First,
I strive for beauty
I wait for the bell to chime
the lightning to strike

Today, it seems,
the skies are clear
those chimes of midnight
are silenced
they boycott my breath
heap ash on the urgency of ringing
and leave me dizzy
in my decline.

But if the past
truly is prologue
it will all come round again.

Language will make its magic.
Sweetness will ooze from
the open wound
of my heart.

There will be words
in the order and rhythm
in which they were intended.

And poetry will breathe yet again.

LATE SUMMERS APPLE- a Haiku

late summers apple
fallen, over ripe exposed    
to the core, a worm

by Michael Perry

WATER BIRDS- a Haiku

the water birds gather
wading in dark ponds moon lit  
skittish fish, frogs hide

by Michael Perry

GETTING A GRIP

the air is stifling, no movement
no sound, the last of the cicadas
back underground, all around me
an uneasiness profound, i live
i breathe, in stilted stutters, like
a fish out of water i grasp and
claw at the thick air that surrounds
as my heart leaps and pounds, and
then the  softest of a breeze, if
you could call it that, comes
meekly around, but its enough
just enough to calm me down

by Michael Perry

across the log
as graceful as a dancer...


rising out of the water
jeans and blue t-shirt
like a weighted blanket

muddied and wet
the girl of the lake
delighting in the fall

the playful eyes
that wild in her smile                               

(I too
knew that smile
intimately
once
and dreams were plentiful
as the songs
that kept me alive

but the wind walks
a singular path
through the tall grass
surrounding lakes

a thief tip-toeing into another day)

You are allowed to wake up
and still dream..

like how you allow yourself
to die
and still breathe.