Daily Diary by Michael Keshigian

All day,  

every day,

through the night

while you sleep,

dust floats upon airy parchment

to silently describe the moment

and soon

another page is complete.

Early, when it’s quiet,

the faint sound

you think you hear

is a streak of sunlight

that sings

the chilly dawn breeze

into a story. 

Even snowfall covers

a page of barren countryside

with white ink,

transforming blank to verse,

rain erases most mistakes.

On a bright day

you may catch hand shadows

swirling fair weather fonts

into words

in front of the sun,

creating a gust

that inspires leaves and twigs

to choreograph the landscape.

When the inkwell runs dry,

the rattling pen resounds

a thunderous clap

and the dark hand pulls

upon the spigot moon.


Michael Keshigian, USA
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Michael Keshigian,  USA

Blue by Michael Keshigian

There is the ample door
..............to heaven
we anticipate to pass through
.............after a lifetime of good
and there is the blue heron
.............that bathes and stalks
a secluded pond
............for sanctuary.





Michael Keshigian

Assembly Required by Michael Keshigian

In bits and pieces
they fall from heaven,
disassembled snowmen,
one flake after the other,
strewn about the countryside,
discovered by those young at heart,
and with a dash
of imaginative insight,
they roll a gleeful creature
in their own image.
No directions needed.





Michael Keshigian

Benevolence by Michael Keshigian

Fall approached
with tender kiss
and startling display

gently unhooking
the verdant dress of summer,
who blushed

and dropped soft petals
to the ground,
emerging pale and tired

in the unfamiliar setting,
then curled
to keep herself warm

till a bearded man arrived
with white garb
to comfort her.



Michael Keshigian

A Silent Poem by Michael Keshigian

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 tranquility
between twin peaks
of a snow covered summit.

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

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


Michael Keshigian