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Michael Vacek Poem
He walked into my office, business in hand,
In denim baggy overalls, a plaid shirt, white painters cap,
and grandpa's old white leather orthopedic shoes.
If I ever get to the ripe old age of 88,
I want to be this lone wolf silhouette of a man.
A slow gait with frailty of movement.
Each step carefully orchestrated and contemplated.
Making one worry the next may become a fall.
But he moves on without even a stumble.
Steadfast stature and posture braced on any lowly perch.
Outer coat showing gaps of missing muscle and mass.
Paws and face forlornly exposed with past battles scorned.
All affairs in perfect order, the next move oft anticipated.
Irises glossy white shadowed with blue wisdom and mystery.
Draped with curtains and folds boldly saying "I am."
Negotiations begin with silence in wait of movement.
Tail wagging intently, teeth exposed only when he smiles.
No bite to his bark, he needn't growl nor gnarl.
Few words, saying only what needs to be heard.
Walking away after a handshake, flash of teeth, and a wink.
09/12/17
Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2017
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Michael Vacek Poem
This poem may get into trouble,
The world wants identity double.
Attempting to culture commonality,
The world champions individuality.
Theft of language has become all too common,
Yesterday’s use today identifies one a strawman.
Definitions change, words take on other meaning,
Often toward groups one way leaning.
At our language different groups continually hack.
In the case of *****, African American, now Black.
Or European, White, then Caucasian,
Korean American, Indian, rather than Asian.
Why is it that unmentionable words,
You know them, our dialect’s turds.
The use of people demeaned still proliferates,
While outsiders use carry’s different weights?
Color, religion, disability, sex, and age,
All lines in the sand drawn to disparage.
We should agree that race be set aside,
Bound together in one Human pride?
Our world needs new words and labels,
Not old words containing past fables.
Words that create, unite, and rejoin,
Not words that change on the flip of a coin.
Straight should mean unbent?
Snowflake should be heaven sent.
Gay should be a happy feeling.
Black’s big “B” should begin peeling.
I applaud the generation of Ze.
The neutral meaning of he or she.
A word with definition created anew.
A word defining both me and you.
8/31/2017
Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2017
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Michael Vacek Poem
I have become the tree, perched on a limb,
Bow in hand, camouflaged grey, black, and brown.
Looking with my eyes, not moving my brim,
Detecting movement, the forest slows down.
Suddenly, a flicker of ear and tail,
Flashes in the sun entering my view.
Deer browsing, eyes darting, heads bob, ears flail,
Squirrel climbs near, my position askew.
Chattering loudly, bushy tail thrashing,
Alerting of danger for all to hear.
Blue jay flies in and joins with jeers lashing,
Deer, with a flick of the flag, disappear.
Why can't humans communicate so well,
Spanning differences, on earth where we dwell?
10/11/2017
Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2017
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Michael Vacek Poem
Surrounded by seven cherubs of cheer,
Just recently passing my 100th year,
I’ve been standing here on this perch,
In Little Falls, MN’s Our Lady of Lourdes church.
Most of the day I’m alone simply pining away,
Surrounded by stained glass scenes of yesterday.
Watching glorious beams of color jump left to right,
As east to west the Sun travels ever so bright.
Mostly alone with a visitor or two,
One of my favorites is when you are in view.
You study my features with such wonder and awe,
I can see deep within, you are on your last straw.
Walking in with face down slowly plodding as one,
Genuflecting with pain in respect of my Son.
Shuffling into the pew, your body sulking and sits.
Looking up at me, into my eyes, your stare hits.
I wish I could reach out and hold you in my arms,
Wrapped in my blue cloak, protecting you from harms,
Rocking your fears away, with a simple motherly sway,
Breathing into you new life, taking away all your strife.
Times like these you need, comfort and touch,
I thank God above for others providing so much.
It is now that I listen for, the eery creak of the door.
For a heavenly sent friend, to cradle you until the end.
Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2017
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Michael Vacek Poem
Asleep before the head hits the pillow
Head filled with vivid colors swirling, amassing, mixing outside the lines
Transgressions grow skyward like a bean stalk becoming a giant
Worries wander aimlessly like a cat in the night looking for a spoon
Hurts pound again, and again, first a drumstick then a sledge hammer
The kaleidoscope of confusion rotates ever faster, bed spins counter
Places cannot be escaped
Faces stare as if clothes have been robbed
Running, Flying, Drowning, Suffocating, Garbling Words, Can’t Breath,
Slow Motion, Falling, Insatiable Hunger, Unquenchable Thirst, Blood Stained, Shouting
Loaded Down, Frantically Searching Pockets, Hidden Underneath, Forgotten
Fear. All fears. Nothing but fear. Afraid. Regret. Worry. I didn’t. I really did!
Each day we pack our pockets. Cram our purses. Load our backpacks
Hang needless objects and things around our necks, over our shoulders, in the crux of our elbows, on our belts
Grip suitcases. Carry stuffed plastic grocery bags on each knuckle. Waddling to the side of the bed before crashing head on
Unknowingly still pinching the key between our left thumb and pointer finger
Hitting the bed with a massive crash
every part of the day strewn around the room like a devastating mid air explosion of a 747 littering debris, miles and miles of destruction, charred remnants, unidentifiable and randomly placed objects, out of place, disfigured, often never found
Before your head hits the pillow
Drop the things you picked up today
Take a load off
Free yourself of your burdens
Neatly set everything aside
On second thought, just pile it and let it lay where it falls
Drop your yoke
Sit down on the foot of the bed with God
Hand Him the things you still cling within sweating red fists
Briefly Examen your day
Fall asleep on His shoulder
He will gently lay your head on the pillow, loft your feet off the floor, and tuck you in.
Let Him carry your burdens, lighten your load, unpack, empty your pockets, wash your laundry, even sort and match the socks.
Travel to sleep lightly and peacefully dreaming of a new day
carrying nothing but what is truly needed.
Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2017
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Michael Vacek Poem
Shotgun shells, fireworks, an empty casing,
Burnt gunpowder sensed with imagined smell,
Bring a smile as the mind begins onward racing,
Of times past and grand stories to retell,
Hunts to remember; 4th of Julys raising hell.
Even the repugnant is remembered with glee,
Fresh swine manure upon beds of loose straw,
Time on the farm, a boy’s life lived carefree,
Fishing, hunting, and building with grandpa,
Learning gun safety and how to hammer and saw.
A favorite to this day is corn cut fresh,
Dust in the air with stalked rows piled,
Behind the red tractor and an 8 row thresh.
Memories overflow of that innocent child
Of the fun that was had, a boy in the wild.
Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2018
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Michael Vacek Poem
Downward marriage falls seeking some relief
Children follow awkwardly, senses moan
Husband and wife acting out of belief
Three children entering chambers unknown
Locked in battle, the wife reaches for sword
Under advice, she unleashes all hells
Falsely accusing the husband deplored
Of abuse, harm, and hate to citadels
With one stroke of the pen, I was condemned
Guilty 'til proven otherwise I was
Cast out, no home, no gold, no kids, clemmed.
Without, alone, despaired, scorned, for no cause
Time to think, time to ponder, time to pray
My children became my crusade, that day
09/21/17
'Taking a disappointment in your life turning it into something positive'
Form: Sonnet
Sponsored by Brenda Chiri
Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2017
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Michael Vacek Poem
I can’t bear that rock in my shoe,
As I sit, I glance up mesmerized by the sunset’s view.
Seven deep in a grocery line,
The wonderful innocent stare of a baby and mine align.
Two minutes ‘til the microwave dings.
I’m lifted on wings while the voice above nostalgically sings.
Dropping my change all over the ground,
It’s a wonder these tiny ants can amass such a mound.
Traffic slowed to a halted gridlock,
Listen to the honks leading that swaying vee of a flock.
Keys locked inside my car,
The horizon is so clear today, I can see so far.
Coffee dripped upon my shirt,
I’ll go in and change giving my darling a romantic flirt.
My dog drops a load on their lawn,
To their magnificent flower garden my eyes are drawn,
Drive thru with limited crew,
I don’t think I’ve ever seen that particular sunrise hue.
If only I could stop on my own accord,
I would readily see creation’s beauty gifted from my Lord.
Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2017
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Michael Vacek Poem
Waterfowler’s Delight
Clouded marshes masking what may come.
Suzy's boisterous invitation over yonder grass
Dark shadowed spreads set to entice some.
As the glow of the East begins to amass.
Newly anointed awaiting the first blessing.
Old dogs hoping the spark will catch fire.
Light of day upon the horizon pressing.
Nosing sweet dew upon the poignant mire.
Blue and grays approaching whiter shades.
Dark decoys amidst water hazed with hue.
Breaths of pink winds follow forecasted trades.
Nestling in, head up, taking in one last view.
Grasses, reeds, trees and limb begin their claps,
Rattling and brushing in a standing ovation.
Shedding nights tears, tapping coats and caps,
Encouraging shivers of warm tingling anticipation.
Night choruses blend with day’s percussion
Clicks and rasps of metal, wood and springs.
Last words, rules whispered in group discussion
Silenced by sudden whistling of cupped wings.
Glancing at time wishing the watch was there
Edging toward one half hour before this sunrise.
A single, lonely, echoing report from over there,
Waterfowler's delight, peeling eyes to the skies.
09/25/2017
Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2017
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Michael Vacek Poem
Secrets should always be easily shared.
Interaction rather than causation,
Unbridling the soul of all ties once aired.
No need for vigilant calculation,
Intent on seamless communication.
Just being with others in the moment,
A genuine, life-giving, bestowment.
Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2017
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