Monthly Archives: November 2011

Haiku 12

Golden leaves shimmer
The black river summons you
Flowing towards full moon

© 2011 Michael Yost


The keyboard laying flat between my hands
Little fingers raising the lower edge
Tactile dots under my index finger tips
ESC and CTRL are within my fingers reach

© 2011 Michael Yost

Then There was One

You took away trusting of others,
What faith we had in all our brothers
Now we’re locking doors, within our home
And killing lice from a fine toothed comb

© 2011 Michael Yost

Mom Warned Me

Didn’t give you much of a chance
Nor did you hold up much of a stance
Being a single mother since I was less than one
And I being the only and youngest son

My salvation was your greatest concern
At eleven I gave my heart so I wouldn’t burn
Decades later I still know I’m saved
But you wouldn’t know it in how I behaved

You would suggest behavior in all that I did
Very few things did you ever forbid
Out of respect I followed most of the time
Never really caught when I did the crime

Next milestone was at the age of thirteen
The year I was no longer green
Lost innocence under the green porch light
She was twenty five and my mother was mostly right

Changed my life’s path for good and for sure
Some would say I was no longer pure
Could or would, knowing I couldn’t change a thing
Even going from a tenor to baritone when I sing


© 2011 Michael Yost

Jingle Poetry At The Gooseberry Garden

Jingle Poetry At The Gooseberry Garden, A Place for Poets To Share and Get Inspired!

The Poetry Pantry

Ninety Nine

Numbers on a blank paper
People mulling in the crowds
Enjoined with different goals
Wondering what to do now

Words broken on our backs
The speeches dispersing vapors
Monkeys clap the cymbals
Who runs the news papers?

Weather may break the spirit
Unresponsive politicos too
Fragile lines of their union
Ninety nine percent, too few

© 2011 Michael Yost

Punishment Two Fold

No finger can touch the feelings not met
Casting holds them from further breaking
Pain and shame should have cleared my foolhardy debt
Oh but to find a stick, to scratch the itch,
By twisting and snaking

© 2011 Michael Yost