Why Live This Long?

The thought presents –
Why live this long?
What more to do,
Once sung my song?

The arch of life
Made sense to me.
With work in hand –
While serving Thee.

Great tasks complete,
Hills have been scaled.
Success achieved –
Opponents failed.

I turn to Him,
Creator true.
Ask guidance now –
What more to do?

In silence wait
For His reply.
New paths to walk?
What new to try?

We seek our purpose,
As all men do,
While birds that fly
Live nature true.

Life as mystery –
Remains unsolved.
God’s hand on us,
Our fates resolved.


Your Ring

What is this thing
Around your finger,
That tells all men
No chance to linger?

It’s silver or gold,
A-topped with stone,
Tells all around
“I’m not alone.”

It came with vows
Of deepest meaning,
For upright life –
Foreswear all leaning.

It holds you tight
In times of sadness,
And reminds you of
Your inner gladness.

So, wear it proud
Each day be true,
As he does his
And thinks of you.


Our Morning Bus

Every morning
At 7 a.m.,
He stops the bus –
Just where I am.

The door he opens,
The stairs I mount.
I take my seat,
And look about.

With Cliff, our driver,
I share a tale.
He shares one back,
As we set sail.

I see my friends,
Fair Mary Anne,
Sally, Pete,
And “Stan the Man”.

We know each other
Thanks to the bus.
Our ride each day
Enriches us.

Of work, we speak,
And football, too.
How ‘bout those Cubs –
Now “Let’s play two!”

We share our photos
Of kids and pets –
Our tennis stories
Of balls and nets.

We speak of weather,
And vacation plans –
Of Presidents,
And “also rans”…

As children grow,
We update all.
She’s in college –
He had a fall…

As we change jobs,
They ask us “Why?”
They want to know
What new we’ll try.

When challenge comes,
They bolster us,
On our birthdays
They make a fuss!

We reminisce
About our past –
Of days now gone,
Whose memories last.

Then it’s time
To ring the bell,
We leave our bus
And wish each well.

While walking then
To our work places,
We think of each –
Their smiling faces.

It’s part of life,
Our secret club –
We’re now all friends
Fingers in glove.


Michael Charles Maibach began writing poems at age nine.  Since then he has continued writing poems, and sharing them with friends.  In November 2015 he opened a Facebook page – Poems of Michael Charles Maibach.  It offers 140 poems written since then.  In 2017 he will re-launch the www.MaibachPoems.us website.  His career has involved global business diplomacy.  He is a native of Peoria, Illinois.  Today Michael resides in Old Town Alexandria, Virginia.    

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6 Responses

  1. Amy Foreman

    Such likable poems, Michael–I especially enjoyed the first . . .

  2. Sally Cook

    You and your poems are among the most thoughtful and honest I have read in a long time. So many people lose the ability to confront the world straight on – I see you have not, and respect you for it.

    I hope to see more of your work.


  3. Alan J. Blaustein

    In other comments I’ve used the word “delighted” and here I’m using it again to refer to your poetry. Your lines scan, showing fine use of dimeter. Your “nonce” rhyme scheme is interesting, x-a-b-a.

  4. Joan Fullmore

    You bring poetry to the simple meaningful everyday experience. You have made your friends on the bus immortal.

  5. David Hollywood

    Very lovely, and ‘Why Live This Long’ feels as a prayer.

  6. Hugh Mann


    Religions are based on scripture, which is mostly poetry. So it only makes sense that religious conflict must be resolved through poetry, and not through politics, negotiation, or war. I propose that all religious conflicts be redefined poetically, so that they can be resolved without bloodshed, winners, or losers. So let’s sharpen our words, not our swords; send missives, not missiles; and apply our minds to metaphor, simile, rhyme, meter, and prosody, but not pomposity, animosity, ferocity, atrocity, or monstrosity.

    Best regards,
    Hugh Mann

    EMAIL: hughmannorganicmd@gmail.com
    WEBSITE: http://www.organicMD.org
    E-BOOK: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BWSW76E


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