The darkness is sung to stars
as the troubadour calmly brings
the night into existence.

Whispered mists fall from his
parted lips, leaving behind
a sullen coolness that chases warmth.

Nimble fingers fling far and wide
the crystal stars causing a
shower of shattered and fractured light.

The darkness slides across the sky
as the troubadour's eyes slowly close
showing gaudy color and heavy lashes.

Tone on tone, and line on line
the darkness is sung - deep and dark,
showing the heart of the lonely clown.

At last, the song is complete and the
stars abound - silence befalls the chilled
display as the troubadour sighs, then sleeps.


© 2008 Michael Hunter

I have found a new companion to take my morning coffee with.
He’s sharp and very observant – and he’s honest.
So honest, in fact, that I’m often stunned into reflection and reverie.

Mr. Whitman’s words coax from me a surprising intensity of feeling and joy,
and at the same time, cause me to have to pause and write unknown words
in my notebook, to be discovered later.

Walt is a most engaging fellow.
I picture his halo of white unruly hair and beard,
and understand more what he means as he
‘… Sounds his barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world!’

My coffee grows cold as I am swept away by his snap-shot catalogues of life around him.
I sit breathless at the end of these lists – feeling as though I’ve only just arrived
after a long journey abroad!

And then his wisdom and gentle heart speak to my soul and takes away my protective wall.
He speaks of ‘god-like’ man,
‘… Whose human mind is but a gem in black decay enshrined.’

I weep to find such a companion of my heart.
A friend who keeps me company in the dark morning hours as my coffee slowly cools.

© 2012 Michael Hunter

Barren halls, devoid of children
echo with the ghostly staccato of gunfire
and the mockingly musical tinkling of spent brass.

Specters of children set free through violence
mutely stand vigil over stained tile and carpet,
shocked by their sudden transition.

Parents, siblings, grandparents and family reel
from the sudden void caused by the senseless
and cowardly actions of a 2nd Amendment zealot’s son.

Christmas presents without recipients sit untouched
in secret places – never to light up the eyes
and faces of eager and happy children.

Flags fly in solemn respect at half-staff
signifying a nation in mourning, yet a nation
so reluctant to address the core of these issues
which have made these crimes so common-place.

Bumbling and incompetent politicians – securely
in the NRA’s and gun-lobby’s pocket are quick to *****
the party lines: “Guns don’t **** people.” “My fork and knife made me fat.”

All the while the mentally tormented and dangerous
continue to take up arms and slaughter innocents –
as apparently their constitutional rights are more sacred
than the life of a first-grader.

How long America, will you dip your pens in the blood of children
and write the laws that take their lives?

How long America, will you wrap yourself in a blood-stained flag
and spew the toxic and hateful lie that guns don’t **** people?

How many more must bleed your ink and feed your mill
before we cry, “enough is enough!!”?

© 2012 Michael Hunter

I will burn my ships when on my new-found shore I stand.
I will ne’er turn back and seek the comfort of my familiar or my safety.
No, I will burn my ships!

I will hold my head high and face my unknown challenges with heart,
and a mind of steel determination.
I cannot retreat to cooling embers and frigid coals.

New experiences, strangers to court to friends,
overwhelming newness and uncertain expectations –
all await the touch and expert hand of this self-stranded man.

Yes, I will burn my ships when on my new-found shore I stand!
My past success is smoke and ash! And where comfort and status quo once held sway,
a new bewitching future extends her sturdy hand.


© 2012 Michael Hunter
November 18, 2012

Snow on frosted maples
melts in drops like tears;
tears which fall in silent
weeping for our fallen children.

The cold and dying season
has seen the passing of more
than russet leaves and
southward-winging birds.

The children too, have flown
and left behind this frozen home
where so much pain and grief
are all that mark their passing.

Silence greets their homes on Christmas morn’;
where families with hollow eyes and broken hearts
unwrap the un-given gifts
and rasp out the unanswerable, “Why?”

Through the long dark nights of winter
a mother will stand watch over
an empty bed, an empty room,
while praying that this cold would one day end.

Frost on new-turned earth,
where lies a fallen child,
cradled in the good earth’s *****
awaiting the thaw of snow on frosted maples.



©2012 Michael Hunter

Time makes no concession for me,
nor does it care that I am fighting its relentless forward march.

Try as I might to ‘be in the moment’,
it seems to me that as soon as I am aware of that moment,
it has passed me by and I am wondering what I may have missed!

Each day I awake and am stunned that I am already getting up for yet another week of work, when it seems like the much-longed-for-Friday had just arrived!

I share my experiences with friends and co-workers
and suddenly realize that I am speaking of events which are twenty years past –
though they feel as if they are of newer stuff.

I begin to see the march of time played out on the faces of the famous and the popular and,
either refuse to see it in my own face,
or I am looking at myself through rose-tinted glasses.

A graying beard and salt-n-pepper where dark brown was so prominent are the only signs I’m aging!
I don’t have wrinkles, and my chin is still that: SINGULAR,
And while I was never muscular, I can still see definition in my frame,
in spite of my growing paunch.

But I AM getting older.
My body – the unseen parts – my bones, joints, brain, vision, and yes, memory
are all beginning to make the change that tells me I am in the beginning of decline,
and can anticipate the autumn of my life.
I am getting older.

Time does not pity me – nor does it seem to even notice I am here.
I try to redeem the time, because I know that MY time is fleeting,
but I find that I am continually being passed by the sands flowing through this mortal hour glass!

But wait – aging isn’t dying!
Getting older doesn’t mean getting worse!
Would I rewind my days and relive the moments of my life? Never!
I am a much better man as I am!
I am a much wiser man at this time of life!
I am a much kinder man, and a more caring man than ever I was before!

Would I dare to trade who I have earned the right to be
for one more decade, one year, one month, or day? No!
I have paid the price for my gray hair and my mellowed heart and peaceful mind.
I would not cast these gifts upon the tide of time and ages
and force myself to pay the price already paid.

I will age.
Time will continue, and I will redeem my hours as I may
and not lament the moments which pass me by.
Instead, I will capture those moments with pen and paper,
and I’ll hold them captive on a page,
and thereby live forever!


© 2012 by Michael Hunter

All I want for Christmas is to see the twenty-fifth.
If I’m being really honest, it’s my biggest Christmas wish!

The Mayans and the Hopis all predict our end is near,
They have made my season, so far, quite devoid of Christmas cheer!

If I could have my heart’s wish, and have it truly come to pass,
The world would keep on turning through its celestial, star-filled path!

Mankind would end its fighting and its cruelness to our earth,
And find some way in daily life to put each other first!

We’d set aside our differences, and all our cults and creeds,
And focus on the surest way to relieve the world’s needs!

We’d make sure every baby, every child, and every man
Was honored and respected in every culture ‘cross the land!

But if it’s true, and life will end as ancient people said,
And all of this won’t come to pass because we’ll all be dead,

Then there’s no harm in starting NOW and doing what we can,
To help improve the earth and skies and love our fellow man!

For just one day, and then the next, and so forth, on and on,
If we can love our earth and kin, a whole new world will dawn!

So Santa, maybe I misspoke on what my wish would be.
I’d rather have a peace-filled world and have it start with me!


Peace on earth, good will to men.


© 2012 Michael Hunter