SOMETHING TO PROVE

i had something to prove to myself
to you, i wanted to be
upfront, tell you how i really felt
only my words failed, my tongue
scorched;  unable to utter
what needed to be said, at the
moment, it needed to be said, wanting
to take you in my arms and hold you
like i should, the right thing to do, but
i came across cold and cowardly- in that moment
unable to meet your love half way
a moment that should have counted for more
until our eyes met, in that next moment
you kissed my lips tightly knowing they were
alcohol-laced, then you turned and left the room

by Michael Perry

FRESH OUT OF IDEAS

i lived on an island
for a year so i could write
each day composing notes

there they sat piled up
collecting dust
until i filled out another

in the morning i would wake
eager to get started
my mind filled with thoughts

i sat in front of a blank screen
just watching my reflection
all the ideas i had were gone

by afternoon i walked to
get fresh air, watch waves
and the seagulls dive bomb

coming back in, grabbed a
beer and fell asleep
out of nowhere a good idea hit me

they say at that point
wake up while the memory is fixed
too bad though im a sound sleeper

by Michael Perry

A CHRISTMAS LETTER TO A SON VERY FAR AWAY

My Dearest Son,      
  
as I start writing this letter to you, watching the embers in the fireplace adding a special glow, it's that time of year, the snow has finally begun to fall, the days are getting shorter and colder, i am sure you remember, how are you adjusting to the heat over there ?
still and all, this time of year makes me reminisce; when you were small, eager for Christmas, you remember? the anticipation grew and grew each day as we got closer to Christmas, I can still see the twinkle in your eyes on Christmas morning, my dear son I miss you so much,  wish i could make the year go a little faster, i am sure you do too, the towns the same, nothing ever changes, they paved main street and added a couple more stop lights, you'll get used to it i am sure, dad's already had a couple close calls, but you know him, he never blinks, he never thinks, willful, doing it his way
but I can tell he misses you, he doesn't show it, he worries in silence, that's how he copes, trying to be strong for us both, but i see it in his eyes, eager to know about you, every time we get a letter- and your little brother has done his best, to help around the farm, trying to fill your shoes, he misses you too
the neighbors and friends stop by, all of them wishing you love and Godspeed as they keep you in their prayers, we put up the Christmas tree the other day with ornaments, n' lights , not the Christmas star for the top, that was yours to do, so we left it off this year, no one else will add it except you, although your brother did ask
it breaks my heart; your not here, our first Christmas apart, my wish for you is that God will keep you safe and strong until the day we are together, we put a package in the mail, little reminders of home, for you and your friends
hoping it brings you closer to us in some small way until the day you are back , know you are cherished, we are so proud of you,  not a day goes by, your always in our thoughts, write back soon, when you can- I have to get dinner ready, your place at the table will remain here waiting; until you are once again sitting across from us, we hope and pray real soon.

hugs and kisses xoxo

Love Mom

by Michael Perry

TWO VERSIONS OF THE SAME STORY

                                          ( I)
lost in a thousand days our lives are twined
like  deep rooted trees we grow, embarking on a destiny
digging deep into the  rich soil of life, that which sustains
we take from it, giving in return, sharing the elements
that make us who we are, continuing to thrive
we are bold, boundless- letting our roots go where
they need to go, we are capable, inclined to be more, we give
into the future and past, for we our delineated, crisscrossed
we live in possibilities, we are ancient still young, living invincible

                                              (II)
love as a canvas expressed in this portrait of us
made from our flesh and feeling exposed, to be
artfully designed copied, envied, worshipped, whispered
as we take repose upon the alter of love, letting our passion burn
we are ageless, advantageous, ever-knowing
while there in the corner, a soundless spy stays ready
to keep watch over us, candle flame flickering, it burns through
illuminating our shadow, as we grow bigger from floor to ceiling,  immense, ready to breach our  boundaries that hold
us down, we tell ourselves, no more as we make ready to
accept this destiny and not some alternate version copied from  

by Michael Perry

GRAVITIES

My world does and will always
continue to revolve  around you
each day and night, we share the air
between us, your world inhabits mine
like two orbits fully in synch, we come
to occupy the same space communally  
we rotate  throughout our day to day  
being pushed and pulled as our gravities
take us to here and there, but at the
end of each day, we will resolve, to be
each others gravitational pull, hand in hand
we will watch as the sun and moon goes down
over another day fully shared, we have the stars
in our eyes, countless and counting, all the while
keeping us grounded to each other, for this is
our mutual world, a space shared, we call it, home  

by Michael Perry

EROS AND APHRODITE

it is for this love we are held captive as passion burns like a flame
we are both seduced with our eyes made eager inviting; unrestrained

let time be our keepsake no moment to spare, stoked by the fire
our bodies lay bare, tethered together in mutual hunger; desire

as two gods we remain, divine is purpose, fierce cravings feed
the lusting demand, some do claim, we alone satiate the others; need

By Michael Perry

TIME IS A CANDLE -a Haiku

Time is a candle
candle is time tick or flame
increments spaced out

by Michael Perry

TRUST ISSUES

for the house feels empty even
as the two of them walk the floor
with footsteps engaged, they are
in some kind of contest to see, who
can wear the floor boards down faster
back and forth, they pace, no end in sight
no words exchanged, between them, they stare
at each other as the rain thumps down on a
tin roof rusted, but some how it holds up better
then this old couple with their trust issues unresolved  

by Michael Perry

MY LITTLE BLACK DOG

my little black dog
trots bounding into the room, happy
a bundle of energy, she comes
upstairs with the intent to disrupt me
as i work to write; distracting me
away from my task at hand, which is
to write something, anything,  worthy of value
for you the loyal reader of mine
she goes in and out between my legs
anxious and calculating how long it will
take her, to take me with her, still i sit for a moment
while the words percolate, and then slowly, methodically
they slip away from my brain, she continues to circling back
and forth, convinced that if she does it long enough, i will
have to do what she wants, as i look down at her
she wags her tail feverishly, knowing she has my attention
her chocolate brown eyes seem to say  who is more important
me or your reader? and at that, a decision must be made

by Michael Perry

SEASONAL SEGUE

as with anything, a season is no different
coming to it's end, the august summer heat
subtle, stagnant, mixed with dried hay grass
partially burnt and scattered to the corners  
under a stifling, stillness, ready now, to
leave tendrils of each day more shortened
while the reds and oranges of sunset, begin to
purple like a bruise, the darkness rising, cloaked
ready to take possession of each passing day

by Michael Perry

SPRING THING

every year it happens, about now
with small bursts of yellow purple
and white, as the crocus, daffodils
and winter aconite shake off the last vestiges
of frozen glaze glistening onto their leaves
letting the buds finally pop open to release
the colors that make it recognizable to even the least
among us, willing to show up early against a backdrop
of still turning green, it is a simple gesture for sure
yet subtle made perfectly clear, in its attempt
that Spring is here, with no further explanation needed
letting each small step lead to the next
breakthrough as it takes place, highlighting
a new beginning over the landscape and before
our eyes showing us what to expect over the coming months

by Michael Perry

BREAK APART SCENE

i remember
reaching out, one day, to
your side of the bed, cold, unslept
that morning, the distance
was wide, between us
a chasm, self- created, too hard
to overlook, climb
the sound of silence
remained between us; detached
no code word, to interrupt, or save
for this was happening in real time
between us, a break apart scene

by Michael Perry

SPRING IS- a Haiku

Spring is natures way  
to open the senses wide
and welcome life in

by Michael Perry

SPIDER SPINS-a Haiku

as the spider spins
livelihoods ordained    
till the shape of wind  

by Michael Perry

EITHER WAY
                                      
feeling full of myself                     so  totally                      I am           in control
with blaring music-                 buzzed, happy   invincible-                           singing along- play it up  
make it loud-                                                    in the background   an escape of                  so sudden -all the-        
words lost- gone; blink in an instant  from my brain,                                     to       I am - far removed-
there is no meaning less , of the blur                                so tell me                        on-coming head lights blazed-come now gone
     there in                 a split second decision;         all is changed          came the whirring past
                                what was I thinking?              mortality                      such a fragile thing
begin- to sink in                            death                                           or life- a quick                                what if
could have                gone                                                    either way

of shattered lives-     no next time        on a dark road     leaving   only-tragedy- in it's wake-              of young dreams deferred; unfulfilled

by Michael Perry

MY FAMILY

my family, they come they come, ready to seek to
find; they walk, to see, to hold what's dear; my family
like yours- or any other, they come, still they come
to escape, implore, never to go back, ready to conquer
their fear, while searching for freedom, and in return
they will come if only for a little piece of dignity, with no
choices left, they come  they come wanting only to be
just be; decisions made, uprooted, they come, hand in hand
never to be separated, or left for persecution, still they will come
ready now to find themselves, to find somewhere else, yearn
to be free, words being the barrier, a hope against hope to
look for some place safe,  they come, they come, ready to face
the unknown they come, my family, they come, still they come
searching, willing to experience to assimilate no longer worried
with their burdens buried assuaged from a heavy heart, they come
they come, lost in to the crowds, seen, be heard, to be strong
to carry on- to be just like you and me- live the american dream
have faith in to believe, cries of humanity;  strikes a chord, have
someone accept them, take them in, leave no one left behind, they
will march through the heat, down the side streets, very little food
or water, with an occasional hand out, they will cross rivers deep
the thousands without sleep, still they are strong, with possessions
on their back, little children in tow, they look to the mountain wall
with all memories left behind, they proceed, another obstacle to
overcome, still they move in a wave, a force, to one day- be a model
citizen, made more resilient from struggles to over-come; they will
come my family, still they will come ; my family ready to follow in the footsteps of every emigrant who made the impossible possible

By Michael Perry

HEADY DAYS

back in the day
I could hold my liquor
better than most, feeling good
with no price to pay
steady as a rock, I would be
whoever each time, playing a role
no consequence no rules, feeling invincible
living out  my heady days of youth
most days now, you will find me
sitting in the park, alone; talking to the pigeons
as they gather at my feet, while I
drink out of a disheveled paper bag
these days I collect spare change that falls
falls from stangers hands, or the occasional
quarter I will find on the ground- oh yea,  heady days
of youth- what of it, don't miss -what I can't recall

By Michael Perry

DO YOU RECALL

do you recall, a time when
we were satisfied  with being in love; with love
in those moments, so tender
we awoke as one, taken, assured
this was meant to be, love unbreakable; a bond shared
for love was fragile, a token given-one to one
in those moments, the anticipation tantamount
to anything before or since, of this or that, all known
we loved, fully unaware, then a seismic shift
a fissure created from what was to what is- away from
you, me, us, unexplainable, possibly avoidable
who's to say, yet here we are, sanctioned by silence
and the dormancy of years, when now is the time
when we need each other the most, what happened to our love
where did it go?
will it return, will it be too late
how will we know?

by Michael Perry

IT WOULD BE SO EASY

it would be           so easy           to  just let go
    
i cant count how many times
i have stood right here, wringing my hands
willing to feel each moment drain away  
as i realize with each time my rope
that i  cling to seems to get shorter as
i lean  on the little bits  of hope left
imagining what would life be like if i just
pushed through, hung around
a little bit longer  it's not a lot - i tell myself still
whenever it gets bad, it could be worse
for whatever its worth it gets me through-for now

by Michael Perry

REMEMBERING J

why is it that the good die young
we got the word today, she passed
she had only been sick for a couple months
she was vibrant and full of life
could light up a room, with her
hearty laugh and joyful soul, she
never complained about
the death sentence, she was given she
never said, why me, she accepted fate
and moved on with the time she
had left, no time to waste, what if the
doctors were wrong, and she had less time
a reason to keep moving, not sit still
to never be idle from this point, she understood
and accepted in stoic silence, while the rest
of us wallowed in her shadow, so again i ask
why her, i don't understand, i will never understand
so many good ones taken away before their time
why? Heaven is full of angels already, there is
no need for another one, she needed more
time, and life needed a little more time with her

By Michael Perry

NO REGRET

there is time and there is place
above the quiet of it all-then, as now
absolve oneself to memories lost
try as they might, like words on a page
to form the familiar;  all the joy the sadness
the mundane, waiting collected, gathered
to this place, to go to in time of need
as one does  in reflection, introspection
to consider, to establish, to determine
if only by chance, to let in, or turn away for good
in this time of why and what will be, to witness
to interpret the past, present and future by the ashes
of the once was, drifting, lifting away, simple now, in quiet
flakes of gray snow swirling, gathering to float upward
into the winds of change, as one individual swept up in the
middle of it all, gathers their thoughts, looks skyward  and
readies themselves once more to continue walking
along the many miles of shore in the name of no regret

By Michael Perry

A BLANK PAGE

restless, aware of time, as
it passes, slower then a single
thought to reach my brain-there
a blank page- sits to stare me
down, it threatens to expose my
failure, once more I feel the silence
surround me, taking hold to build like
the darkness outside, it swallows me
whole, still I am unprepared, trying
to avoid  the unavoidable, still, no words
will come I am wordless, having no
rhyme or reason with which to clear
the impasse- while, she in the
other room, sleeps the dreams of
one who's life is uncomplicated, for them
it comes easy they do not struggle, as I do
for them everything is a black or white concept
and in the morning she will rise, refreshed
unaware, I am not there; not to worry,  she thinks
I must be out taking a walk, to clear my head
she knows my routine, as she continues setting
for breakfast-coffee and condiments, assuming
I'll be back, as the minutes click on, she takes
another sip of her warming coffee, and stares
out the window waiting for my eventual return.

By Michael Perry

TIDE POOL

it was the day after, the storm
had barreled through the day before
leaving everything torn and tossed
as the sun was beginning to shine- little peeks
here and there, the sea had claimed victory
with such a furious power that it tore down the
jetty we all used to fish upon, it was now
a series of jagged rocks here and there like, marbles
thrown on a carpet mat, we are used to storms coming
from the sea, but this one rattled nerves, as i walked on
the length of the shore, as most locals would do
have done, with previous other storms, milling about
looking for something they could cook up for that nights meal
- i kept going on, soon i looked back, checking
my progress, everyone else was now scattered like
little dots, unrecognizable as people now, at this point
the air was cold and wet, as it bit into me- i should have
dressed warmer but i didn't think about it at the time
looking down at my feet, my shoes soggy with dampness
i came upon a small eddy of water far from where the incoming tide
was barely meeting the sand at this point, i gazed into the
small pool to see it teeming with life- the little creatures waiting
for the tide to come in and take them back to the relative safety
of the sea before any dangers could claim them- overhead, i heard
seagulls cawing squawking, making a lot of noise, they saw this little pool
of water as well, biding their time, making circles in the gray skies above
i looked back down at the small pool telling myself, not on my watch
so i planted myself into the soft, dank sand making my legs go
crossed legged to wait it out in the gloaming dusk for the tides eventual return

by Michael Perry

SNOW (haiku)

as the snow flies cold
it blankets in purity
offered renewal

by Michael Perry

BACK THEN

you and I once made a pact
with our eyes, back then
words did not exist, between us

in the silent dark
we made holy, a vow with
our bodies in shadow, to witness

for every breath we took
a further reassurance, to the
love we shared

back then as words, hung in the air
unneccessary,not needed
we spoke of love, with our eyes

By Michael Perry

HAIKU POEM  (pandemic fatigue still we must carry on- not give up)



darkness to the light
better days will be here soon
wear a mask for love

by Michael Perry

ANTITHESIS

moon
readies
into place, to reign each night  
overseeing, shadows-and light; a days antithesis
of what was- a cycle in contrast, gone for now
I realize, I am
standing still
looking up- what for?
I prefer light over dark, but
for whatever reason, I am drawn to the juxtaposition, mesmerized

by Michael Perry

CHANGE PLACES

i was always envious
wanted all you ever had, unexpectedly
we meet by chance, i was shocked to see
you across the street, holding up a sign
in front of you that said:
"PLEASE HELP I AM HOMELESS AND HUNGRY"
i walked over and put every spare bill
i had on me, into the can you were holding
you did not look up, you just said, "Thankyou"
as i did this  i was thinking, i have heard about
scams like this, and i thought- really ? your doing it
again, and for a moment, i hesitated, wanting to  
take the money back, while i was thinking this you
walked to the next person coming your way, at that
point, i wondered if our places were changed
would your reaction be the same, would you be pleased
with yourself or ashamed of thinking what you thought?

by Michael Perry

A LIFE LIVED

all through life, feel the need, keep your heart full, just dance
make yourself open up to it, take every chance, give in to it all
embrace, as you fall -in love fully, watch for the signs that will
beckon to you- embrace the life given- face it head on- and the
joys of a family extended- it brings, remember throughout it all
there will be pain and joy, you will experience emotions, shedding
a tear or two, along the way, mistakes are made, more than a few
for you are human unable to help yourself -so be ready to make peace
with yourself and when the time comes, for  all the moments you
turned the  other cheek- you did it with a smile, you did your best throughout- and as your life's journey beckons to a close
you will reflect, having  no regrets- just plenty of good memories
                       - of a life lived in full

By Michael Perry

FOR THE RIGHT MOMENT

time, standing still; stealth laid bare, ours only to pacify
out of a split second we, kept in a trance, we
watch her pose, turn, stare back into the camera's eye

offered up she, with a look, her face  iridescence reflected
she, one eyed; Rita Hayworth, hair lost in skew
similar unfamilar, red-dressed silhouette, mirage detected

within a non shadow, filtering exposed, camera's focus explained
by the trick of light, she stays unfazed, to our dilema
she is poised; in a pantomime-as the mystery of; remains

displayed in negative rolls of film; to mock more the light
we are held in captivity, where she holds her court
into; out of body, precise is she, left anon in black on white

her face like an angel, or a devil in disguise
coyed in voyueristic servitude, our hands are tied
if we believe in truth,  willing to succumb to the lie

as we continue to watch; caught up in the freeze frame
with no where left to hide, she like a whisp, ghost like using
no words, not a sound, just sans a smile, in which to blame

waiting for the right moment, unattainable, in voices un-evolved
she stays defiant, steeley eyed in temptation, diligent, her essence
not revealed; she remains, whole- hearted to break our resolve  


By Michael Perry

IN DAYS

Day One
for a moment.
by pause, a fog.
laden, having no memory.
lost, in itself, to forsaking.
the life of the living, ignored.

Day Two
from out of nowhere, the sound.
of thunder, listening to the beat.
as a life bringer, first a memento.
to gather, to mourn, to implore.
on its own, choices are made, each one.
ready for sacrifice to a higher god.

Day Three
in the middle, of nowhere, as everywhere.
they uprooted pass by footsteps come, ready.
a sound, by higher, in loud, I, to overwelming.
by an unknown, bewildered one, a jouney to, we.
accepting, choose, this, the context, if, of what will be.
             you, blink ready- now, to understand.

by Michael Perry

DARK CRIMSON

in of itself, the spilled over feelings
-of lives unfulfilled; their willingness
to let innocence fade into, the pavement
on the side walk, or the front steps transom
leading into the light of a door partially opened
it spills, down in to the cracks with
it's dark crimson flow, to seep deep into
the soil whose essence of; becomes part of
the fabric of life itself-in a constant battle
for the daily ebb and flow, no give; only to take
which no one person can name on their own, yet
with blind eyes, we see it all, continuing to unfold
night after night, with a crescendo of anguish
a mother's cry, splitting the night in half- then;  a silent stillness
which bleeds into a red sky dawning, readying us to prepare
for another night of carnage.

By Michael Perry

SUMMER NIGHTS OUT IN THE COUNTRY

the big fat moon  shines down, in a midnight
souless delight happy with it all, giddy, full of itself
the confidence oozing, filled with, a righteous piety
on a bent, up till then, as a  line of angry looking clouds
give the impression of- an arrogant smile crossing the
moons face, what a touch, this slick character moon, still
with tricks up it sleeve, the winds begin shifting
bringing more change; in cracks of thunder to break the back
as silent streaks of lighting, become alive, hot and murderous
all in  response to what was a previously silent night
brought about, now coming to pass, the modality of change, swift deepening, quick to a sullen nod for nothing breaks the
monotony better than a sudden mood swing from a fickle moon's changing of mind on this hot summer country night

by Michael Perry

EPOLOGUE OF A LOVE STORY

when the lover dies
a piece of the others heart
goes too, as one left behind
mourns, what was there is now gone
the heart is a strong muscle
capable of anchoring and
strengthening at will the vow
of the beloved's life together
thereby even though time
will pass and it will, the heart
never fully heals, it feels the
loss as if missing a limb, it's
there but it isn't -coming to
accept in theory that one half of
of the whole is gone with
nothing ever to replace it

By Michael Perry

TELL ME

tell me, as we get started, i can see by the lines on your face
so full of expression ready to speak for themselves, are you ready to tell me  how you persisted in your pursuit of telling a good story how you sweated through each line hoping to make
the next one better than the last-as you brought your prose to life
tell me how you toiled night after night beneath the glow of a
60 watt bulb-as you struggled till dawn making the words
grow wings having them soar from page to ceiling, as you let each
word take flight, and through it all, it was never enough as you
made your way through, chain-smoking, the whole time until each
blank page was filled one by one, word by word, captured
precisely on every page, as you envisioned, breathing life, you
exhaled in relief, no matter how tired, not stopping, always driven
so tell me - in your pursuit to succeed; sometimes driving you mad
still, knowing the outcome- tell me, through the stress and strain, as you claimed each  small victory, tell me, what you know now, accepting all the failures, does one success out-weigh defeat- tell me when you look back over your life, so tell me was it worth it?

by Michael Perry

COMES A FLOWER

out of the jagged lines
molded into the aged  pavement's
upheaval; the ugliness will
thrive; surrounded by broken glass
and debris scattered, comes a flower
struggling to break through, to survive
as it seeks the sun-for in it's
weakened state, the slight leaves
make a vain attempt to find it's
place in all the blight and excess

By Michael Perry

GOD ARE YOU LISTENING?

God are you listening?
this is a poem (feels more like a prayer)

there is so much pain
people are really hurting

not just these or those
seems to be everywhere

the senseless, all the vitriol
like a match lit, a crying shame

i wish it would get better
still it seems to grow  worse

what do we do
no relief seems to come

so that's why, i am reaching out
do you have the answer to all the suffering

please God, are you listening?

by Michael Perry

OLDEST TREE IN THE COUNTRY

there is this story about a tree, in our town
oldest one around, surviving all this time
whether by wind, rain, hurricanes-even
lightening strikes, nothing ever brought it down
it stood tall; as people from out of town would
come and ask, what was worth seeing around here
so we would always point to the tree, it began
drawing crowds large and small, by word of mouth
people would come from far and near, wanting their
pictures taken with the oldest tree in the country
as the time went by the tree became quite famous
notably on the news, or stories in print, all of which
took on a life of its own  gaining all this notoriety-everyone
knew of it-this went on for years, and while at first, us;
the towns folk never noticed it, thought we had taken
care of the tree, we did not pay enough attention; people
had been touching the tree all this time, maybe for
good luck or a reverence for it; who knows, still slowly
it took its toll people even removed pieces from it, making
off with the bark as a souvenir, that's all it took, most
noticeable were the  bald spots along it's trunk, this
invincible tree which stood in our town for hundreds of years
was susceptible to only one thing, that  which finally brought
it down-the smallest of them all, unnoticed by the naked eye
- the final cause of death-a human germ, passed by a single touch

by Michael Perry

ALBATROSS

out to sea, just you- far out beyond the sky
drawn by the sight lines -of the horizon
in it's unending demarcation, latitudinal and
longitudinal points of interest-- where there
is life, sun, clouds and the occasional rain, when
you took a wrong turn, to bring you further out
-a situation, you hadn't counted on- you search daily
- looking for-something-anything, signs of life
in your momentary delirium-you start having  actual
life conversations with the only solitary animal for
miles around; an albatross- who has made his temporary
port of call- on your boats- starboard side- where each day
he regales you  with stories of his travels, places you will never see
he hopes to keep your spirits up just in case- but until then, it doesn't
matter to the bird for each time he looks at you , in apparent disdain
he will remind- in his scared straight speech -Morgan Freeman  voice
why didn't you have a backup plan just in case- for a situation like this
and then you both laugh at the absurdity of it all-to have
conversations with a talking bird, and a man lost at sea

By Michael Perry

BE READY

if it is midnight, it could somewhere or anywhere
for i might be a  stranger, who just happens to be
passing through, so be ready, and know this for
i maybe different, in looks and design, not your cup of tea
despite ourselves we all know better, isn't it ingrained
into our souls, not to judge a book by it's cover, still
at this late hour do not make assumptions, know this
i might be a soul in need of help or a stranger who wants
to stretch his legs, grab a coffee and be on his way, still
the feeling wasn't mutual between us, i could tell
you wanted me to move on, so with decisions made
we both felt it was for the best, as i hit the  gas pedal
creating dust clouds between pavement and the wheel

by Michael Perry

THE LAUNDRY PRAYER

she hangs out the laundry
her daily chore
a life lived chaste
happy never bored
on this day, a slight warm breeze
carries the smell
of fresh washed clothes
to far and near
always making her feel proud
while her bones carry a burden
of flesh worked hard
she knows she is worthy
she says her prayers
with her hands without
ever uttering a single word

by Michael Perry

VINCENT
         (Homage to Vincent Van Gogh)

did you know when your genius came to you?
did you see it, materialize through your own eyes
or did someone tap you on the shoulder, is that
when the recognition for you became a reality?
no worries,  i am conflicted about being famous too
but it's sure nice to know, people know your work
being on a first name basis, still, your inspiration where
did it come from, read you had a tough life, blue periods
cut off your ear, and those starry nights, ahh, the sun flowers
too, sorry for it all, still you did well, and you never made a
dime while you were alive, but know even after all that
with generations to come, those of us who appreciate art
already know your name, so sleep well tonight Vincent, and know
your anonymity is safe with me, as I admire your genius from here

by Michael Perry

HEAVEN BOUND

in what feels
like a way station
for the people-of ethereal
to move about;  a difference of realities
they mill around to
take their turn-there
is no pushing, everyone
gets in line, fully cooperates
coming from everywhere
all walks of life
white, black, yellow, brown, red
filling up all the space
they smile, or
give a pat on the back
reassuring; to usher each other through
to the waiting gate; young and the old
gathering together ready
to make their way, destined to
board the crosstown bus, be heaven bound

by Michael Perry

DOWN BY

all the signs lead to a river, crested by a bank
deep in the wood, so look for a path
that will lead you there, or listen close for the
gurgling water as it sluices through winding ways
made from the top of the mountain down
you will know then, missed by countless others
a view underappreciated by most, unsurpassed

by Michael Perry

WHAT WE TELL OURSELVES

there are sad things we can accept as fact or shrug it off
as our little voice whispers, depending on which small voice
is talking to you;  so picture this, as you think it through
in a house on a quiet street, lined with fences and trees
is a woman sitting on her barcalounger alone, on this last day
of the year, she is feeling unloved, still it doesn't have to be
as we all make choices daily- that's what we tell ourselves
still she cannot accept the fact of why her?-she ponders this,
with a cigarette glowing through clenched lips, she takes in
a long slow drag as the stifling silence completely surrounds her
all this time; so we surmise, it comes down to guilt of conscience there must be deeper things going on; we cannot get into her head, as she carries this around like an afghan shawl, it's her bitter pill- which she takes daily in a shot glass on a table by her side- steeling herself to cast away ghosts that appear from each year past- and all that it represents, will it be enough as the clocks ticks down, she can see the new year coming into view as she takes in a deep sigh, preparing  for the inevitable, she steady's her nerves for what lays ahead, she has no one else to blame, she accepts this as her norm

by Michael Perry

NO JUDGEMENT

still dulled between the eyes and with the
random anonymousness of it all, coming into
focus there in the shadowed room, a mix of legs and arms
are in a tangle twisted, together their expectations
sated-it is early morning as the light peeks through
from the dark curtains slightly pulled back-to reveal
the golden aura  of anticipation coming to a conclusion
which is a far cry from what remains of the disregard
all the disorder, colliding within having been sustained
throughout from the pulled back sheets bunched
into a knotted pile; or the random lip stick stain left
on the deflated pillow case; ashamed,  while there
on the tacky vinyl table top, sits two glasses, remaining
half full, or keep in mind, the results  of a random
exchange of different denominations agreed upon- for all
is silent save for the soft whisper of breathing, from the
current occupants, then a clock alarm preset goes off
each one retreats to their part of the room to gather up
scattered belongings, to crisscross the room-absolved
of a momentary lapse of guilt once they begin their exit
from the room letting the door slam shut behind, to the
elevator, as the bell rings, doors swing open wide, they
enter and turn to face forward silent still as the doors close
they stare straight, to the last thing their eyes will see is the
customary paper sign, they left on the door handle to the maid
a reminder that the room is ready for her caustic cleaning, for
which the maid will make her customary minimum wage
regardless even so,  it is not her place to  make any judgements
on who comes  and goes, for she only cares if she was  left
a minimal tip for the pleasant stay that was had and to make sure
the  room is put back into place before the next customer arrives

by Michael Perry

BLOWING OFF STEAM

I shall never be rid of you; in the deep down
this little voice that nags-it grows stronger
sometime-not to be  ignored, here nor there
reacting whenever it wants to make itself
be heard, if I know right or wrong with my
mind made up-whether with disdain or satisfaction
to get it's point across for at this juncture or
next- to tell me in it's own little way, whether I
want to hear it or not-demanding of me; full attention
day for night; and sometimes-when I've had enough
it's my way of blowing off steam- I find a place
quiet, my sanctuary space with no one around where I
silently yell into the void and when I've had enough
I feel better, until the next time; whether good or bad
to keep me in line- to my conscience- I say, be ******

by Michael Perry

LAKE ERIE

On my walk, making way to Lake Erie
as it reaches out in front of me, proving
a task, bits of debris cling along the shore
a brick, driftwood, a tangled fishline coerced
I keep walking catching my breath as i go
till the harsh lake winds whip in a frenzy
trying to attack me from all sides, so i
look down trying to prevent  any further
wind burn lashing my face, and ahead
i see strings of brackish foam coming
in with the tide, behaving like a rabid dog
still ahead of me further up the body of some dis-
emboweled creature lands at my feet-which i am
unable to no longer identify with any certainty

by Michael Perry

INTO THE WINDOW

into the window, it comes flooding past- the
reminiscences, to take up- or fill in the empty
spaces once occupied by us, now caught by
the moon of half light readying to pause right
there on the floor board, leaving only a  chill bone
of breath, stale, silent, unanswered; you and I -we
were two lovers brought down by the flux of not
meant to be, we slipped away like the memory lost to
time as reflected by the faded wallpaper or to the bed we
shared, while on the wall opposite hangs the mirror hiding the ghosts
of what could have been, staring back from within the recess of oval

by Michael Perry

CONFESSIONS OF AN OLD MAN PLANNING WHAT'S NEXT

to see him in the grip of his 62nd year
he is not much to look -at all
salt, pepper spread of hair, lines crisscrossed
everywhere-  a sign of his wear and tear

with his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose
he needs to get from here to there, his sight is a goner
if anyone came here right now, they could walk up to him
and be greeted by blind hands going haywire

he's been married several times, he loved each wife
at the time they were married, not sure what they would say
about him if they had a chance to tell their story in heaven
he hopes they would be kind, to outlive them all, such a shame

he's had a good life, lived longer than most, in these parts
he thinks contrition is a long walk to be made, with the time left
and his touch of black lung scar, taking hold, a reminder to reflect
on the tough years he's had, while providing for each wife in turn

he's not sure what happens next, there's no plans for that
so all he can do is sit and wait, and think about
each day, as he stares down death for as long as he can
for he wants to leave this earth on a clean slate

getting up from the chair it's a slow walk taking forever  across
the porch, turning the handle to the front door, realizing it's better
late then never, saying to no one listening, its been a long day for
planning next steps, better yet, he thinks there is always tomorrow

by Michael Perry