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Tiger Tales (Poems and Stories)
LN-4 Prosthetic Hand Project
Look at a live body mangled
or deformed,
A life full of shame and despair,Touch where few have ventured,
And ask what works? Do you feel pain?
See into the eyes, sharing one's love, bearing both souls.
Fitting and teaching how to use a new hand,
To grasp, write, eat, clean, and use where use has been denied.
One woman lost an arm fending off a machete attack,
With her new hand she could now hold a rag and clean her home,
She kissed our hands.
One man hid his arm from his wife with a shawl, for life,
With his new hand he swung the shawl up in the air,
And danced, full of joy, full of life!
Many smiles, many hugs, many tears,
We will share in our minds for years.
Thank you members of the Rotary Club of Redding,
For your "I'll give a hand" help,
Thanks to our Colombian volunteers,
And our Rotaract/Rotary friends,
97 people now have a hand.
Our shared love and goodwill,
Will live on in the green mountains and valleys,
Of coffee and sugar cane.
Viva Colombia! |
My thoughts of our travels in central Colombia,
South America.
Fitting LN-4 hands in the cities of Pereira,
Tulua, and Cali.
February 28 to March 11, 2008.
Tiger Joe Michiels
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Six & Seven
Before 6 & 7 were alive,
Lines of wire about 5' up,
Ran from Oak to Oak,
Dog leach, attached to the wire,
Let dog One, run.
Now 6 & 7 were alive,
And they too had to run,
Up and down the leach wire hill,
Between the Oaks and spring,
Where the water ran free.
Now hunting was their favorite,
Bear, Cougar, Raccoon, & Bob Cat,
To track, chase, and tree,
And howl all night if need be,
6 & 7 were in heaven, don't ya see.
And so was me!
At night you would hear them,
Let out a lasting howl,
You'd get up, grab your flashlight, and your gun,
Run out the door, on the porch,
And listen in the dark, a howl!
Up Coarsgold creek we ran,
Rock hopping across the water,
Up the granite ledge
To a big old Oak tree
Where 6 & 7 be.
Shining for the eyes,
Waiting to see red,
There he was,
A big old Coon,
6 & 7 wanted dead.
Raccoon! Raccoon!
That big old Coon,
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He sat up in that tree,
A looking down below,
At Dad, 6, 7 and me.
With 6 & 7 barking at the base of the Oak,
And Coon out on a tree limb,
Looking, then jumped,
He landed right in front of me,
With one way left to go.
Right between my legs he ran,
Then 6 & 7, bam, bam, they hit,
Upended, over I went,
Off the granite ledge,
Into Coarsgold Creek.
That Coon took off a running,
He didn't look back to see,
One wet hunter and his dogs,
Tangled up in a creek,
That was, 6,7, and me.
Good to be alive in 1958,
Bill & Kay Lorentzen's
Coarsegold Cabin on Coarsegold Creek
Coarsegold, California.
Tiger Joe Michiels
April 16, 2006
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NEW
MEXICO MORN'EN
COW
BELL TIME
It'ed be dang dark
when Dad threw ya out,
and yed land in the dirt
on your butt or your snout,
you'ed head round the house
tween outhouse and barn,
a huggen yer self
try'en ta keep warm,
listen fer the Bell
ya know its out there,
water trough ? corral ? out back ?
not so easy for me
any morning it seems,
she must be out front
in the sage, by the stream !
so dark ya can't see
the dust at your knee,
but the sweet smell of sage
ah the Bell glory be !
where ya be girl
I heard ya move round,
can't see ya fer noth'en
but the Bell made a sound,
so's I know in the general
direction to head,
way out in the morning darkness
I've been lead,
with now so many thoughts in my head.
I knew many had walked
here way before me,
as a brave Indian boy
a Zuni told me,
the night be it time
for spirits abound,
and I knew many were near
buried in the ground,
but they danced with a boy
in the darkness fore light,
and the stars were the fire
of each one's candle light,
as dawn drew the fire
from the night,
I bid them farewell,
to look for the Bell.
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THERE
SHE WAS !
with a ring'en and a ding'en
of the Bell,
she'd made a jump
so'ed I'ed hear her so well,
round her back I would run
and sound off a gun,
if I had one !
but better I know'ed
slow as she goes,
the leather and Bell sound
now turn her round,
touch her nose,
slow as she goes,
back through the dawn
in the sage and the pine,
through Tiger Gate
to the home of mine.
Back past the house
and the horse shoe shack,
to the big old log barn
that sat out back,
now morn'en had come
and we all knew well,
by the ring'en and a ding'en
of the Bell,
that the barn door be'd open
and there'd be Dad,
with a few kids and cats
kids diaper clad,
turn round to utter
and point'en a tit,
squirt'en in a bucket
kid or kit !
Morn'en Cow Bell
Seven
Troughs Ranch
Apache
Creek,
New
Mexico
Good
to be alive in 1955,
Tiger
Michiels, 1986
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Wash'en Machine
It used to be human,
Like you and me.
It sat down by a river, stream, or brook,
It never rattled and shook.
As it got old,
It may have fell in,
Way before dials and buttons
Of wash, rinse, and spin.
Time has changed it
Down through the years,
It grew a tub, washer, wringer, and gears.
It still needed a human
To help get the clothes clean,
For it was only half a machine.
Now full grown
As it seems to me,
Keeping cloths clean
For my family.
Sitting in the laundry room hall
It doesn't rattle at all !
Hands don't meet river, stream, or brook.
From me
Wash'en machine,
These senses you've took.
But you've given me the time
To write these words of mine,
About you.
Think of all the things
We no longer say or do,
Were all once very human
Like me and you.
Written at 4:30 AM
Did laundry at 5:30 AM
July 11, 1984
Tiger Joe Michiels
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