Message from Michael

Michael W. Holland received his B.A. in Humanities from Michigan State University with emphases in English, Psychology, and Music. Michael only began writing six years ago when this outpouring of words occurred. He began writing in a writer's group based on the A. W. A. method created by Pat Schneider, which he believes in strongly. (A big shout out to Laguna Writers and Chris Delorenzo!) He never knew his writing was a gift, but feels so grateful to have found this passion. He has taken classes in the M.A. program for Creative Writing at San Francisco State University in poetry, and feels immense gratitude that he was accepted into their program. So far he has published five poems, "Blow By Blow", "Living Past Doubts", "Father", "Dogwood Days", and just received an offer to publish "Legacy". He has begun the submission process to other publications, and hopes that he will have luck! He would like to thank everyone for reading, and that he is eternally grateful for those who read his work and appreciate what they take away something with them from what they read. His experience through the Diary has been a journey that has brought love, acceptance, and many real live angels into his world and community. A bit thanks to his twin Halkios.

Poetry

Speak To Me

I hear what you say peripherally as you smile, touch

my arm, blush, and it's not so much what you say

as it is the nature of the flirt. I find myself nodding

at you, you with the mocha eyes, and jet black hair,

you with the effervescent charm, the kind smile,

whispering raspberry kisses.

I think of our first date, how knee knocking nervous

I was, how the conversation felt forced, my inner critic

seeking to nullify this connection. I remember

you asking if I was as nervous as you were, and I relaxed,

and melted a little as our minds melded, stopping

time for just a fraction. I can smell your toffee whispers

from that night, and I accidentally leaned against

the inside gate, ringing apartments 10 and 12 by mistake,

how my neighbor called out “who's ringing the bell”,

as we both hid in shadow and giggled, full of warmth,

full of connection.

So here we are again, and you are talking, and the words

don't matter, but they do, but they don't. You are

the ultimate poem. Your words have a rhythm in time

and space that speak to all parts of me, from within

and out.

Speak to me. Keep talking and cooing, Speak to me.

I will smile and hopefully you will melt, as our arms

brush against each other, and I will shiver

ever so slightly. Speak to me. Speak to me.

Speak only to me.

© All rights reserved to the  poetry and writings by Michael Wayne Holland aka SF Tiger