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Michael Santner Poem
We talked at length
The hours we passed
The life you lived
Oh the horrors
So many men's live snuffed
Oh Arizona, a dedication
Whose souls be at rest
Amidst oily scum
And so many others
Sightless eyes watch
The world in disintegration.
Yes, you’ve seen
Many unimaginable horrors
Those only Man can inflict
You’ve grasped my heart
I watched you whither away
A hero by all accounts
God rest your soul
Oh gentle man.
God rest ye gentle man.
My heart aches
With your passing
Now I have your cherished one
She that you know
Rested in my heart
For years and years and years
The one that tended you
All that time
Oh yes, that woman of women
She is in my arms
Forever… my very first love
The thought of whose love
Brings tears to my eyes
Together… finally…
Forever.
Never
Worry…
Never
Forget…
Just so you know…
Semper Fidelis... you are my hero Donald Canan,USMC, WWII veteran Western
Pacific... he told death to get bent. May God Rest your soul.
Copyright © Michael Santner | Year Posted 2007
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Michael Santner Poem
I am able to move one’s spirit to the pinnacle of joy or drive it to depths of despair.
Not a chore to evoke passionate emotion--convey love, hate, life, and death.
Within those four small words lies our meek human existence all told.
To omnipresent Alpha and Omega, of what core lies between?
Now I sit with pen in hand to ponder many words of wit.
Gift to paint, not I, yet may cast an image to mind.
Bright lavender fields coax the amorous duo
to mingle with its deep, heady scent.
Amidst wet sewage soaked dirt
a filthy small child lays
weeping for mother
a bloody heap
close by.
See?
My!
The glee
holding words
Make them express.
Giving wide literate detail.
Understand to hold a soft heart.
Else never will you touch one’s soul.
So this is merely the lone reason I compose.
Excitement and warm sympathy and fiery passion,
within many a sorrow and tears and friendly persuasion,
in absolute care I do write and lay my psyche upon each page,
then wonder at length the primary purpose of such artistic endeavors.
Who among the world’s populace might gain an insight from what I scribe?
Does this really matter at all; since rarely, if ever, is it what one says… but how.
Copyright © Michael Santner | Year Posted 2005
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Michael Santner Poem
Morning breaks in cheerful warm brilliance,
pale sapphire sky pristine.
Grey-white gulls glide vociferously above
in search of firma bound fare.
Reflections of Sol’s arms vault from the sea,
smooth but for zephyr stroked folds;
pure, sugar white sand kissed softly
by persistent waves subtle roll.
Soft ghosts of tepid breeze course random,
sensually caressing what be;
long thin-bladed grasses sway lightly
in synchrony and shameless delight.
With bonnet in hand an aged woman strolls
beside the vast Gulf of blue;
damp, firm sand squeaks soothingly
against the soles of her tired bare feet.
Her large eyes of brown focus ahead,
bear no witness to her days and shine;
fine flowing hair of luminous white
draped over shoulders so slight.
A pause, though brief, in quiet reflection,
her gaze upon the distant view
and mind in stoic reminiscence
of past friends and loves and wonder.
His strong arms hold her close tightly,
warmth of body and soul unite,
while gaiety in unbound laughter
disclose love once again renewed.
A tender brush of hand upon cheek
raises fiery passion in both,
as excited young eyes meet in ardor
essence link in eternal embrace.
One warm briny tear born of these thoughts
streams slowly down her cheek,
she slowly walks on as sand squeaks soothingly
against the soles of her tired bare feet.
Copyright © Michael Santner | Year Posted 2005
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Michael Santner Poem
Your warm supple lips press tightly against mine
My hand stroking gently your hair so fair
Your arms hold me close embracing me tightly
My hand softly rests on your nape
Your arms draw me much closer than close
My hands bring you nearer still
Temperatures rise in passionate haste
Lying amidst scents of sweet summer jasmine
Bodies caressed by midnight’s cool breeze
Touched by soft southern mist in druidic dance
Clutched closer than close
Held nearer still
Copyright © Michael Santner | Year Posted 2005
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Michael Santner Poem
Why is the “p” silent in receipt?
Why is “no” not the same as “know,”
Or “new” and “knew?”
And if someone says “there,”
Why do we know
They don’t mean “their” or “they’re?”
I read a note from a redneck up yonder
Said “Hay man, ya got a doller?”
Well I don’t, not that I’d give it to ‘em anyway.
(Probably makes more than me too)
I s’pose he couldn’t talk a lick, hence the note.
Some say I talk funny in these here parts,
but what would one expect
from a Yankee from ‘hia anyhow?
Everybody knows everybody here
‘cause I think they’s all related somehow.
The lady down the street, I swear
is married to her daddy,
her grandfather also her step-uncle.
Jack down the road is all in a tizzy
wondrin’ who’s yer daddy.
Up in Minnesota I found
a word can take half-hour from start to end
where a soda is a pop… there is no spelling
of which I can describe – can you?
But I met a man from Harvard t’other day
asked him “’scuse me sir, where’s the library at?”
With pomp and serious demeanor he says to me,
“Here at Harvard, we never
end a sentence in a preposition.”
So I says to the prep, “OK, where’s the library at…
*******!”
Copyright © Michael Santner | Year Posted 2007
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Michael Santner Poem
One golden ship sails
Awash in peppermint dreams
Powered by the wind
Copyright © Michael Santner | Year Posted 2005
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Michael Santner Poem
Souls guided with love
Forming radiant circles
Covered by feathers
Copyright © Michael Santner | Year Posted 2005
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Michael Santner Poem
I love this brown ale so much
In a glass so clear
Newcastle, you are the one
Copyright © Michael Santner | Year Posted 2007
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Michael Santner Poem
Chrysanthemums cheer
Off the beaten path of life
A pleasant detour
Copyright © Michael Santner | Year Posted 2005
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Michael Santner Poem
I am very stressed today.
I sat at my desk today and kept thinking about all the things I need to do then made a list of
them all. All day I spent the morning worrying about the things I needed to do and wondered
how I was going to finish them all. So, I made a list of the steps for how I going to complete
each thing I listed, then wondered how I was going to complete all those steps. Now, I'm
putting all the steps in order so it makes sense and makes it easier to get all the things done
that I need to do. I was surprised when I read the list I made and found that the one thing I
wanted to do today was merely to finish something. But that one small task had twenty-
seven steps. Yes, it's been a VERY stressful day.
Copyright © Michael Santner | Year Posted 2009
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