Lake Michigan
by Pessie Hershfeld Pomerantz
It’s been my fate now several times
to listen to the play of your waves,
to behold the rhythm of your ancient tide;
I am a splinter, just a vestige
of a tree full with branches;
I sit here at your sandy shores
thinking of young, hopeful times
with longing in my lonely silence.
My fate is to see once again
the shimmer of your waves
now blue, now green, now spectral gray,
to watch a sailboat on your back adrift
and see how your shoulders shrug, lift,
Lake Michigan, my young friend!
Picnic Boat
by Carl Sandburg
to listen to the play of your waves,
to behold the rhythm of your ancient tide;
I am a splinter, just a vestige
of a tree full with branches;
I sit here at your sandy shores
thinking of young, hopeful times
with longing in my lonely silence.
My fate is to see once again
the shimmer of your waves
now blue, now green, now spectral gray,
to watch a sailboat on your back adrift
and see how your shoulders shrug, lift,
Lake Michigan, my young friend!
Picnic Boat
by Carl Sandburg
Sunday night and the park policemen tell each other it
is dark as a stack of black cats on Lake Michigan.
A big picnic boat comes home to Chicago from the peach
farms of Saugatuck.
Hundreds of electric bulbs break the night's darkness, a
flock of red and yellow birds with wings at a standstill.
Running along the deck railings are festoons and leaping
in curves are loops of light from prow and stern
to the tall smokestacks.
Over the hoarse crunch of waves at my pier comes a
hoarse answer in the rhythmic oompa of the brasses
playing a Polish folk-song for the home-comers.
Tideless Lake
by Mae stier
is dark as a stack of black cats on Lake Michigan.
A big picnic boat comes home to Chicago from the peach
farms of Saugatuck.
Hundreds of electric bulbs break the night's darkness, a
flock of red and yellow birds with wings at a standstill.
Running along the deck railings are festoons and leaping
in curves are loops of light from prow and stern
to the tall smokestacks.
Over the hoarse crunch of waves at my pier comes a
hoarse answer in the rhythmic oompa of the brasses
playing a Polish folk-song for the home-comers.
Tideless Lake
by Mae stier
You move as though the moon
pulls you, but its sway is nominal
when compared to the wind,
the atmospheric pressure,
the will of your waves
to creep up the shore
and caress the dunes,
reminding me I do not need
a moon to move.
pulls you, but its sway is nominal
when compared to the wind,
the atmospheric pressure,
the will of your waves
to creep up the shore
and caress the dunes,
reminding me I do not need
a moon to move.
by Joe Neely, August 14, 2023
August is Lake Michigan’s way
of clearing boats from her bays
and bonfires from her beaches,
the month when cottage owners
give up the idea of staining the deck
and call local painters who promise
to look at the job after Labor Day –
a comfortable, necessary fiction
understood by painter and owner alike.
“How much longer ‘ya up here?”
is the talk at August gatherings,
while glum shopkeepers
post signs proclaiming
END OF SEASON SALE!
and lower prices to full retail.
August’s big waves and wind
chase off all but the fortunate few
and now the lake can rest.
Now she gathers her strength
to face November’s roar.
- JN
Lake Michigan
by David Watters
and bonfires from her beaches,
the month when cottage owners
give up the idea of staining the deck
and call local painters who promise
to look at the job after Labor Day –
a comfortable, necessary fiction
understood by painter and owner alike.
“How much longer ‘ya up here?”
is the talk at August gatherings,
while glum shopkeepers
post signs proclaiming
END OF SEASON SALE!
and lower prices to full retail.
August’s big waves and wind
chase off all but the fortunate few
and now the lake can rest.
Now she gathers her strength
to face November’s roar.
- JN
I published this poem last year during August, but it bears repeating. I have always loved August on Lake Michigan, whether it was riding big waves with best friends in Grand Haven or, as an adult, savoring the last days of summer at the cottage in Good Hart. My mother loved August on the Big Lake, too; August and summer-ripe tomatoes. God Bless us all. (If you have spent time in Lake Michigan resort towns, I hope you got a chuckle out of the lines about local tradespeople and shopkeepers.)
by David Watters
On the banks of Lake Michigan I found my true loves soul
tired and twisted in a wreckage of folded metal resembling avant garde sculptures
tired and twisted in a wreckage of folded metal resembling avant garde sculptures
nameless, senseless, and cold I drug her from the wreckage while the sky was painted red and black
now with the moon in my eyes I breathe life into her mouth but each breathe given means each breathe taken
as the sun begins to rise i see visions of a former life—forgotten life when we once loved each other—
when we were children dancing in the spring rain
warm and wet we embrace under endless rainbows saturated with everything under the sun
warm and wet we embrace under endless rainbows saturated with everything under the sun
we become spring rain, we become one
now with the coming of the day I say farewell to past love, I say farewell to past life
where I'm going no man can follow
where I'm going no man can follow
I'm going to the sun so I can stay warm.
Copyright © David Watters | Year Posted 2005
Lake Michigan
by Art Wielgus
Just as mirror of the sea,
Lake Michigan’s shinning big.
Boats are passing with the sails –
summer has refreshing air.
Ideal shallow to swim water –
heated, crystal air vibrates,
at trees people sit in shades,
some are playing on fine sand.
Shining with the crystal sparks,
spacious beaches - waterfront
and the Downtown stands afar.
Reddish setting sun with lure,
sky has color of vast water –
pleasant air descents cool.
Lake Michigan’s shinning big.
Boats are passing with the sails –
summer has refreshing air.
Ideal shallow to swim water –
heated, crystal air vibrates,
at trees people sit in shades,
some are playing on fine sand.
Shining with the crystal sparks,
spacious beaches - waterfront
and the Downtown stands afar.
Reddish setting sun with lure,
sky has color of vast water –
pleasant air descents cool.
Copyright © Art Wielgus | Year Posted 2016
Spring On Lake Michigan
by Jon JonesI look upon the water glittering and bright, white caps flashing, dancing diamonds in the light
The breeze is strong, crisp and clear. Boats abound jibing sails dotted far and near
A flash of white and screeching cry, seagulls appear racing through the sky
Sun on my face fills me with cheer, for finally spring is here
A flash of white and screeching cry, seagulls appear racing through the sky
Sun on my face fills me with cheer, for finally spring is here
The coast before me melds into cityscape, buildings spiraling high. Glass and steel glimmer bright in the light, stretching far before my sight
People hurry by hither and thither, and I wonder if any take a pause to consider
The beauty of this place, this breath in time, spring is here truly a moment divine
The beauty of this place, this breath in time, spring is here truly a moment divine
Copyright © Jon Jones | Year Posted 2015
Ode To the Mighty Great Lakes
by Robert Trezise Jr.
Coast to Coast
The sun ascends over the Great Lakes
Settles back into the indigo depths
Flight of a copper swan shore to shore
With her sweeping wing tips skimming
Flight of a copper swan shore to shore
With her sweeping wing tips skimming
Commanding
The azure locks of eternity to open
Gather her iron-ore souls from the cliffs
That lift along the turquoise bays
Arise
Gather her iron-ore souls from the cliffs
That lift along the turquoise bays
Arise
Our northern Holy Ghost.
These drinkable oceans are graves to glaciers
Tombs for freighters
Limestone crypts
Where condemned sailors still dance and drink
A thousand clicks amidst the ancient glow
Below Moon boulders like mobiles of suspended fish.
A thousand clicks amidst the ancient glow
Below Moon boulders like mobiles of suspended fish.
It’s as if Michigan’s peninsulas
Was its own sliding green continents
Fitting together pieces of a new planet
Waves bellow a dare to all the apocalyptic surfers
Come sail these giant breaking swells.
Though you’re a dipped hand
Waving to outer space
It’s your down-to-Earth bare cold caress
That we count on for dousing the summer steam
From our steely brow.
Michiganians
Plant your bare feet into the hot tops
Of the Sand Dunes of Sleeping Bear
Prepare an avalanche slide
From the side of your hand
A child pushing away the world’s troubles
Throw out your hard chest
Reveal your beautiful breasts
Like the goddesses and gods that you are.
Gaze out from these colossal pink shores
To the horizon that bends like a violin
Under the chin of a setting sun.
Michiganians
You are the everlasting Keepers
Of the Mighty Mighty Great Lakes.
Of the Sand Dunes of Sleeping Bear
Prepare an avalanche slide
From the side of your hand
A child pushing away the world’s troubles
Throw out your hard chest
Reveal your beautiful breasts
Like the goddesses and gods that you are.
Gaze out from these colossal pink shores
To the horizon that bends like a violin
Under the chin of a setting sun.
Michiganians
You are the everlasting Keepers
Of the Mighty Mighty Great Lakes.
Copyright © Robert Trezise Jr. | Year Posted 2018
Eternal Summer at the Lake
A poem about Lake Michigan and my family
by Jessica Archuleta
A poem about Lake Michigan and my family
by Jessica Archuleta
I want to spend
every moment I can
watching you
swim
play in the sand
laugh when the waves hit you
all at Lake Michigan.
every moment I can
watching you
swim
play in the sand
laugh when the waves hit you
all at Lake Michigan.
My burdens are lifted
seeing each of you
smiling,
being free,
toes sunk deep
in the sand,
sun shining gently
on your faces,
laughing,
chasing and teasing
dragging, tossing
one another
into the lake,
burying bodies in sand
up to the face,
attempting the world’s
largest sand fortress,
shouting loudly
when the waters rise up
washing it away.
seeing each of you
smiling,
being free,
toes sunk deep
in the sand,
sun shining gently
on your faces,
laughing,
chasing and teasing
dragging, tossing
one another
into the lake,
burying bodies in sand
up to the face,
attempting the world’s
largest sand fortress,
shouting loudly
when the waters rise up
washing it away.
If only
summer days
could live on
never end,
blocking cold out
stopping you all
from growing up,
I’d live all my days
with you at the lake.
summer days
could live on
never end,
blocking cold out
stopping you all
from growing up,
I’d live all my days
with you at the lake.
We’d never grow old
never be bored,
sailboats gliding by
kites flying high
capturing our
imaginations,
taco truck
snack shop
ice cream truck
quick run to the store
refilling the cooler
and picnic basket,
all would provide
our food,
a roaring hot fire
at night
to stay warm,
start fresh at sunrise
ready to swim
happy to play
never packing up
staying always
together
on the shores
of Lake Michigan.
never be bored,
sailboats gliding by
kites flying high
capturing our
imaginations,
taco truck
snack shop
ice cream truck
quick run to the store
refilling the cooler
and picnic basket,
all would provide
our food,
a roaring hot fire
at night
to stay warm,
start fresh at sunrise
ready to swim
happy to play
never packing up
staying always
together
on the shores
of Lake Michigan.
At Burt Lake
by Tom Andrews
To disappear into the right words
and to be their meanings. . .
October dusk.
Pink scraps of clouds, a plum-colored sky.
The sycamore tree spills a few leaves.
The cold focuses like a lens. . .
Now night falls, its hair
caught in the lake's eye.
Such clarity of things. Already
I've said too much. . .
Lord,
language must happen to you
the way this black pane of water,
chipped and blistered with stars,
happens to me.
and to be their meanings. . .
October dusk.
Pink scraps of clouds, a plum-colored sky.
The sycamore tree spills a few leaves.
The cold focuses like a lens. . .
Now night falls, its hair
caught in the lake's eye.
Such clarity of things. Already
I've said too much. . .
Lord,
language must happen to you
the way this black pane of water,
chipped and blistered with stars,
happens to me.
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