Aren’t We Having Fun?

The coffee didn’t brew
The shower didn’t run
The room…too cold for you
Aren’t we having fun?

Laid out clothes never again to be worn
Cats basking in the morning sun
I’m reminiscing of days since I was born.
Aren’t we having fun?

No sounds of pickin’ guitar
Or TV showing the political run
I pray he hasn’t gone too far
Aren’t we having fun?

No pain to feel
No meds on the tongue
I keep thinking this can’t be real
Aren’t we having fun?

A warm embrace and kiss on the face
In final moments with the one
That I can still hear echoes of his voice saying…Aren’t we having fun?

It is with great sadness that I share the passing from this life to the next of Michael33, my daddy. Thank you for following his poetry blog. I hope it gave you as much joy as it did our family.

A final Namaste,

On behalf of Michael33

Spreading Wings

Spreading wings

I suppose it is time to bring the readers of this site, who don’t follow my journal postings on the Vision of Hope33 site, up to date on what is going on in my rapidly dwindling life.  My apology for this interruption in my normal posting, but there is poetry to be found in life… even when approaching the final breath.

I am advanced… stage four lung cancer that is now eating into the bone of the rib cage and other various dark corners.  It is extremely painful.  There seems to be nothing more that America’s medical professionals can do except to try to keep me as comfortable as possible and to continue to remind me that I am dying.  There has been numerous changes in my life in the past few months, but I am determined to continue to write and post my poetry for as long as I possibly can.  My sincere gratitude to all of you who continue to read my attempt at poetry.  If you do care to read details of my journey through cancer… please visit the ‘vision of hope33’.

Spreading Wings

It’s hard to feel the words
When you are dying
Locked inside the vault
Of your own skin
It’s hard to reach for verses
When your arms can’t reach for grace
While DNR’s lie inked
Beneath the pen

It’s hard to find the rhyme
Inside the rainfall
Locked within the pain
That fogs the mind
It’s hard to write the ballad
When your eyes fade in the storm
While you cannot find the truth
Between the lines

Yet always there is hope
Inside the vortex
Waiting to be found
Within the plight
It’s not always the eyes
That see the pathway through the veil
Where one can spread his wings
Into the light


Walking in the Shadows

Walking in the Shadows 2

Perhaps you have not seen me
Round the corners of your smile
Nor crouched beneath the fire escape
To ponder life awhile

For I have lingered far too long
In narrow alley ways
Despondent lines across my face
Like hardened potter’s clay

Walking in the shadows bare
Of reasons for the rain
Perhaps you saw me standing there
Entangled in the chains

For I have lingered far too long
Behind the battered walls
Scars that bind the shattered bone
From creatures down the hall

Perhaps you only see me
From the corner of your eye
Walking in the shadows
Or in dreams across the sky

For I have lingered far too long
In rhymes of thirst and sorrow
Walking in the shadows bare
Of reasons for tomorrow

I know you must have seen me
In the shadows of your room
In the corner, near the ceiling
Where your lucid dreams bear bloom

I dwell amongst the shadow’s dare
Without a helping hand
Where souls lie nude within their truth
While hope lies neath the sand

But I must crawl into the light
To warm my tattered wings
And paint my rhyme translucent hues
To fly within your dreams

For I have lingered far too long
Without your warm embrace
Walking in the shadows bare
To touch your quiet grace


Wrapped in Silk

The One

I was the one who sat beneath the maple
Listening to the song of merry sparrows
While stuffed cheek squirrels
Told tales of where to hide their winter stash 

I was the one who dreamed beneath the willow
Listening to the gentle breeze
Whisper rhymes of reason
That those of sober thought could not perceive

I was the one who slept beneath the bridge
Listening to rippled screams echo tomorrow
But stories told in shadows yon the moonlight
Stay wrapped in silk beneath the polished stone

You were the one who told my saddened fable
Listening to the song of the nightingale
Reaching your hand for mine amongst the rubble
To pull me from the briars that bled my soul

You were the one who held me through the thunder
Listening to the rain drops call your name
Speaking rhymes in quiet desperation
To warm my tattered heart through winter’s chill

We are the ones who found the buried treasure
Listening to our hearts in perfect rhyme
While verses may be difficult to envision
Our music echoes soft through endless time


Before the Rain

Before the Rain

It was long before the rains came
Though clouds had covered her world
For quite some time
Knowing the storm was coming
Was not unusual
She listened to the voice
The one with all the answers
Most often…
Having insight of knowing
Could not prevent
The happening

Once upon a time
She shared the wisdom
Of the voice…
Most ignored her –
Some laughed –
Many of them
Wondered of her sanity –
But… in time
She was most often –
Well –
Humbly quintessential

But the rains did come
Perhaps the storm
Of a lifetime
Offering no second chances
To those who could not see
What stood before them –
Who could not hear
The sound of the tempest –
Who could not taste
The essence
Of destiny’s breath –
Who could not
The simple understanding
Of their own whispers

Once upon a time
She shared the wisdom
Of the voice
The one with all the answers…
Most often…
Having insight of knowing
Could not prevent
The happening


Beyond the Hungered Canvass

Clouds 1d

The colors all ran together
A masterpiece
To the floor
Like spilt milk
On yesterday’s dreams
Where rhymes
Are but a memory
And nary an open hand
Can rise
Above the quicksand
The masterpiece
Remains forever
In the thoughts of the artist
Conceptions of all that is beautiful
In hues
That only she
Has imagined…
She still can see
The heather fields
Beyond the hungered canvass
The sculpture still intact
On potter’s wheel –
But she is not here
To shine the light upon the palette
Nor to etch the crystal vase
With golden grace
Yet the masterpiece
She left behind –
Wrapped tight inside my soul –
Lingers softly in the twilight
Of forever………………………..


Poems Upon the Pond

Upon the Pond 1

There were poems
Upon the pond
Rhymes across the river
Vestal verses
Too close
To the fire…
Parchment singed
In the silence
Of words unspoken
Pens full of ink
Fractured by time
By human hands

Yet poetry still lingers
In the breeze
Through the branches
Of the willow
In songs
Of the sparrow
With the first blush of dawn

But love left in the rain
Has never rhymed
Without the sadness
Nor the madness
Of a poet’s heart
Left alone 
To linger –
In the silence


Fate still takes its breath

Fate still takes its breath

I suppose it doesn’t matter
If it rhymes
Life is full of circumstance
The hourglass of time
Though hands may sometimes
Reach across the veil to touch the heart
Is still the final work of art

I suppose it doesn’t matter
In the dawn
If yesterday stood face to face
Cross lines that had been drawn
Though eyes may see
Through painted glass in hues beyond the sun
Still takes its breath…
When day is done


Borrowed Time

Borrowed Time 3

I cannot lose the hope of breath tomorrow
While still another rhyme hides in the shade
Although I bide in time that may be borrowed
I’ll pen my dreams till dawn begins to fade

If I should lose the vision of the dawning
Yet still can feel the warmth of morning sun
Perhaps the vision found within the yawning
Will never leave the poetry undone


Consequential Circumstance

Shadow man fire 4

It wasn’t that it happened in the light
For it is in the darkness I remain
Consequential circumstance could never touch the sun
But fate can wrap it tightly in the rain

Perhaps because it came so unexpected
For I walked beneath the shadows of the moon
Consequential circumstance could never touch the soul
But there was fate…
………. still etched into the rune

Perhaps it wasn’t consequential circumstance
For it seems I was the one who took the blame
Thinking I was standing in the silence of the moon
I must have been just standing in the flame