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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory  3/6/2015 5:03:29 AM
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'The Aging Man'

‘The Aging Man’

The aging man sat on the concrete seat
Outside the hidden mountain cottage
The seat where generations had sat before
A family party going on inside the cottage
He sits and ponders his future
As generations have done before
Some chose the priesthood
Others opted for foreign climes
Some had gone to war
None of the family who had left
Had ever returned home
The eldest, as he was, of each generation
Stayed at home on the farm
He thought, this he might change
He wasn’t sure if he wanted
Another family member
Stuck on this mountain
In this out of the way cottage
That they called the family home
But he never felt at home
Someone standing on the doorstep
Shouts come in son
It is your eighteenth birthday party
You should be in here
He went back to the party
The family were in full spirits
Happy to see him grown
How will he tell them
He is going to break with tradition
A heavy burden for one so young
What a weight on his shoulders
For him, the aging man

Michael Micmac Mccrory
Michael Micmac Mccrory



The Mystery of Life

The theory of life
Is to be at one
With strife
And remain calm
Calm is where we are at one
With ourselves
When the day is done
We put our strife on shelves
Like books to be read
When we are at one
With ourselves again
Life is performed in
Recurring circles and stages
To be acted out like a play
A mystery drama
We continue to perform
In circles and stages
Life is not a mystery
The mystery is
Why we live in
Recurring circles and stages
Doing the same today
As we and all of our ancestors
Have done in the past
Change is what’s needed
Change our lives
To live in harmony
To live in calm
To live as one with ourselves
To sleep in peace
To rise
Without taking the books full of strife
From our shelves
But to read of peace
To have self respect
The self respect we get
From having respect for others

We don’t do this
WHY! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ?
That is the-‘Mystery of Life’
Michael Micmac Mccrory



'The Naked Poet'

I sit before the bare page
With just the lines protecting it's emptiness
My mind is also bare, bereft of words
The pen in my hand shouting
I am here with all the world's language's
Held within my ink filled lining
The pen goads me on, go on, you naked poet
Make me the empty one
Dress your bare page
With the words I have within
My ink filled lexicon lining
Go on if you dare you naked poet
Claim the glory for the words
That that stream from my innards
True poetry flows from my nib
True in every language
I am the almighty pen, the one truly gifted poet
Dress your page with my prose, dress your page with an ode
From my memory, the memory of the almighty pen
The one true poet, the poet master
The one who dresses your mind with words
The one who will dress you, until then you must remain
‘The naked poet'


Michael Micmac Mccrory



'Traffic jam'


Traffic Jam

Traffic jam
Too many trolleys
a scene at the mall

Michael Micmac Mccrory
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• angel poems
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• girl poems
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• life poems
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• nature poems
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• soldier poems
summer poems
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war poems
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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory