<![CDATA[Michael Allyn Wells - Poet Home Website - Poet Notes]]>Wed, 14 Aug 2019 13:20:47 -0600Weebly<![CDATA[Lucky Goat Socks]]>Wed, 14 Aug 2019 15:06:01 GMThttp://michaelwells.ink/poet-notes/lucky-goat-socks
A surprise gift from my sweetie - goat socks!  I'll let you know just how lucky they are after I've written in them a while. 
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<![CDATA[A Big Thank You to Remington Review]]>Tue, 11 Jun 2019 14:20:49 GMThttp://michaelwells.ink/poet-notes/a-big-thank-you-to-remington-reviewThank you to Remington Review for accepting my poem "Keep [ing It] Going," which will appear in the Summer 2019 issue.  If my memory serves me correctly, this will be the third time RR has allowed one of my poems to grace their pages.  Great people!  Thanks Again!]]><![CDATA[Tiananmen Mother]]>Fri, 07 Jun 2019 15:57:27 GMThttp://michaelwells.ink/poet-notes/june-07th-2019Picture

Thirty years ago a young man stood in defiance of Chinese tanks at Tiananmen Squair. The photo of this single person in street clothing and clutching two shopping bags, standing face to face with a tank, is widely recognized and associated with the student freedom movement. The man and the massive machines of war catapulted itself to become an icon seen around the world.   It was June 5th, 1989 when "Tank Man"was photographed in the aftermath of a deadly government crackdown to clear Tiananmen of young protesters.  

At home, however, China was attempted to scrub this image from the public minds. They once used it to demonstrate their need to use force, but the picture hardly served that purpose well.  Generations of Chinese youth have been largely sheltered from this picture and the deadly government actions 30 years ago. 



In 2005 I wrote a poem the poem that follows -  Tiananmen Mother  - dedicating it to a Communist Party official that broke with the government and tried to warn the protesters of the coming violence. As has been the case with others, he was ostracized. Beyond that, I believe the poem speaks for itself. 


Tiananmen Mother

for Zhao Ziyang

The Beijing breeze whispers
mournful strophes.
Tears like the mountain rains
follow slopes

to tributaries until they become one
with the rippling waters of the Yangtze.

I am a Tiananmen mother.
My eyes have swelled
with this sadness before.
The wetness follows a path
well rehearsed.

My nights are immense.
I am but a lone bare branch
in a cold, dark world.

They replicate
that June night
etched in my soul
over and over.

My son stood
in the Square
armed only
with a vision
and they came-
The People's Army.

My son stood
in Tiananmen Square,
amid a sea of other
sons and daughters
and they came-

armored tanks
clanking along the streets into Tiananmen
driven by fear, ordered by paranoia.

Our sons and daughters
toppled to the earth
at their hands.
Crimson crawling into every crevice
Of these ancient Chinese streets
A stain still upon us today.

I cannot count the nights
I've wept for my son since.
Today, I weep for another.

There is no official news
but the Beijing breeze whispers again.
This time for the death of the old man.
There are guards of fear
stationed outside my door.
The lump in my throat is big,
I cannot begin to swallow,
that is how I know the truth.

Guilt always gnawing at my heart.
I could not help my son that June night.
Again as I am helpless.

I want to pay my respects
to the old man who stood up
for my son and others
massacred in Tiananmen,
but the thugs watch
my every move.

I am a Tiananmen mother.
It is my duty to weep
for the lost ones.




© 2005 Michael A. Wells

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<![CDATA[I'd like that...]]>Fri, 31 May 2019 15:14:19 GMThttp://michaelwells.ink/poet-notes/id-like-that“We have conversations most nights, Sylvia Plath and me!” 
― Avijeet Das
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<![CDATA[What I'm Reading]]>Tue, 16 Apr 2019 18:11:36 GMThttp://michaelwells.ink/poet-notes/what-im-reading3923701
Presently  I'm reading several books - these two are my focus right now.   
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<![CDATA[Sunday Night - Is this the end of a week or the beginning¬† of a new one.]]>Mon, 15 Apr 2019 01:03:12 GMThttp://michaelwells.ink/poet-notes/sunday-night-is-this-the-end-of-a-week-or-the-beginning-of-a-new-oneSince I brought back a ton of books from AWP, I am in the middle of reading  several at once. Isn't that how all poets and writers read?  I have just finished Tasty Other by Katie Manning. I really liked this book and will be writing a review of it  but  for the moment  - just know that I gave it a 5 start rating on Goodreads and I highly recommend it. 

I have so much to do since I've been back and I came home feeling a new cold coming on within 24 hours of getting back and I think I'm over it now and finally got my taxes out of the way.  

Perhaps for the next few weeks I need to post here just as a matter of self accountability. ]]>
<![CDATA[AWP 19 - Portland]]>Wed, 03 Apr 2019 20:39:25 GMThttp://michaelwells.ink/poet-notes/awp-19-portlandPortland is weird. That's what they kept telling us. On signs, On bumper stickers, and there actually is something weird about about being told over and over without asking. It's kind of like Donald Trump saying  one of the many things her repeats emphatically without any foundation and no one asked. It makes you a little specious.  

​I believe I brought home a cold from Portland. I have suffered through an upper respiratory thing that kept reoccurring in January and February. This feels just like it did and I am going to blame it on being among some 13,000 to 14,000  writers, or other miscellaneous people I came in contact with. It's the runny nose, drainage, cough crap that hates me and I hate it.  I will not consider this among the SWAG that I brought home. 

I have chiropractor tonight and I am going to stop there on the way home before urgent care. 

I feel like I have a lot more to say about Portland, but  I will save it for later. I'm back, I'm alive, I'm sick. 

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