Poetry: Michael Roque

Michael Roque

Michael Roque, a Los Angeles native, now residing in the Middle East, embarked on his writing odyssey amidst the bleachers of Pasadena City College. His literary voyage has traversed continents, gracing the pages of esteemed publications such as Aurora Quarterly, Veridian Review, and CascadeJournal. 

Email: roque.write09@gmail.com

Social Handle: https://www.instagram.com/roquewrites2009/

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The Seeds We Plant

Planting seeds in soft soil

sprouts from earth

diverse fruits that nourish— 

assist from birth,

empowering bodies to flex and bewilder,

propelling minds to mount the moon,

dream beyond our prism— 

see through our toil.

Planting bullets—

blood in baked concrete,

sprouts from cracks

another blade in a blindsided back.

Morgues stuffed with mutilation

from blown buses, car rams,

An endless supply of stifled minds,

endless sets of feet stubbornly unmoved,

inhaling through nose decaying man

exhaling from mouth—

defeat.

***

Civilization On a Block of Ice

Life— 

on solid plateaus 

of outstretched ice.

Serene to ears 

sanctuary space for penguins, seals, 

shady place for circling aquatics seaside.

Warm glimmer, 

a nice tan,

a random morning sunrise,

morphed into blinding shine,

Sweat beads piling on penguins’ brows.

Dehydration sets into delirium pleas 

from parched mouths

Our wide expanse of ice

Shrink, shrinks-

Finally sinks.

Waters boil,

waters rise,

submerging into memories,

the bars, the shows, the old skyline.

Now— 

an ecosystem sits

on a melting cube of ice

waiting for settling tides,

for the sun to set for a cold winter

to rain hail upon smouldering life.

***

Hung Up in a Gibbet

Locked—

Hanging in a gibbet—

suspended on outskirts

a daydreamer

existing between laughs, chatter heard,

sweat-stung blisters felt—

hurt—

dreams caged in gibbet—

of feet on earth

to meet the them below,

see eye to eye,

take into soul what makes cities stir—

Delirium 

engulfed gibbet—

diminishing—

unalert

parched, pleading to be freed—

tucked in the hung’s pocket 

the gibbet’s key—

rebirth.

***

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Setu, April 2025