The Tattooed Poets Project: Michael Henry Lee

Beginning in the second year of the Tattooed Poets Project, we experienced the thrill of having poets from previous years return to share more ink.



This year is no exception, and the first of two repeat contributors is Michael Henry Lee.



Last year, he contributed "work inspired by his spiritual convictions, with work spanning three decades by three artists in three very distinct parts of the country."



"This year" he informs us, "reveals a more earthy side; with work again spanning three decades by two artists from the heart of America and the sunshine state."

Photo by Chris Bodor 

Michael Henry Lee explains:

"The piece began with the oh so typical heart and initials by [his] then girlfriend and now wife of over thirty years. Gradually several butterflies,
stars, comets, clouds, and lightning were all added by a Kansas City Missouri artist named John. Fast forward to Saint Augustine, Florida, and a great shop called Tattoo Garden, owned and operated by a super artist Tattoo Mike. He re-colored and revitalized the original piece on [my] last birthday
and soon after the kanji for poet and the cherry blossoms were added."

Mr. Lee got the kanji to remind him "of the gift he has been given to pursue and ... the cherry blossoms celebrate the beauty and brevity of the life
in which he has to pursue it."



Mr. Lee provided us with the following poems, which originally appeared in Haiku News in response to various news stories. They are the sole
property of Mr. Lee and may not be used without his explicit permission.

~ ~ ~

sobriety checkpoint

the nation’s oldest city

comes of age



buyer’s market-

the realtor kept insisting

till the bitter end



in less time than it took

to say we’re sorry

you were gone



consulting the stars

all the laws of probability

contained on a pinhead



parent teacher day-

the class turtle

fends for itself



mother’s day

something inside us

can’t let go

~ ~ ~

Michael lives in the nation's oldest city with his wife,  two cats ,and numerous bonsai trees. His work has appeared in The Heron's Nest, Icebox. Berry Blue Haiku, The Mainichi Daily News, and Haiku News.
His most recent award was a first place in the traditional category and runner up in the contemporary category for the 2012 Haiku Now National Haiku Foundation contest.

Thanks to Michael Henry Lee for contributing again to the Tattooed Poets Project! Be sure to check out his contribution from last year, as well, in case you missed it.

This entry is ©2012 Tattoosday. The poems and tattoo are reprinted with the poet's explicit permission. 

If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

The Tattooed Poets Project: Amy Rafferty

Today's tattooed poet is Amy Rafferty.

Amy narrates her history of getting tattooed:

 "I've never been that sure why I got my tattoos and to be honest I'd probably put it down to poor impulse control.

I got my first when I was seventeen. Me and my friend Suzy were wondering around bored one day and we found ourselves looking in the window at Terry's Tattoo Studio. We could see all the big, hard men in there, grimacing and posing, with their arms covered in thistles and doves and black panthers.

To us it looked dead exciting and grown up and 'cool' and so we snuck in for a closer look.

An hour later we came out, all red-faced and tearfuI, me with a butterfly on my stomach and Suzy with a flaming heart on her shoulder.

We thought we were pure rock 'n' roll but we were too scared to tell our parents what we'd done.

We both left it at that but then, ten years later, I got a Chinese good luck symbol on my back, ostensibly to bring me good luck but mostly it was to impress a sailor I was keen on.



My dragon was next and that was to show I was brave (or getting braver) and the flowers on my leg started off as a single bud from when my friend Polly and I went to get tattoos together and over the years the bud has grown. I think there's some meaning in that.

In 2007 my Dad died suddenly and I had this strange instinct to let him know that I was okay, that I was coping, and so I think that's why my flower grew as it did. 

And if somehow my Dad was aware of all this? Well he'd probably be shaking his head and saying ruefully "daft lassie, what are ye up to now?"

I love the idea of that. He thought when it came to making big, life-changing decisions that I was an idiot and yes, he was probably right but he also showed a grudging and loving admiration for my impulsive side. 

For now, I think I'm done with tattoos, but you never can tell when I'll take a wee notion for another."

It's cool seeing the evolution of this, Amy's floral tattoo, that has grown along with her.



She sent us this lovely poem:





Directions.



What you remember of them most is



that they could not stop talking,

and that the road from Inverardran veered left,

and took you from the kirk by the Toll

of Atholl to the Shoulder’s Choke

where you heard them both,

heralding their own as the worst.



Then by Stob Binnien,

shrouded in cloud and the eldest,

who sucked black mints,

black-tongued, bright-eyed and spry.

She picked at stitches and thought aloud

if it had been made in ‘Ehberdeen’

then it would have been made fitter

for its own purposes.



And the younger, the witcher,

the one you loved,

all hook-eyed and pleasure driven,

passing the pretty lace between them.

She pulled it through but worse

this time, tighter, the threads biting.

She winked at you, slowly, dropping a lid

and said “it just depends who you know”



And then Ben More and the great pools,

the flooded lights of Saint Fillan,

patron saint of the mad and the over-bound



and between them, a circle of pretty white lace,

holding them both together.

~ ~ ~

Amy Rafferty is a Glaswegian living in the West Midlands. Her poetry and prose can be found in several anthologies and publications, both on-line and off.



In 2009 she received a highly-commended mention for her poetry collection, Pétursdóttir and the Land of Tiny Voices and in 2010, two of her poems were short listed for the international Fish poetry prize. Amy is a postgraduate student of Creative Writing at Glasgow University and sings with the cult, Glasgow band, The Recovery Club. She is also the baby in the graveyard scene of the original Wicker Man movie but she doesn't like to talk about it. 




If you should wish, you can hear Amy singing here.



Thanks to Amy for sharing her words and ink with us here on Tattoosday!



This entry is ©2012 Tattoosday. The poem and tattoos are reprinted with the poet's permission. 




 If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.