Monthly Archives: December 2011

2011 in review

The stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Syndey Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 14,000 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 5 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Temptation on the Trail

Over the edge hanging by four fingers
The pit of my being said let’s not linger
Adrenaline strength, but one finger was slipping
Salt in my eyes from the sweat that was dripping

Falling in slow motion my hand is grabbed tight
My feet start to slide as I fight for my life
Going down hard, rock’s cut open my knees
Then I stopped my slide when I grabbed a tree

He pulled me forward and I fell face down
Clutching the weeds, I was praising the ground
I thanked the stranger that saved me from dying
My tears mixed with sweat as I started crying

I finally get up and look down the dirt road
Thinking I’ll never stray and do as I’m told
No matter how great the temptation may be
I’ll look down at my leg and the scar on my knee

© 2011 Michael Yost 12/03

Great New Year

What do you have for me?
More layers of quilt to address?
Let me say goodbye to this old year;
After these sins I confess.

Looking forward to a blank new sheet
Gives me hope for a great new year
Let me turn the page of yesterday
With a mind that’s totally clear

Thinking you can weigh me down
Bringing up  past sins suits you fine
Nothing you can do will make me
Sit down hurt, wail and pine

So go your way straight to hell
There’s nothing for you here
My conscious is clean and ready
To start a great New Year

© 2011 Michael Yost

Shadows Cast

Trying to live out over what I’ve been
When the past keeps stepping on my tail
There’s no question of what I deserve
Or when my foot can lose the pail

But it’s the acceptance I must learn to bear
For the character of my long past
But Jesus is there who forgives and forgets
I’m thankful for because of my shadows cast

© 2011 Michael Yost


The cost of feeling this way is too much
I would have never invested knowing thus
My eyes have cried dry
I feel like I died
With my two legs gone and having one crutch

© 2011 Michael Yost

Haiku 13

Sand covered my face
Tumbling on the white warm beach
Clowning as I rolled

© 2011 Michael Yost

Only One

Only one broke the heart of the poet
Others only guess but my soul knows it
Sighs and regret being released from their lips
Are all stirred up, from that single courtship

Others may blur the bottom line
Tied with the one that they really pine
All these poems of rejection lie
Within these lines where my heart does cry


© 2011 Michael Yost

Where I’m Beckoned

Resting my eyes just for a second
I’m carried away, to where I’m beckoned
My face muscles fade, as I must rest
All the while my chin, finds my chest

What I’m doing is carried into my dream
So as not to alarm to what it seems
Reading and conversations seem to agree
If I still drove, surely death, would follow me

© 2011 Michael Yost

Senryu Forty Four

Pushing or pulling
Which one would you like to do
Neither, for me too

© 2011 Michael Yost

Weekends Were Precious

Wiping away moisture, the glass cries
Broken words our last and I ask why
Watching her fade into the distance
Knowing without her, there’ll be no existence

Everybody knows how special you are
Everybody sees that I do travel far
Everybody hears over  music, our fights
Everybody  sees me leave,  Sunday night

Wiping away the tears, I realize my fears
Broken bones, swerving, to miss the deer
Watching life fade into the distance
Knowing without me she’ll need an existence

© 2011 Michael Yost

The End of December

The words sound nice to me now
Just like all those who bow
Down on two knees seeking
With the excitement of the children peeking

The words sound good to me now
Just like the people who avow
The end of December is for the Birth’s celebration
With the joy of all the children professing

© 2011 Michael Yost

After Thoughts

It’s the peace and satisfaction after lovemaking
On the drive home you realize the day fell into the groove
The lack of elasticity after a long run
Or that sense of completion and calm after the bowels move

© 2011 Michael Yost

But They Were of You

Words of judgment’s flow
The room fills with accusations
Yes the turgid dreams were real
But they don’t deserve castration

© 2011 Michael Yost

Were There a Doubt

There’s no other reason, but because
The tale was told, none expected applause
You’ve breached the dam, the stories out
You shouldn’t have said were there a doubt

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth
You’re absolutely sure, what you say is the truth?
A man’s life hangs by some twisted threads
At the end of a rope he’ll surely swing dead

Bowing his head down, left with no hope
I heard the dirge wail after the creaking rope
Tears run rampant after the trap door falls
How does it feel hanging, on what you recall?

© 2011 Michael Yost

The Poetry Pantry

In the Glass I See

There in the glass I see a sixteen year old boy with an old man’s mask on.  I begin to notice the dark circles under the green eyes that sparkle; nothing dull yet; but his glasses do need cleaning.  I see white stubble and mustache with a two inch long goatee on his saddening face; like he’s had no reason to shave in the past few days.   Looking closer I see the goatee covers a weak double chin with a single wrinkle that goes down the length of his neck.  The same white stubble covers his shaved head to cover the thinning bald spot in the back and what’s left of his front hairline.
His round upturned nose reminds me of a Santa’s nose, but there’s a thin scar going diagonal from the left nostril to the top that makes his nose tilt to the right side of his face.  His cheekbones are set high, but it seems to highlight the dark circles more.  The ears are long and close to the head.
Wait a minute… he’s starting to smile with a broad grin and his eyes are lighting up and sparkling even more.  His whole face transforms and laughs a little with a tear rolling down his cheek and then is when I happily succumb to my fate realizing the old man is me and that my wrinkles are really my laugh lines.  My green eyes are still that of the sixteen year old from so many years ago… but they’re still with me today.

© 2011 Michael Yost

For FWF and Kellie Elmore, A self portrait

Mining Memories

Lavender and silk comes into my mind
Alone at night, where buried memories are mined
Breaking clumped thoughts through the sifting screen
Separating out the goodness from what is gleaned

Balancing scale’s weigh her with ingots golden
Leveling the best of her, shows I’m beholden
Her scent and sheer gown enhances her presence
While my soul and my love were her real presents

© 2011 Michael Yost

The Poetry Pantry

Two Thirds

I know you’ve seen my red eyes when I’ve cried
The smile on my face, when you’ve walked by
Or heard my voice tremble when I’ve spoken to you
Surely these things would have given a clue

You’re in a whirlwind with a love that’s unsettled
Just as I am and so far we both haven’t mettled
Given our hopes we both stoked our own fires
But our clocks still advance with unfulfilled desires

Writing these words, does bring some relief
Although the helping it does is only brief
I had to share these words, please know that they’re sincere
If you should need anything, I’ll always be here

©2011 Michael Yost

Alien Reconstruction

Welcome everybody to the introduction
Hopefully I’ll explain it all through my induction
Building a new existence through self seduction
There’s no time now for self destruction

Compiling the knowledge for instruction
Eliminating the extra work through deduction
Now it’s time to begin the inner construction
First finding all the hindering walls by deduction

Then knocking down all those obstructions
And leveling off all the reductions
Finishing my new existence by conduction
Forgetting the time of the alien abduction

© 2011 Michael Yost

Our Glass of Sand (revised)

Pushing on past time and space
Touched by fire with her radiant embrace
Chest to breast, hearts synced in a race
Never ever wanting, to leave this place

Scent of her hair ear, lobe cool to the touch
Loins rushing red, our lips about to brush
Breathe quickened now, soon to combust
These feelings must not only, be given to lust

Fingers running down, her arms to her hands
Our eyes locked in smile, lingering in stand
We were almost part of something banned
As time stood still for a moment, in our glass of sand


©2011 Michael Yost