Green Grace
In my childhood dreams, I'd silently walk,
Moss-covered paths in a sun-speckled wood;
And with woodwind voices the trees would talk,
About starry nights and how rain feels good.
Then a busy squirrel, high in a tree,
Would stop his bustle, then stare in my face,
And would shout squirrel expletives at me,
Chattering loudly till I left that place.
The forest would hum as I walked along,
Watching me with arboreal esteem;
Till the wind would carry their ancient song,
On the fairy breeze and into my dream—
Till I gained green grace from my surreal stroll;
Their song healed my heart and it salved my soul.
Mick McKellar
January 2016
These days, I can only dream of long, peaceful walks in a green wood.
Mick
In my childhood dreams, I'd silently walk,
Moss-covered paths in a sun-speckled wood;
And with woodwind voices the trees would talk,
About starry nights and how rain feels good.
Then a busy squirrel, high in a tree,
Would stop his bustle, then stare in my face,
And would shout squirrel expletives at me,
Chattering loudly till I left that place.
The forest would hum as I walked along,
Watching me with arboreal esteem;
Till the wind would carry their ancient song,
On the fairy breeze and into my dream—
Till I gained green grace from my surreal stroll;
Their song healed my heart and it salved my soul.
Mick McKellar
January 2016
These days, I can only dream of long, peaceful walks in a green wood.
Mick
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Blessed
Blessed
I dream of tiny fingers touching mine,
A gentle grasp of love and utter trust;
A ruffling of hair so soft and fine,
It could be eiderdown or fairy dust.
I hear a tiny voice as soft as rain,
That whispers precious secrets in my ear;
And later, like the whistle on a train,
Can scream and wake me in the night with fear.
I feel a squirming bundle on my knee,
That wriggles back and forth, to get down deep
Within my arms, and slowly smiles at me,
Then closes wondrous eyes and goes to sleep.
I reminisce when down and feeling stressed,
Remembering how much I have been blessed.
Mick McKellar
January 2016
Some memories are worth revisiting.
Mick
I dream of tiny fingers touching mine,
A gentle grasp of love and utter trust;
A ruffling of hair so soft and fine,
It could be eiderdown or fairy dust.
I hear a tiny voice as soft as rain,
That whispers precious secrets in my ear;
And later, like the whistle on a train,
Can scream and wake me in the night with fear.
I feel a squirming bundle on my knee,
That wriggles back and forth, to get down deep
Within my arms, and slowly smiles at me,
Then closes wondrous eyes and goes to sleep.
I reminisce when down and feeling stressed,
Remembering how much I have been blessed.
Mick McKellar
January 2016
Some memories are worth revisiting.
Mick
Friday, January 22, 2016
A Speck of Forever
A Speck of Forever
I sensed the distant wake of its genesis;
Perceived as an awakening supernova,
but in an impossibly remote galaxy.
Its nascent touch,
the brush of a mosquito's wing on my cheek,
Was barely there,
but impossible to ignore.
My heart leapt,
Quickened by the thought of distant thunder.
Something wonderful was coming!
A chill wind stirred the dormant, slumbering dust
in the farthest attics of my mind.
The startled air whispered to me:
"Something wonderful is coming!"
I tasted air,
with the piquant savor of electricity,
the sweet promise of ginger and salt,
the lovely flavor of life.
I stumbled, once;
as the floor shook beneath my feet,
and a brilliant storm of light and sound
washed over me, and shone around.
My eyes were captured,
by the dignified flight
of a regal point of light;
an aura, a diminutive sun,
encompassing rays of rainbow hues.
Its gravity drew me forward,
as it gently came to rest
within my cupped hands.
Soft, yet irresistible thoughts
engulfed my mind,
and pulled me deep
within the petite, pulsing light.
Within the cascading light,
I felt the might and grandeur of life.
I saw the weakly flickering candle that is me.
I wept and laughed and sang and dreamed...
When I woke, I was alone.
I was changed, but I know not how.
I feel joy pulsing within me,
And that will be enough for now.
Mick McKellar
January 2016
A speck of light in your dreams can brighten your life.
Mick
I sensed the distant wake of its genesis;
Perceived as an awakening supernova,
but in an impossibly remote galaxy.
Its nascent touch,
the brush of a mosquito's wing on my cheek,
Was barely there,
but impossible to ignore.
My heart leapt,
Quickened by the thought of distant thunder.
Something wonderful was coming!
A chill wind stirred the dormant, slumbering dust
in the farthest attics of my mind.
The startled air whispered to me:
"Something wonderful is coming!"
I tasted air,
with the piquant savor of electricity,
the sweet promise of ginger and salt,
the lovely flavor of life.
I stumbled, once;
as the floor shook beneath my feet,
and a brilliant storm of light and sound
washed over me, and shone around.
My eyes were captured,
by the dignified flight
of a regal point of light;
an aura, a diminutive sun,
encompassing rays of rainbow hues.
Its gravity drew me forward,
as it gently came to rest
within my cupped hands.
Soft, yet irresistible thoughts
engulfed my mind,
and pulled me deep
within the petite, pulsing light.
Within the cascading light,
I felt the might and grandeur of life.
I saw the weakly flickering candle that is me.
I wept and laughed and sang and dreamed...
When I woke, I was alone.
I was changed, but I know not how.
I feel joy pulsing within me,
And that will be enough for now.
Mick McKellar
January 2016
A speck of light in your dreams can brighten your life.
Mick
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
Elemental Harmonies
Elemental Harmonies
I love the music of the written word,
Tall-telling tales that others haven't told;
And whether it's uplifting or absurd,
To mine the words for gifts of precious gold.
To sing the golden notes that life inspires,
And dance to rhythms deep within the text,
To paint the sound of thousand angel choirs,
Carries my soul from this world to the next.
It matters not, if others hear the song
Within the words themselves, or in the rhyme.
The beauty of the melodies belong,
To elemental harmonies sublime.
I dream to feel the wonders I extol,
And pray to touch a chord within your soul.
Mick McKellar
January 2016
If you listen carefully, can you hear the music in the words? Can you hear me singing?
Mick
I love the music of the written word,
Tall-telling tales that others haven't told;
And whether it's uplifting or absurd,
To mine the words for gifts of precious gold.
To sing the golden notes that life inspires,
And dance to rhythms deep within the text,
To paint the sound of thousand angel choirs,
Carries my soul from this world to the next.
It matters not, if others hear the song
Within the words themselves, or in the rhyme.
The beauty of the melodies belong,
To elemental harmonies sublime.
I dream to feel the wonders I extol,
And pray to touch a chord within your soul.
Mick McKellar
January 2016
If you listen carefully, can you hear the music in the words? Can you hear me singing?
Mick
Friday, January 15, 2016
The Great Soul in the Cheap Seats
The Great Soul in the Cheap Seats
The Great Soul gazed upon his family.
He smiled because he loved them, one and all;
He even loved the ones he'd never see,
Though they would come beyond his Clarion call.
He swift encircled all within his arm;
He touched each spark of life with simple grace.
His gesture made them feel so safe and warm,
They turned and he beheld each shining face.
The light of all this love melted his heart,
And roused him from his happy reverie.
Yet knowing, as his daydream fell apart,
He would return to watch humanity,
And love them from the peanut gallery—
The circle of his daydream family.
Mick McKellar
January 2016
To dream of touching all of humankind, is that what makes a soul great?
Mick
The Great Soul gazed upon his family.
He smiled because he loved them, one and all;
He even loved the ones he'd never see,
Though they would come beyond his Clarion call.
He swift encircled all within his arm;
He touched each spark of life with simple grace.
His gesture made them feel so safe and warm,
They turned and he beheld each shining face.
The light of all this love melted his heart,
And roused him from his happy reverie.
Yet knowing, as his daydream fell apart,
He would return to watch humanity,
And love them from the peanut gallery—
The circle of his daydream family.
Mick McKellar
January 2016
To dream of touching all of humankind, is that what makes a soul great?
Mick
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