poem

All posts tagged poem

A Little Poem

Published March 31, 2022 by Nan Mykel

WANTING TO BELIEVE

On the farm, at five, I remember

both realising and regretting

that no one else could share

my experience, that each of us

is separate.  I still regret it.

 

As a youth, at bedtime, I would

sometimes hold one arm up

in the air for minutes. Any

involuntary movement of my arm

might be by God.

 

One day while in college I

had a flash, a “knowing” that we

are all together in our dreams.

Hungry for connection, I still hope

for something to be true.

 

Nan March 2022

 

 

KEEPIN’ ON

Published March 1, 2022 by Nan Mykel
 Image: Pixabay

           KEEPIN’  ON

Don’t say why, say how.

Why presupposes an

unattainable degree

of reason, as in truth.
 

Happiness happened

in graduate school, with

wonder and growing edges

always in process,
 

Connecting in the same

tongue searching for the

how, puzzled  by all the

unsolved mysteries
 

All the learning not

yet used!  The flying bishop,

prophetic dreams, who,

what when where how
 

The tip of the plow

still unearthing that

which might be now

or in the future.
 

Could quantum mechanics,

going with the flow, free us

to occupy a niche in

our haunted cave?
 

I’m still curious and

not willing to leave my

lust for understanding

back with my bones.
 

Should that occur, I shall

go out hollering and hope

to transition into someone

else’s Muse.

COVID REVERIE

Published January 29, 2022 by Nan Mykel

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Nan

COVID REVERIE

Snow is on the ground

I am snug in bed

What will I feel

When I am dead?

 

The child’s stark cry

Of where did she go?

Still puzzles me

I just don’t know

 

Gone in a second

Quick as a blink

I won’t have words

With which to think

 

Go with the flow

I can’t tell me

What’s the good of

A college degree?

 

Ha! don’t I wish that…

Memory was gone

Bad things said and

bad things done.

 

Bad is a word and

I won’t have those

But tears are wet

As everyone knows

 

What am I made of

Not sugar and spice

Maybe crawdads and

Poo and not a thing nice

 

But bereft of a heart

I can still feel.  Yes I can

And sense old friends

In La La Land

 

Lacking ears to hear

Or heart to pound

I can still make out the

Celestial sound

 

We lost a lot

When words came to stay

And nibble away knowing

The old fashioned way.

 

Dead, I am mycelium

A piece of the whole

No lungs but I breathe

An old old soul

 

Dead to the world

I live with old friends

Who welcome me back

Again and again.

 

 

Nan   January 29, 2022

AN Oldie — At Heaven’s Gate

Published December 5, 2021 by Nan Mykel

 

 

 

 

AT HEAVEN’S GATE

What do you really hope for
after death pulls the shade
on you?  To remember?
How we value our consciousness,
our me-ness!
Perhaps we re-emerge with the womb.
Would that be progress?
Who said anything about progress?
Was it AmWay?
Were we meant to always
be separate?
What does meant mean, anyway?
I wouldn’t opt for hell, but not to
be disrespectful I don’t want to be
dandled on another father’s knee
forever, either. (What a mouthful, “forever.”)
Do I really want to be alone forever?
(Just not with some people, I guess.)
While I don’t want Groundhog Day
every lifetime, is it all downhill
after this?  Back to an atom after
Beethoven?
I won’t care any more. They say I’d better
“let go” or stay on as a ghost.
Dust to dust.  Hey! I’m in here!
Like sleeping, they say.  But no dreaming?
What do you want to dream about forever?
The past? The future? The eternal now?
Maybe we’ll lightly settle on a higher plain.
(Higher than what? Lower than what?)
A small voice inside says, “Hey.
I want outta here.”  But not really.
If I really had my druthers
I would like to be welcomed back by
those many lives who have shared my
soul in ages past, to embrace and
melt into a reunion, at long last
home again, for now.
   Nan  Mykel   2015

They Cost You Nothing; They Have No Value

Published September 5, 2021 by Nan Mykel

While re-organizing, I came across the following poem by a member of our Poetry group, and have graciously been permitted to share it with you.  It is by Patricia L.H. Black, written in 2/2018.  An earlier poem of hers can be found on my Flash Fiction and Poe/try Page, titled “What’s Wrong With This Picture?”

 

I don’t want your thoughts and prayers.

They are as hollow as they are hackneyed.

What good are they in my time of grief?

I want my daughter back!

 

I don’t want your thoughts and prayers.

I want to know how you calculate

Just how blood money covers a living child.

I want my grandson back!!

 

I don’t want your thoughts and prayers.

Just tell me: Do you ever try to wash

The bloodstains from your heart and soul?

I want my fiance back!

 

I don’t want your thoughts and prayers.

Do the torn and shattered bodies

Ever disturb you in your sleep?

I want my neighbor back!

 

I don’t want your thoughts and prayers.

You know where you can put

Those thoughts and prayers.

I want my country back!

BREAKING APART — Poem

Published August 15, 2021 by Nan Mykel

WHEN THINGS BREAK APART

See them, feel them,                                                                                                                                                        hear them,  like
lcebergs splitting.

Public education,
freedom to vote,
climate change.

Civility, empathy
honesty, respect
equality, trust. Hope.

Children learn
what they live.
So do we.

If racism isn’t
systemic, why so
many voting limits?

If I had a guitar
and could play it,
I would,

and sing my wistful
regrets to the
cosmos.

Nan 8-16-21

Floating Away

Published July 20, 2021 by Nan Mykel
Image by Ruth Scribbles

Perennial or annual?

Annual.

Like a chunk of melting ice, we lose a part of ourselves with time (which doesn’t exist, remember)…

The watchman with a microscope sees his underfooting melt and float away, leaving the captain of the fleet more vulnerable.

I lost a part of me today, and will tomorrow also.  The longer I live now, the less there is of me.  Finally the early memories remain, and I am stripped in my naked animal vulnerability. 

Grin and bear it or don’t grin?  Ha ha…

COUSINS

Published June 21, 2021 by Nan Mykel

Horseshoe crab hanging on my wall

tunes up louder our past’s recall.

Someone found you on the beach

and brought you within my reach.

I gutted you but you were dead,

ahead of me, let it be said.

Now you hang in one oh seven

pausing on your way to heaven?

You’re bereft of life as I will be

when my old heart gives out on me.

But now I hang you in my hall,

a dreg from life’s own carryall,

and strong reminder of our past–

cousins, joining hands at last.

8-26-19

IMPATIENCE — Poem – photos from Pixabay

Published July 15, 2017 by Nan Mykel

I enjoy the  cat’s pajamas

they verbalize at times, but not

the moans of underlying pain.

Don’t let us know what lies ahead

a life of somersaults, dance

and glee only to be sidetracked

by a dislocated knee.  That I’m

one of those complaining does not

change my mind a whit.

If you think that I am lying just you wait a bit.

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