Tribute to Michael
A brief glimpse of Michale’s life journey
Michael never heard himself described as a Poet of Praise.
Yet those words are borrowed to mark his grave.
A poet seeking to re-unite with the vibrancy of Mother Nature.
Michael is the Love of my Life.
A father, father-in-law, and grandfather to children of a previous marriage.
Children he carried deep in his heart,
Tugged deep in his soul like the last breath of Life.
A husband, nurturing our marriage of three decades,
Protecting my fragile spirit while encouraging me to soar.
A man born to help others,
With engineering skills that mastered inanimate objects to change the world around him.
A friend – loyal and forgiving,
Until he felt disrespected and then he suffered no fool’s gold
Speaking his mind with pride and clarity.
Michael’s final gift to me was a book tour,
In-between chemo sessions, he spent hours on the phone,
Scheduling readings with Independents and Conglomerates.
Barnes and Noble; Inquiring Minds; from PA to Gloucester, Mass
And a midnight ride through the Southwest; Amy’s Bookcase was the best.
Our final summer ended on Halloween night,
We flew home from San Antonio, Texas the next day.
Once again, Michael lifted me so I could soar to new heights.
Michael passed on a Monday morning-
His love lingers like a spring morning one does not want to give up.
Michael Edward Ruane Gibbons was indeed a Rambling Boy –
Traveling the world; seeing and praising its elemental beauty,
Cautioning those like me to slow down and notice-
For life must be savored and touched.
– Marta Elva Gibbons
RAMBLING BOY - Poetry by Michael Gibbons
Michael Gibbons had the common touch, as they say, the love of others and the ability to express this love in the way he moved, talked and wrote poems. Michael’s poetic skills emerged later in life but it had always been inside him like an orbit of energy that wanted to come out, and finally did. When that happened, he wrote as if it were as natural as breathing. He breathes deep in this book of poems that was written in spurts shortly before his passing. He seemed to know that he was a poet of praise seeking to re-unite himself with the vibrancy of Mother Nature. Many of his best poems seem like songs and he titled the book Rambling Boy partly because of this, but also because he was, in fact, a rambling boy, who went round and about the world seeing and praising the simple, elemental beauties that others, maybe in too much of a hurry, missed. Now he is the one missed, but thankfully we have his poems. – Gerald Hausman
Before the Dawn
Each morning when we rise
My lover and I
She with her tea
Me with my coffee.
We sit in the dark on the patio
Under the arbor entwined with greenery
A gentle breeze kisses our faces.
The water before us
Only sensed, not seen
For it is before the dawn
Yet you can tell the time.
With the first rays of light
The Carville Jack arrive
Their feeding frenzy begins
Water thrashing, fish jumping.
With the dawning of the dawn
The clouds take on colors of pastels
Pinks and purples arise
Now the birds arrive.
From their slumber
A wide variety of birds
Always flying west to east.
As morning breaks
The sun’s rays become stronger
Heat rises and pastels of the sky turn blue.
Time to start the day
Until the sun sets again in Matlacha.
Michael Gibbons 2015
