Monday 11 November 2019

3 Poems by Michael Keshigian


All day I’ve listened to the song
of a single cardinal ripple stillness
just outside my office window.
An opera in red tux,
his throat is a spring
stretching an aria
through the cluttered house of sound,
awakening memories of events since past.
The timbre enlivens my heart.
I can almost touch what once was
as it floats between song and wind.
An inflection so crisp, that I’m convinced
the cardinal sings for more
than to merely texture the commotion.
His tune incites another gift.
He performs daily,
tireless and without hoarseness,
to make sad hearts flutter.


In the beginning it must have been
that the Neanderthal
emerged from his cave
early one day
into a cold and ruthless world

and noticed for the first time
sun’s reflection glistening
upon lake serenity
between twin peaks
of a snow covered summit.

And speechless
as he might have been
for images never seen,
he fell to his knees,
stared mutely,

unable to excise
the swell in his soul,
and realized
each morning thereafter
would speak differently.


What is love
but the dried up bulbs
the gardener insists on planting
to everyone’s objections
that irrationally burst
into magnificent dahlias.
The lunacy of uncertainty,
a fascination of delight,
most often unpredictable.
Wild grow
the flowers of the heart
in the garden of our lives,
wilder still
blooms affection.


Michael Keshigian, from New Hampshire, has been published in numerous national and international journals, recently including Aji Magazine, San Pedro River Review, Tipton Poetry Journal, Muddy River Review, and Passager. His poetry cycle, Lunar Images, set for Clarinet, Piano, Narrator, was premiered at Del Mar College in Texas. Subsequent performances occurred in Boston (Berklee College) and Moleto, Italy. Winter Moon, a poem set for Soprano and Piano, premiered in Boston. (

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