Monthly Archives: April 2011

Clocking Rewards

Before too long has gone, too far away
You showed to me why heaven has delays
Being thankful for what mystery does weigh
In getting what it serves to obey

© 2011 Michael Yost

Seem of a Dream

Caught between the seem of a dream
On the folly of new moon beams
Wished and waned wistfully away
With hope, redeems on a new day

© 2011 Michael Yost

The Poetry Pantry

First Part of the Morning Ritual (The Wonders of TP)

Blow it strong and long in the morn

Reverse twist to get the last bits

If you get a squeaky inhale

Dig it out with your pinky nail

© 2011 Michael Yost

The Poetry Pantry

The Poetry Pantry Is Now Open! #45

Give you the remote?

What can I do for you?
Hot Stone massage?
Suckle your toes?
Maybe wash your hair?
Read to you love poems all night?
Put Norah Jones on the record player?

If not spoken, I am your instrument of pleasure.

© 2011 Michael Yost


Love’s Affirm and Lament

Of thee I do write, these words to ponder
No one for me who’s no less a wonder
Cry in your absence, laugh when you’re near
If you ever leave, is my greatest fear

© 2011 Michael Yost

Why Do You Pay

The price we pay to stay in grace

Is not the cost already placed?

Upon the man who won the race

For us to meet him face to face

© 2011 Michael Yost

Old Habit, New Appliance

Here to tell you something new for me
My new favorite appliance is now the TV
It used to be the blender for parties
No longer the case, I’m sober you see

I am watching two shows once twice a week
The rest of time I’m to busy to peek
It used to be all day when I was weak
I have time now for other things to seek

© 2011 Michael Yost


Golden Ones

The older we begin to see form
How the calm comes in after storms
Balances and patterns hammer out
Prayers are being answered to the devout

The water ebbs back after the crests
Sun’s setting is always in the west
You can never add too much to stew
Old lives are multiplied by the new

© 2011 Michael Yost


Including the Crumbs

Some passerby’s smiled nervously; most avoided eyes and looked down; both left you with an unseated welcome. As it happened to be, the young couple with baby was standing up. Their car overheated towing a small picketed trailer that carried all their personal belongings, not including any large appliances.

Thomas, Betty and baby Sarah were locked out; factories closed and were forced to move on west to California. Homeless, Hungry, and hurting; Sarah only had 3 diapers left but without some food soon, the diapers weren’t going to be needed.

They were broke down downtown in a small town, called Dairy town, with no milking cows or any other kind of animals anywhere to be seen coming into the place. The world was just being swallowed whole and these poor people were nothing but crumbs left on the table cloth.

Betty sat down on the curb holding Sarah when both started to cry. Thomas didn’t see who started first, but they both could have had the same pang of hunger as he did as the Bakery opened its doors right behind them. Ginger the baker’s wife seen the situation, went inside and came back out with a loaf of warm sliced bread, butter and coffee. She sat right down on the curb next to Betty, introduced herself and asked if the baby had a bottle. Thomas went to the car, grabbed the bottle from the back seat and Ginger was already at his heels asking if powered milk was ok and both of them said yes immediately.

Sarah was finally settled drinking her bottled milk; Ginger began talking about the mad cow disease wiping out the dairy and other cattle very quickly. Then she mentioned how Butch, her husband had been the town’s butcher but had to start baking to make an income.

Betty was about to shake the crumbs from her napkin, but Ginger physically stopped her and told her that around here we save everything now days, including the crumbs.

© 2011 Michael Yost

It’s Just One More

Disassociation flutters in your brain
Suddenly you’re outside your main frame
Flow grabbing at one side or another
Gasping for any air soon to smother

Anxiety rips you at the very core
The raven screams out to you nevermore
Your balance is slipping the high wire walk
Looking around everyone of you gawk

Falling to one knee you swallow your heart
Grabbing your chest your breathe fighting to start
Raising your head with a guttural scream
Calm returning the tears begins to stream

One breathe, then two, you ascend a hand hold
Your hands to your face it’s sweating and cold
The worse is over senses returning
Light another cigarette not learning

© 2011 Michael Yost


What’s YOUR Four am Like?

It’s 4am on a Tuesday
The regular crowd shuffles in
I sit alone at my computer
Wishing I had some Tonic and Gin

Been sober now for so long
The urge just goes away
Where did my dam cigarettes go
One habit that had to stay

Turned on Winamp to play a melody
There’s a song I don’t know how it goes
Bout some piano player thought a poet
And i thought I was the poet but
I guess I’ll just eat some dam crow.

© 2011 Michael Yost

Worth the Girth?

Passion peaks for myriads
plus possible paternalists pray
just prior to pending periods.
Oh my, such a price to pay.

© 2011 Michael Yost

THe Poetry Pantry Is Now Open! – #44

I Am a Rock*

Simon and Garfunkel

A winter’s day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I’ve built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Don’t talk of love,
But I’ve heard the words before;
It’s sleeping in my memory.
I won’t disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

*Simon And Garfunkel  “I Am A Rock Lyrics”  Released Spring of 1966

To some of us the, “ The Poet’s Anthem”

Whispering Seduction


Whispering walls, murmurs of love
Nestling shoulders, cooing of doves
Hearing faint words, loves instruction
Passionate pleas, spells seduction

© 2011 Michael Yost

Politaker or Poligiver

Do you ever know a politicians heart;
Or the motivation behind an upstart?
The sooner you find out what sets them apart;
The quicker you know how to get them to part.

© 2011 Michael Yost

Lace Disgrace

Frozen Veil

Pearl like dew drops roll down the lace
White veil lay at their last embrace
Conviction reigned and ran away
Endowments price too much to pay

© 2011 Michael Yost

Last Hit*

Passing the pipe, “yo ere” he strained
Handing it over, his face was pained
He let go, whoosh, coughing bright red
Thought I’d seen him, in Santa’s sled

I shook it off, took a hit too
Didn’t hold it long, it came out blue
Out of the night, lights came up fast
Siren blasting, he went right past

So scared I pissed, right in my pants
Fred turning red, in a great rant
He cursed the cop, for going right past
I smiled; we had run out of gas

© 2011 Michael Yost
*over 30 years ago

Again and Again Too

“The words have already been written.

What’s to write down anymore he wrote?

Who tells an interesting story?”

Iterating again he spoke

“The words have already been written.

What’s to write down anymore he wrote?

Who tells an interesting story?

Let’s see some new anecdotes.”

© 2011 Michael Yost

Poetry Potluck

The Willow

The Willow Three

Admire the willow stretching to outreach
The wind and its force trying to rent and breach
Its hold in mother earth anchored so deep
Still some leaves fall appearing to weep

© 2011 Michael Yost

Bleeping Sheep Don’t Always Leap

Heeding the call to fall asleep

Unaware soon, anguish now seeps

Still in my dreams I cry and weep

Over the love I no longer keep

© 2011 Michael Yost

Balloons Life


Once tightened and taunt string unravels
Now light and buoyant you start your travels

Controlled more by the lift than the wind
Equal you begin to skirt and spin

Going with the flow the string starts to drag
Finally failing caught on a snag

© 2011 Michael Yost

The Nursery

Spring time is for new life or is it for raking under the freshly dead?
There’s a little life left in the dead for the seedling to suck dry into dust.
The sad tidings are the seedlings are forced to use failed DNA and imprints.
One root after another hitting rock bottom again; more shallow every season.

Maybe a brittle snap of winter will return, supplying more dead for yet newer life.
Some who are perfect escapes the nursery, being transplanted into a new environment.
The fresher soil still steams with nitrogen and oxygen flooding into their roots with new life.
No one knows their fate as the shovels begin to turn the rest of us under again into the void.

© 2011 Michael Yost

Thursday Poet Rally

If there’s a will….

What say you my old friend, my pen?

You’ve seen my prized love letters.

Tear stained port to port letters from the sea.

Struggling through my inventories.


Words scattered here and there as a young poet.

They said I had great talent but didn’t know it.

My well-intended to do lists never to be done.

More tossed away promises than one hundred politicians.


Now after our many trials and transfusions it’s time.

It’s time to reveal the desires of my heart and where it should go.

The tea kettle is whistling; it’s time to warm your ink and my soul.

I, Michael Yost, being of sound mental health and of contractual capacity..

©2011 Michael Yost

They’re all passed away and gone.


They’re all passed away and gone.

My dexterity is gone as well as I scribble these words down.

Who will read these scribbled thoughts?

They’re all passed away and gone.

Some may have survived, but it’s been two years and I’ve seen no one.

Didn’t Rod Sterling predict something like this would happen?

They’re all passed away and gone.

I miss the meal times and the conversations over a class of wine.

How will I survive now that all these canned goods have gone bad?

They’re all passed away and gone.

Hearing the birds sing and the occasional dog barking has stopped.

I wonder why they were the first to die off; the animals I mean?

They’re all passed away and gone.

The wind still blows to the east and the fires I set might cleanse all the dead.

It makes sense doesn’t it; everything is dead and nothing grows; what can it hurt?

They’re all passed away and gone.

I was lucky to find these pills, Morphine Sulfate 200 MG SR TAB, I think I have enough.

500 ought to do it; don’t you think?

© 2011 Michael Yost

Rolling Remnants

Crust rolling up under her fingers

Remnants of last nights dried tears

The table was still set

And the guests had all left

Nothing stood up, but warm beers


Not minding to wait when it’s early

Hate minding to wait when it’s late

Crushed when both lasted forever

Two times for the same date


© 2011 Michael Yost