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Michael Warren's Writings

View Michael’s Books | Read Michael’s other writings below.

Poem
Pub_2014_2014 Yellow Tulips Small.jpg
Apr.02.2014
Righter Monthly Review, April 2014
Fresh from Noordwjik and a bracing North Sea wind, She welcomed the cloistering canals of the Old Town, Nuzzling her way through the narrowed crook and bend Of Amsterdam’s ancient, intimate, aboriginal site Treasuring the café with the lounging cat, three steps down.   Aboard the Museum Boat drifting through the city’s watery veins She came to herself, time...
Poem
Rel_2014_2014_Helen Ascending Small.png
Mar.02.2014
Righter Monthly Review, March 2014
It was as if she were a frame of an old kinetograph, In pose even as she rose up climbing the stair, A sparkle in the eye, on the lips a faint laugh, A light turn of the hip, traipsing, wending, Mounting the steps with seasoned innocence, aware.   In a new town, in a new house, a new life she started Not with the light gait of a maiden never hobbled But the...
Poem
Delving Into Blackberry Jam Small.jpg
Feb.02.2014
Righter Monthly Review, February 2014
On the edges of light you will find them, Dense, tangled, leafy ribs of briar. If rooted in shade, longing inclines the stem To arch its spiny back towards the sun, For shadow captures not the essence of desire.   Sprouted at the rim of the pine wood ridge, Encircling the spring hill beyond the barn, The broad leaves of the cane seek to bridge A germ of...
Poem
Pub_2014_2014_Ex Cathedra Small.png
Jan.17.2014
Righter Monthly Review, January 2014
The raven from the bough, Is missed by none at all. He died here yesterday, And is missed by none at all.   The king is in the castle, The lords have gone there too. The peasants are in the fields, Working for their dues, The harvest is in the air, The crops will soon be shared.   The princess is in the tower, Is singing o'er the land. The peasants in...
Short Story
Rel_2013_2013_The Inheritance Small.png
Dec.02.2013
Righter Monthly Review, December 2013, p.3
The morning of his fourteenth birthday, Jared Stanly rose when his mother kindled a fire in the cook stove, hurried through the chilled and foggy November air to collect the eggs from the chicken house and slid into his place at the table. When he came in from the barn, Mr. Stanly smiled at his son's eagerness. "Fetch your sister, boy," the tenant farmer said to...
Short Story
Pub_2013_2013_ThanksgivingAfield Small.png
Nov.04.2013
Righter Monthly Review, November 2013, p. 13
I will not be cooking for Thanksgiving this year, for only the second time since 1977. The first time I failed to prepare a traditional Thanksgiving feast, I was marooned by the airlines in Singapore. Now, my children have their own homes and will soon start their own traditions now that they no longer appear at my table. So I will go away for Thanksgiving so my...
Poem
American Holocaust Small.png
Oct.02.2013
Righter Monthly Review, October 2013, p. 10
Innocents they were, nearly three thousand in number, When evil struck on that fine morning in September. Fomented by the disease of deity, Focused against the cause of liberty, Into the heart of America they flew, Deadly black buzzards of hate, Ravenously, mercilessly they ate Delivering that anguished fate, That distant cowering cowards proscribed. Burning,...
Poem
Pub_2013_2013_Lady Armagnac.jpg
Sep.02.2013
Righter Monthly Review, September 2013, p. 22
Lady Armagnac among her chickens went, To sow the feed they would need, And make her heart content. For her love was nearby, And never again would she cry. He gave her treasure in each deed, Such that his love for her could not be spent.   Lady Armagnac, never be blue, I am ever your knight, faithful and true, My sacred love is given only to you. Do not fear...
Poem
My Lady Of The Hollies Small.jpg
Aug.01.2013
Righter Monthly Review, August 2013, p. 17
In a voice as earnest as death, And eyes sadly beseeching, While yet they sparkled with hope and promise, You implored me, then stilled your breath, To teach you how to love. An unclenched fist clothed in a velvet glove, Your urgent request hinted at a future bliss, That against your cold, shadowy cloister was already breaching.   Know this, my lady, in the...
Poem
Autumn Rose Small.jpg
Jul.12.2013
The Friendly Naturalist, a community nature journal, December 1, 2012, p. 69
In Spring the bloom is on the rose And, admixed with colored petals and rare fragrance, Is a delight for the senses. In the autumn of maturity, the bloom is in the rose, Nestled in kindness, folded in generosity. More cherished is the autumn rose To those whose journeying through the garden has revealed the differences.