Michael Stefan

Michael Stefan Jun 2020

One hand gripped some yellow seeds-
The other, seeds stained red
One seed would grow up ****-
The other grows sweet instead

Each fruit would make a lovely juice
That bursts with intense flavor
Despite the ****, to spite the sweet-
Little treats we each would savor

Baked and burned and fricasseed
And placed in ornate wrappings-
Then placed upon a grocery shelf
In boxes of lavish trappings

Don't you see, my sweet-
Finding love is like eating candy?
You open wide and take a bite
To discover lemons **** or cherries dandy

This is my whimsical take on the sweet and sour aspects of love. Love in full bloom is indulgent and refreshing. But we all fear the downswing when loving someone leaves us open to the possibility of hurt. I wanted to craft an almost singsong rhyme about the joys (and sometimes fears) of discovering love.

Michael Stefan Jun 2020

what you need

like car horns, raucous evenings
they pick pick pick at your patience
"What you need is a little therapy!"
exclaimed through gritted teeth
and southern witty rejoinders
"What you need is to drink water!"
water heals all wounds,
of the head, of the heart, of the soul
"What you need is a little motivation!"
my seeds of apple and cherry grew-
but no motivation trees left in sight
if only the Lorax could see this forest now
all the motivation, water, and therapy trees-
now extinct
so my blanket of friendship
will simply have to do;
a warm cup of kindness,
a passionate phone call,
and those moments when you reconnect

friendship is what you need

I recently reconnected with a friend who listened to a lot of my woes over the last year and told me about his. We talked about football, economics, and societal philosophies. Sometimes it's just that good friend that gives you the pick up you need when everyone else tries to impose their own remedies on you.

Michael Stefan Jun 2020

delicate

she was made
of tender things;
treads of gold,
and silvered strings,
with little bones
and broken wings,
buttons, pins,
and rusty springs
~
her mind was filled
with little dreams;
to be a queen,
a crown to gleam,
a rainbow bridge
out into space,
a quiet room
to hide her face
~
too delicate
for this world;
a tiny bed,
with a tiny girl,
who's window felt
like iron bars,
so she left her body
and went to the stars
~
no longer small,
no longer frail,
no longer sadness,
and wicked tales,
out in the stars
she burns so bright,
a golden glimmer
lights up the night

I am tearing up writing this. This is a dedication to a friend who struggled to the very end. I like to believe she won even though she isn't with us anymore.

Michael Stefan Jun 2020

Watching the Fade

The landscape
slips off
in the distance

Steep plummets
of steel stones
and broken shells

Swirling mists
fading into
unnatural light

A touching chill
falling over
rocky beaches

A folded chair
on well-worn path

Facing East
into the mists
and steepest cliff

We all watch
the end
of the world
as chamomile
and honey
draw us
into the fade

I wanted to create something mysterious and dark that spoke of the ephemeral nature of life as we sit and watch the cliffs along a rocky coast. The imagery for this poem came from a trip I took to Maine and sat on a cliff one morning in the misty fading Autumn. It was truly spooky and truly beautiful.

Michael Stefan Jun 2020

Two Tales of Love

Brick it in                                                       Set it free
Burn it down                                           Watch it grow
Hold it tight                                       Release your grip
Bind it                                                                 Find it
Never again                                              Until Forever

Passion and fury sometimes burn just as brightly in the world of love as nurturing and caring. We all live a duality in both columns from time to time.