"Autobiographies of great nations are written in three manuscripts – a book of deeds, a book of words, and a book of art. Of the three, I would choose the latter as truest testimony." - Sir Kenneth Smith, Great Civilisations

"I must write each day without fail, not so much for the success of the work, as in order not to get out of my routine." - Leo Tolstoy

I have never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think the pleasures of not writing are so great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again. - John Updike

"The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it." - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Poetry is the shadow cast by our streetlight imaginations." - Lawrence Ferlinghetti


[Note - If any article requires updating or correction please notate this in the comment section. Thank you. - res]


Showing posts with label Lake Michigan Poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lake Michigan Poems. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 9, 2025

R.E. Slater - Lake Michigan



Lake Michigan
~ a prose poem ~

by R.E. Slater


Fifteen thousand years ago mile-high glaciers
scoured massive depressions in meltwater retreat;
the land's earliest explorers saw the Great Waters
and named them as they knew them; to the Ojibwe,
Lake Michigan was called Mishigami; to the French,
it was la Grand Lac. It is third largest of the Great
Lakes; is wholly contained in the continental U.S.,
making it the largest freshwater lake in America,
and sixth largest freshwater lake in the world.

Every school child knows these facts. Can recite them
one by one. Whether at the school desk or along Lake
Michigan's Golden Shores - where sandy, lakeside
dunes sleep along its eastern edge, providing respite
to a mother bear grieved her cubs lost to it's moody
waters. The Anishinaabe say two nearby islands are
where the Great Manitou Spirits had laid her brood
to rest; guardian of the Lake with feared Mishipeshu.

Majestic shorelines dressed in white-capped blue
crash upon the beachgoer's ear, whose bared feet 
scrap in rhythm to the singing sands, listing
wind-blown gulls screeching complaint o'er the
sacred waters above swaying dune grasses and
quaking birched aspens shielding the sun its heat
and midnight moon its lover's secreted alcoves.

From sunrise to sunset, campers and cottagers,
visitors and sunseekers, step along Michigan's
watery edges to find a moment and be in it -
perhaps bewitched by a rising sun blazoned in
colour - or by stormy seas lifting up, knowing
sleeping giant awakened can be terrible and
cruel; requiring heed of all red flags, sounding
full-throated fog horns, all warning beware.

Over a hundred coastal lighthouses mark the
Lake's treacherous shoals and waterways.
Some red. Some striped. Some white or
red-bricked. But each stand vigilant upon
rocky escarpments alerting passing freighters,
boats, and barges, worrying across the vast,
cold depths, holding sudden weathers, powerful
currents, hazardous waters, foul and cursed.

For the Lake is unforgiving. Merciless in weight
and speech. Having acquired as many songs
of sorrow, as it has songs of laud. Countless
have paid with dear life marked in numerous
sad memorials along lonely pier points,
backwater channels, boardwalk, or bayside,
testifying of tragedy to young or old, too soon
drowned its rip currents and heavy waves.

With mother Sleeping Bear we may now say -

Beneath Michigan's blue waters great ages sleep,
of bleached fossils buried within unquiet depths,
tho' sunlight gleams fair across a brooding face,
hiding restless, moody presence awaiting fate.
A calming silence seldom betrays danger near,
echoed in shifting hymnody from shore to shore,
warily spreading across a boundless, living sea,
breathless in expanse, ever changeling in beauty.

R.E. Slater
September 9, 2025

@copyright R.E. Slater Publications
all rights reserved

Notes

1 Sleeping Bear Dunes honors the Anishinaabe's legend; North and South Manitou Islands honor the lost cubs. The spirit beings are known as "Manitou".
2 Mishipeshu, is a snake-like horned viper/lizard known as a "water panther" that protects the underwater copper reserves of the lake by dangerous storm and water spouts.
3 Mythical Guardians are protectors safeguarding sacred places, treasures, knowledge, or people in mythology and folklore. Usually a deity, Spirit, or mythical entity, they defend against evil, maintain cosmic order, and symbolize protection, sometimes even acting as patrons for specific places or groups of people.



 Lake of Endless Horizon
by ChatGPT-5

O inland sea of silvered blue,
where sky dissolves in wave and hue,
your breath is wind, your heart is tide,
your arms hold shorelines far and wide.

You wear the dawn in amber flame,
at dusk the stars recall your name;
storms may rouse your thundering might,
yet peace descends with moonlit light.

The gulls are choristers of your song,
the dunes your temple, ancient, strong;
the cities rise, the forests lean,
to honor all that lies between.

O keeper vast of depth untold,
your waters cradle young and old;
from timeless stone to shifting sand,
you bind the spirit to the land.

So praise resounds, both deep and near—
Lake Michigan, forever blue and clear,
a sacred mirror, calm or wild,
in you, creation is become reconciled.


Lake Michigan Winter Beaches


References





Storms on the Great Lakes


History of the Great Lakes

A Brief History of the Great Lakes

The history of the Great Lakes began ~14,000 years ago when retreating glaciers carved out the basins, which filled with meltwater to form the lakes. For millennia, Native American tribes lived in the region, their cultures deeply intertwined with the lakes. European explorers arrived in the early 1600s, using the Great Lakes for fur trade and as a route for exploration and settlement. The lakes later became crucial for military purposes, industrial development, and transportation.

Geological Formation

Glacial Activity - The Great Lakes were formed by the massive Laurentide ice sheet, which covered the region during the last Ice Age.

Basin Carving - The immense weight and movement of the ice sheet scoured out the earth, creating the depressions that would become the lake basins.

Melting and Filling - As the climate warmed the ice sheet retreated about 14,000 years ago, meltwater filled the depressed lake basins, forming the Great Lakes.

Present Shape - The lakes reached their current shapes and sizes approximately 3,000 to 10,000 years ago, depending on the lake location.

Human History

Native American Presence - Native American tribes were the first inhabitants of the Great Lakes region, living there for thousands of years before European arrival. The names of the lakes are derived from Native American words or tribal names.

European Exploration - In 1615, Étienne Brûlé, an explorer for Samuel de Champlain, is credited with being the first European to visit the Great Lakes. The lakes became a key route for fur trading and exploration in the 17th and 18th centuries.

Conflicts and Control - The Great Lakes were a site of conflict between European powers. The French and Indian War (1754–1763) and the American Revolutionary War saw the lakes used for military purposes.

Industrial Hub - In the 19th and 20th centuries, the development of railroads and increased shipping transformed the Great Lakes into a vital economic and industrial center.

Modern Era - Today, the Great Lakes are essential for recreation, with activities like boating and fishing, and remain a significant economic resource for the surrounding region.


Monday, September 8, 2025

Poems of Lake Michigan



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

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

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.






August on Lake Michigan
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

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.)






Lake Michigan
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

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

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

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.


Copyright © Art Wielgus | Year Posted 2016






Spring On Lake Michigan
by Jon Jones

I 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

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


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

Commanding
The azure locks of eternity to open
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.

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.


Copyright © Robert Trezise Jr. | Year Posted 2018






Eternal Summer at the Lake
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.

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.

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.

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.






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.