That’s Pete and myself 20 years ago.
Today I walked the rail alone, because Pete had to ride.
It was a beautiful coach and everything;
He always looked his best in his dress blues.
It was a beautiful spring morning then too.
The ground was soft that morning and fruitful;
The worms we got were huge and the trout ate em up.
Almost as big as the ones crawling out from under that tarp.
I brought this picture today to remember important things.
Pete’s sacrifice is obvious and full of meaning.
What’s not so obvious is that
Pete greased the last three feet of that rail.
©2011 Michael Yost 01/14
Pete is everyone’s brother, son and father
up.the.anteater@gmail.com
They met last month at a U2 concert
Then three shy dates introverting
Both codependants fear of being hurt
Hopes that the other would assert
Their taste in music opened new hope
In unique and sealed envelopes
Invitations stopped plans to elope
Dad watches them through his telescope
Her backyard swings gave hours of pleasure
With limits placed by Dad for leisure
What he’s losing is his own treasure
Hardening her heart with no measure
© 2015 Michael Yost 12/15
Posted in Poetry
Tagged Anger, Anxiety, Blame, children, Choices, Consequences, Michael Yost, Tasting Music, Writing
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
That’s Pete and myself 20 years ago.
Today I walked the rail alone, because Pete had to ride.
It was a beautiful coach and everything;
He always looked his best in his dress blues.
It was a beautiful spring morning then too.
The ground was soft that morning and fruitful;
The worms we got were huge and the trout ate em up.
Almost as big as the ones crawling out from under that tarp.
I brought this picture today to remember important things.
Pete’s sacrifice is obvious and full of meaning.
What’s not so obvious is that
Pete greased the last three feet of that rail.
© 2011 Michael Yost 04/23
Pete could be everyone’s brother, son and father
booguloo@live.com
booguloo.wordpress.com
Posted in Poetry
Tagged Anger, Anxiety, Blame, children, Choices, Confusion, Consequences, Crying, Death, Deception, Dreams, Expectations, Michael Yost, Poetry
The sun kissed her cheeks
And danced in her eyes
Pulling the swings rope
With hopes she would fly
Disappointed she jumped
High up in the air
Landing on her feet
Like a cat you’d swear
She built wings to wear
To jump off the swing
She gained a few feet
I heard her heart sing
© 2012 Michael 01/06
Posted in Poetry
Tagged children, Consequences, Heart Singing, Imagination, Michael Yost, Swings to Wings
Left behind to play with himself
Finding a puzzle he might solve
All the other kids went ahead
When they seen him often they fled
He was a normal and quiet boy
Mother was poor not many toys
Father had left for some reason
Mother mumbled about treason
Left alone too while mother worked
She told him uptown a store clerk
Some boy’s drunken dad let it out
He saw his mom whoring about
Grew up stronger and tougher too
Came up alone fought quite a few
Signed up Marines a paradox
A dad for sad until the pine box
© 2011 Michael Yost 05/11
Posted in Poetry
Tagged Anxiety, betrayal, children, Choices, Consequences, Depression, Dreams, Faith, Friendship, God, Love, Michael Yost, Mom Warned Me, Pain, Poetry, Salvation, Virginity, Wonder, Writing. Bookmark the
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 11/04
Posted in Poetry
Tagged Anxiety, betrayal, children, Choices, Consequences, Depression, Dreams, Faith, Friendship, God, Love, Michael Yost, Mom Warned Me, Pain, Poetry, Salvation, Virginity, Wonder, Writing
Your worn words and intentions fade away
As you’ve spun more tired rhymes to sway
Forgotten lies begot more lies crowning
The children cry; our forgotten blessings
Keeping your reach cold but for when loins join
Even the man on the street gains his coins
Elevating your head above the clouds
You no longer hear, see or smell seed sowed
Your children need to understand you first
In order to know why they feel so cursed
With the deep sins of their father immersed
Your children do them easily rehearsed
Knowing better the proof held underneath
Giving the children the chance for the wreath
Children forgiving fathers for their sake
Hoping to nullify their mistakes
© 2013 Michael Yost 06/30
Word whispered out, “It’s on tonight.”
Warriors rounded into one
Lightest armor and weapons chose
Into evening we would run
King and men flanked ridges around
Insuring foe’s defeat
Queen and court made ready for fight
Stockpiling bastions for retreat
Advancing slow on sleeping foes
Ice water soon to break
Projectiles at the ready
Balloons will abruptly awake
© 2011 Michael Yost
Why do we skate these reindeer games
Has the snow and ice frozen your brains
Think I’ll forget now it’s turned to rain
Slipping on the black ice with new pain
Lies opened your exotic drawer
Red teddies and strings are less for more
Speeding towards a climatic score
Let the music play on, skate and soar
Posted in Poetry
Tagged children, Choices, Consequences, Dreams, Embrace, Expectations, Friendship, Love, Michael Yost, Poetry
It is a matter of fact
We all have needs to attract
Now getting older we act
We strut for mutual contract
Now she forwards turgid fronts
Tight zippers bearing the brunt
Baring their prize for her hunt
She passed ignoring their stunt
© 1915 Michael Yost 04/24
Posted in Poetry
Tagged children, Choices, Consequences, Embrace, Expectations, Love, Michael Yost, Sexuality, Writing
Picking at the wound from before
Scraping the scabs off unhealed sores
Fingernail filth mingles with blood
Making for a red colored mud
New skin around the edge starting repair
Begins to bleed slowly from the new tear
One scab left hanging by newly grown skin
Quick rip by the teeth it’s a salty raisin
Tonguing the wound till it stops bleeding
Starting the process over just like seeding
Collecting the raisins for the tin can
Putting them down the girl’s shirts is the plan
*© 2011 Michael Yost 06/28
*A friend of a friend did this in grade school.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged children, Choices, Consequences, Friendship, Gross, Health, Humor, Mental Health, Salty Raisins, Scabs, Time
Like the song, I ask where have all the flowers gone.
Where are the people that were part of my life growing
up as a babe and young boy?
I know the answer; they have slipped away into a memory
I have the memories, deep memories, I should be happy.
Next the teenage years and a lot of the same people are
there; but there’s new ones too. They were priming me
for the new adult life and the first loves of a teen. It was
happy anxiety. Those people and the girls have all slipped
away into memories. I have the memories, deep memories,
I should be happy.
As a young man the 7 seas were going to be my home and I married a young lady to keep my house. We had one child and finally four growing up and out of the home. They all have a wife and a husband of their own. Those children raised me! The wife and I drew apart and the family all slipped away into memories. I have the memories, deep memories, I should be happy.
Aging as people do, I found a few friends; the kids were
all far away and I turned to writing as an outlet. Nothing
was ever published, but that didn’t matter; the writing
was for my benefit, no one else’s. One day the Doctor
told me I would soon lose my memories and after a
while I would finally die. So now I write even more of my
memories, so I can remember them; so I should be happy.
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/7
Posted in Poetry
Tagged Anxiety, children, Choices, Consequences, Death, Fear, First Love, Friendship, God, Happy Anxiety, Lonliness, Love, Melancholy, Memorie, Mental Health, Michael Yost, My Benefit, Poetry, Sadness, Slipped Away;, Wonder
Growing older shortens time
The sun and shovels blister
Dead Men’s Chest off key’s a crime
Dying is lifetime’s closure
This is not the bitter end
The wheelhouse rolls with raves
And the main sail billow sends
Helped pushed and pulled by waves
The dead men told no tales
And those who danced with Jack Ketch
Or went for Moby Dick the whale
Anything else was another stretch
© 2014 Michael Yost 05/13
Posted in Poetry
Tagged Anxiety, betrayal, children, Choices, Consequences, Dreams, Fear, Friendship, God, Michael Yost
That’s Pete and myself 20 years ago.
Today I walked the rail alone, because Pete had to ride.
It was a beautiful coach and everything;
He always looked his best in his dress blues.
It was a beautiful spring morning then too.
The ground was soft that morning and fruitful;
The worms we got were huge and the trout ate em up.
Almost as big as the ones crawling out from under that tarp.
I brought this picture today to remember important things.
Pete’s sacrifice is obvious and full of meaning.
What’s not so obvious is that
Pete greased the last three feet of that rail.
© 2011 Michael Yost
Pete is everyone’s brother, son and father
Posted in Free Verse
Tagged children, Choices, Consequences, Crying, Death, Depression, Embrace, Faith, Fear, Friendship, Lonliness, Love, Melancholy, Michael Yost, Returning Marine
Michael's Lair 