This Too Shall Pass

A nomadic band in a desert land,
Trekked border to border on golden sand.
They found an oasis where none could dwell,
For sticky, black goop had poisoned the well.

That meandering folk who used to roam,
Parked at the oasis and called it home.
Word spread far and wide that their wondrous goop
Smelled like rotten eggs, and made awful soup.

Big foreign investors and local toil,
Helped them pump out a vast pool of crude oil.
Though the pool is empty, the well gone dry,
The land’s still a desert under the sky.

They once lived on that land dwelling in tents,
Now it’s high tech and complex investments.
Then they remembered an age-old story,
Of fleeting wealth and vast vainglory:

For the happiness of an ancient king,
His people made war for a golden ring.
The ring knew his joy would never last,
Its inscription read: "This too shall pass!"

Mick McKellar
October 2023

Storm In A Jar

On the back  of the shelf,
Sits an old glass jar.
It’s all by itself.
It looks empty;
At least that’s how it looks so far.

No one knows for sure,
What it once contained.
I just know it’s a cure,
Welcome help,
When I’m angry or I’m pained.

I saw it flash one night,
When I was so mad,
That I wanted to fight;
Hurt someone.
Could have hurt someone bad.

Floating there in the jar,
Was a tiny storm cloud.
Lightning flashed so far,
It hit the bottom;
But it wasn’t too loud.

When I’m sick or I’m hurt,
There’s bad weather inside.
All my pain I divert --
And everyone thinks,
That I take it in stride!

Mick McKellar
October 2023

October Dreams

Far and away, o’er the wild, craggy hill,
Live old forest woodlands in peace.
And though they're ancient their magic is still
Alive, with sunrise from gold to cerise.
Tis a land where nobody ever goes,
Though tall tales are told by many a tongue,
Of eternal light, and everyone knows
Those who dwell there are forever young!
As Samhain grows nearer, the veil grows thin,
And careless dreamers have sometimes crossed.
The careless can easily dreamwalk in,
And it’s almost certain they'll get lost.
One must beware the ancient power streams:
The arcane magic of October dreams.

Mick McKellar
October 2023

Autumn Memories

The air is crisp and fresh and good,

The carpet of leaves shush like they should,

Over the river and through the wood.

I wish I could, oh how I wish I could!

Vainglorious Autumn has donned her best,

A rainbow of leaves sparkle in the West,

Chased brilliant streamers at the winds behest,

As the forest welcomes each awestruck guest.

I gaze out my window, my thought conceives

That my heart will feel what my mind believes.

I’ll watch until my mind perceives,

I’m jumping into that big pile of leaves!

I’ll feel all the leaves, cold, soggy, and wet!

I’ll disappear from sight, you can bet!

And then I’ll get stomped by a leaping pet,

About as much fun as a kid can get.

Then I sit back down in my rocking chair,

I’ll smile as the children caper out there.

I’ll laugh to recall the memories we'll share,

If we ever talk, some day, somewhere.

Mick McKellar

October 2023

 

What It Means To Live

Why does a child with one cookie share,
Yet the guy with a box full does not?
Why do the poor always seem to care,
While the rich cling to all that they've got?

Does having more make you less of a man,
When a neighbor cries out in great need?
Is it so hard to offer a helping hand,
Or engage in a simple good deed?

Why does a man or a woman lie
In the face of an obvious truth?
Is it only to stir up hatred by
Targeting bias and youth?

Why do old men run the government,
When women have so much to share;
And bullies who think they are Heaven-sent,
Poison news, both in print and on air?

They want our children to see and hear,
Only part of our long history;
Stories of anger, hatred, and fear,
Based on their own bigotry.

Share with children the spice of our life;
The wonders the world has to give:
The light and the dark, the solace and strife,
And to know what it means just to live!

Mick McKellar
March 2023

Stingy old men want to hang on to what they've got, and are willing to sacrifice the futures of our children to take away the possibility that they would see through their lies.

 Mick

Heart of Halloween

I paused when the porch light flickered and died,
And "Trick or treat!" squeaked from my lips.
I searched about for a place to hide,
I feared prey in a horror flick trips.
The house didn't give a Halloween clue:
No pumpkins or orange and black lights,
No paper ghosts with their paper "Boo!"
No pointy-hat witches in tights.

My  moon shadow drifted on unmowed lawn,
As I turned to start running back,
When I felt and heard the small cavern yawn,
As the front door opened a crack.
There in the light of an All Hallows Eve,
Stood a child in a princess gown!
Her hand gestured from a jeweled sleeve,
She was tossing a bright trinket down.
She disappeared as the door snapped shut,
And a stillness filled the night air.
I tripped and fell on my frightened butt,
As I got up and ran from there...

I went back to look on All Saints day,
To see the place I got tricked.
The yard was fenced and full of hay,
And the house was derelict.
I can't explain what happened that night,
The questions are short and cruel:
For mixed in my candy, shining bright,
Was a ruby-red, heart-shaped jewel.

Mick McKellar
October 2022

Just a quick trip down a darkened lane.

Mick

My Mourning Cup

I dedicate my morning cup to thee.
Slightly astringent, the Earl Grey
In my glass mug teases my tongue,
And the heady warmth of distant oranges,
Sing mellow notes… a counterpoint,
For the earthy melody of my tea.

Mea cuppa is a small salute, a nod,
To an iron soul in a velvet glove;
Gone from the shores of the great lake,
Gone from the magic isle,
With the silent peace of a sovereign servant,
Whose life was duty, bound with joy.

Mick McKellar
September 2022

The gentle touch of empathy, laced with steel,
is gone from the UK ship of state.

Mick