For those who care and actully read this blog, Coming Of Age has finally been published and is ready for your book collection. If your interested in ordering information please click the link on the side of this page for my main blog, Closetwriterofmaine.blogspot.com, and you can order yours.
Cheers,
Mike
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
The time is getting closer...
Yup, thats for sure, it seems like only yesterday that I started working on this project. But like all great things that come with age, I am happy to say that the body of Coming Of Age has been completed and compiled, and is being edited and the cover art being created. Looks like things for this project are going to be done on schedule or close enough to on schedule to make it to the masses before the mid september deadline. I can't wait to see the responce of the book after it is published.
For now,
Mike
For now,
Mike
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Florida Nights
Hey gang, its been awhile I know but I have been a super busy person. Thought I would however share with you a new piece that I finished tonight... hope you all enjoy it...
Florida Nights
Basking in the moonbeams
of a warm florida night
I sit and collect myself
after a day of balmy fun.
Off in the distance fireworks
clutter the pristine nice skies
in their brilliant momentary burst
from the Disney wonderland miles away.
Splashing of the warm wake in the pool
cresting its sides at times
as the young and young at heart
frolic in the pale moon light.
Echos of the steal drums
dance threw the pool side area
as the evening band in the bar
casts an intoxicating spell
over the sun baked on lookers.
With my handy notebook computer
waiting attentively at my side
I sit and sip my drink
imagining life away from this place.
Flying fingers on keys
just to tell the people back home
that yes I am alive and having fun
occupy my mind for a moment.
Time lapses a blur of sweet bliss
as the moon slips slowly
across the midnight black sky
as if it was playing a skillful game
of hide and seek with the sun and stars.
Its late now, and I must go
for the battery of my own body
grows desperately low.
Tomorrow brings a new grand adventure
for the tired bones that sit before this pad
lounging in the warmth of the florida night.
Florida Nights
Basking in the moonbeams
of a warm florida night
I sit and collect myself
after a day of balmy fun.
Off in the distance fireworks
clutter the pristine nice skies
in their brilliant momentary burst
from the Disney wonderland miles away.
Splashing of the warm wake in the pool
cresting its sides at times
as the young and young at heart
frolic in the pale moon light.
Echos of the steal drums
dance threw the pool side area
as the evening band in the bar
casts an intoxicating spell
over the sun baked on lookers.
With my handy notebook computer
waiting attentively at my side
I sit and sip my drink
imagining life away from this place.
Flying fingers on keys
just to tell the people back home
that yes I am alive and having fun
occupy my mind for a moment.
Time lapses a blur of sweet bliss
as the moon slips slowly
across the midnight black sky
as if it was playing a skillful game
of hide and seek with the sun and stars.
Its late now, and I must go
for the battery of my own body
grows desperately low.
Tomorrow brings a new grand adventure
for the tired bones that sit before this pad
lounging in the warmth of the florida night.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Twisted Love
How do I love you
let me count the ways
if I didn't have you I'd be lost
with out your bossing ways.
One nagging moment
in every hour each day
not that I am perfect
but you take the prize.
Two timing tramps
that you call friends
yet their standards lower
with each passing wallet.
Three meals a day
that you end up throwing up
just to keep that figure
that you think you have.
Four legged animal
seems to fit you best
not that your a dog
more like a bitch.
Five million questions
you ask me when I go out
not that miltary interigation
doesn't totaly turn me on.
Six clothes changes
you make before we go out
because people are going to care
if your purse matches your shoes.
Seven days a week you spend
telling your friends how I'm an ass
yet you walk on water
atleast you think you do.
So how do I love you
let me count the ways
not that I give a crap
because now you've gone away.
Good bye my love,
and your ignorant ways
never show your face around here
because I don't return the texts
you leave me seventeen times a day.
let me count the ways
if I didn't have you I'd be lost
with out your bossing ways.
One nagging moment
in every hour each day
not that I am perfect
but you take the prize.
Two timing tramps
that you call friends
yet their standards lower
with each passing wallet.
Three meals a day
that you end up throwing up
just to keep that figure
that you think you have.
Four legged animal
seems to fit you best
not that your a dog
more like a bitch.
Five million questions
you ask me when I go out
not that miltary interigation
doesn't totaly turn me on.
Six clothes changes
you make before we go out
because people are going to care
if your purse matches your shoes.
Seven days a week you spend
telling your friends how I'm an ass
yet you walk on water
atleast you think you do.
So how do I love you
let me count the ways
not that I give a crap
because now you've gone away.
Good bye my love,
and your ignorant ways
never show your face around here
because I don't return the texts
you leave me seventeen times a day.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Everything Has A Reason
Everything happens for a reason, thats for damn sure. While working on this project I have been able to go out and see what I really am threw my own words. Coming Of Age, in consept is a collection of my works as I continue to grow from a boy into a man.
At just about half way threw the body of the book, I sit here in amazement that I am able to share these thoughts threw poetic form with you. Looking back on what is cusping 28 years of my life, there are so many events that need to be shared, I just hope that some of these writings will touch you as much as they have touched me as well.
Blessings,
Mike
At just about half way threw the body of the book, I sit here in amazement that I am able to share these thoughts threw poetic form with you. Looking back on what is cusping 28 years of my life, there are so many events that need to be shared, I just hope that some of these writings will touch you as much as they have touched me as well.
Blessings,
Mike
Labels:
Coming Of Age,
Maine Poets,
Michael Trumble,
Mike Trumble Poetry,
Poetry
Monday, May 26, 2008
We Salute You
We Salute You
A tear fell softly on his young cheek
as the flag draped coffin rolled by
in a somber remembrance of his dad
who paid the ultimate price.
He was young, to young to understand
the meanings of his dads loss
so quietly he cried as he watched on
because that’s what he was told to do.
He wondered many things that day
as the pipers sweet songs played
who are all these people
in the pretty army men suits
why do they all look
at my daddy's casket and salute
do they really know my daddy and if so why
all roll threw his head
as no one sees his tears.
As the piper's pipes bellow amazing grace
and he plays for respect to the dead
the young boy stands next to his mom
not to move a muscle as he looks on.
Big men the size of his daddy use big words
that make the precious young boys head spin
as he tries with great vigor to understand
because that’s what his daddy would want.
Then he see's them,
standing in their dress blues
a bunch of men with weapons in hand
have come to save the day or so he thinks
as they mount their stocks to shoulders
and pay tribute to his daddy
with a twenty one gun salute.
Off in the distance the little boys eyes do see
another army man or so he calls them
not knowing any better name
play softly a song on his horn
that bring all the others to their feet.
He watch’s on as they take
the flag off his daddy's casket
as they carefully fold it with such precision
honor and graceful movements as well
with more tears in his eyes
he comes full circle
wanting his daddy back with him,
for that he is certain
An army man walks over,
carefully holding that flag
and hands it to the little boy
with a tear in his eye
stands back at attention and salutes him
then with a quiver in tone,
looks down at the boy saying
Your daddy did well son,
now he's in Gods home.
A tear fell softly on his young cheek
as the flag draped coffin rolled by
in a somber remembrance of his dad
who paid the ultimate price.
He was young, to young to understand
the meanings of his dads loss
so quietly he cried as he watched on
because that’s what he was told to do.
He wondered many things that day
as the pipers sweet songs played
who are all these people
in the pretty army men suits
why do they all look
at my daddy's casket and salute
do they really know my daddy and if so why
all roll threw his head
as no one sees his tears.
As the piper's pipes bellow amazing grace
and he plays for respect to the dead
the young boy stands next to his mom
not to move a muscle as he looks on.
Big men the size of his daddy use big words
that make the precious young boys head spin
as he tries with great vigor to understand
because that’s what his daddy would want.
Then he see's them,
standing in their dress blues
a bunch of men with weapons in hand
have come to save the day or so he thinks
as they mount their stocks to shoulders
and pay tribute to his daddy
with a twenty one gun salute.
Off in the distance the little boys eyes do see
another army man or so he calls them
not knowing any better name
play softly a song on his horn
that bring all the others to their feet.
He watch’s on as they take
the flag off his daddy's casket
as they carefully fold it with such precision
honor and graceful movements as well
with more tears in his eyes
he comes full circle
wanting his daddy back with him,
for that he is certain
An army man walks over,
carefully holding that flag
and hands it to the little boy
with a tear in his eye
stands back at attention and salutes him
then with a quiver in tone,
looks down at the boy saying
Your daddy did well son,
now he's in Gods home.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
An offering from the Coming Of Age project
I have had a lot of fun working on new pieces for coming of age, thought that on this spring day I would offer you one that will bring anyone back to the age of a child, atleast for a moment or two.
Lesson Plans Of Spring
Back of the room doodling
on the blank pages of my notebook
was an escape from counting ceiling tiles
as the teacher regailed the class
with half hearted stories of another.
Every tick of the second hand
seems like forever today.
The mid spring sunlight pourd
into the sauna that was the room
where today I felt like a prisoner.
My eyes darted from side to side
almost as if I was planning an escape
in the back of my head
echos of charlie browns teacher
ring ever so loudly threw out my head
as the teacher before me continues
their relentless assault on my ears
with their long and pointless babblings.
I notice for a second out of the corner of my eye
the sweet spring breeze blowing
pushing yester years leaves back and forth
allowing the symbol of freedom to blow
as it sits afixed to the pole outside the widow.
The last place I want to be is confined here
when the spring time nature calls me
to shed the books and troubles of school
and to let my soul be free.
Lesson Plans Of Spring
Back of the room doodling
on the blank pages of my notebook
was an escape from counting ceiling tiles
as the teacher regailed the class
with half hearted stories of another.
Every tick of the second hand
seems like forever today.
The mid spring sunlight pourd
into the sauna that was the room
where today I felt like a prisoner.
My eyes darted from side to side
almost as if I was planning an escape
in the back of my head
echos of charlie browns teacher
ring ever so loudly threw out my head
as the teacher before me continues
their relentless assault on my ears
with their long and pointless babblings.
I notice for a second out of the corner of my eye
the sweet spring breeze blowing
pushing yester years leaves back and forth
allowing the symbol of freedom to blow
as it sits afixed to the pole outside the widow.
The last place I want to be is confined here
when the spring time nature calls me
to shed the books and troubles of school
and to let my soul be free.
Labels:
Coming Of Age,
Michael Trumble,
Mike Trumble Poetry,
poety,
spring
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)