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Epigrams by Michael R. Burch



Negligibles
by Michael R. Burch
 
Show me your most intimate items of apparel:
begin with the hem of your quicksilver slip ...



Negotiables
by Michael R. Burch

Love should be more than the sum of its parts:
of its potions and pills and subterranean arts.



Her Answer (Sappho, fragment 155)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
 
A short revealing frock?
It's just my luck
your lips were made to mock!
 

 
Sappho, fragment 22
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
 
That enticing girl's clinging dresses
leave me trembling, overcome by happiness,
as once, when I saw the Goddess in my prayers
eclipsing Cyprus.
 

 
Imperfect Perfection
by Michael R. Burch
 
You’re too perfect for words:
a problem for a poet.
 

 
Expert Advice
by Michael R. Burch
 
Your breasts are perfect for your lithe, slender body.
Please stop making false comparisons your hobby!
 

 
Excerpt from Love Sonnet XVII
by Pablo Neruda
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
 
I do not love you like coral or topaz,
or the blazing hearth’s incandescent white flame;
I love you as obscure things are embraced in the dark ...
secretly, in shadows, unnamed & untamed.
 

 
Every Day You Play
by Pablo Neruda
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
 
Every day you play with Infinity’s rays.
Exquisite visitor, you arrive with the flowers and the water.
You are vastly more than this immaculate head I clasp tightly
like a cornucopia, every day, between my hands ...
 

 
I love you only because I love you
by Pablo Neruda
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
 
I love you only because I love you;
I am torn between loving and not loving you,
Between apathy and desire.
My heart vacillates between ice and fire.
 

 
Duet, Minor Key
by Michael R. Burch
 
Without the drama of cymbals
or the fanfare and snares of drums,
I present my case
stripped of its fine veneer:
Behold, thy instrument. 

Play, for the night is long.
 

 
Inconstant Temptress
by Michael R. Burch
 
Love, beautiful but fatal
to many bewildered hearts,
commands us to be faithful,
then tempts us with sweets and tarts.
 

 
Sudden Shower
by Michael R. Burch
 
The day’s eyes were blue
until you appeared
and they wept at your beauty.
 

 
Kissin’ ’n’ buzzin’
by Michael R. Burch
 
Kissin’ ’n’ buzzin’
the bees rise
in a dizzy circle of two.
Oh, when I’m with you,
I feel like kissin’ ’n’ buzzin’ too!
 

 
Warming Her Pearls
by Michael R. Burch
 
Warming her pearls,
her breasts gleam like constellations.
Her belly is a bit rotund ...
she might have stepped out of a Rubens.
 

 
Dark Cloud, Silver Lining
from “Love in the Time of the Coronavirus”
by Michael R. Burch
 
Despite my stormy demeanor,
my hands have never been cleaner!
 

 
Questionable Credentials
by Michael R. Burch
 
Poet? Critic? Dilettante?
Do you know what's good, or do you merely flaunt?
 
Published by Asses of Parnassus
 

 
Delicacy
by Michael R. Burch
 
for all good mothers
 
Your love is as delicate
as a butterfly cleaning its wings,
as soft as the predicate
the hummingbird sings
to itself, gently murmuring?
“Fly! Fly! Fly!”
Your love is the string
soaring kites untie.


 
The Po' Biz Explained
by Michael R. Burch 

A poet may work from sun to sun,
but his editor's work is never done.

The editor’s work is never done.
The critic adjusts his cummerbund.

While the critic adjusts his cummerbund,
the audience exits to mingle and slum.

As the audience exits to mingle and slum,
the anthologist rules, a pale jury of one.


 
The Secret of Her Clothes
by Michael R. Burch
 
The secret of her clothes
is that they whisper a little mysteriously
of things unseen

in the language of nylon and cotton,
so that when she walks
to her amorous drawers

to rummage among the embroidered hearts
and rumors of pastel slips
for a white wisp of Victorian lace,

the delicate rustle of fabric on fabric,
the slightest whisper of telltale static,
electrifies me.

Published by Erosha, Velvet Avalanche (Anthology) and Poetry Life & Times
 
 

The Greatest of These ...
by Michael R. Burch
 
The hands that held me tremble.
The arms that lifted
fall.
 
Angelic flesh, now parchment,
is held together with gauze.
 
But her undimmed eyes still embrace me;
there infinity can be found.

I can almost believe such love
will reach me, underground.



honeybee
by Michael R. Burch

love was a little treble thing—
prone to sing
and (sometimes) to sting



honeydew, honeydont
by Michael R. Burch

i sampled honeysuckle
and it made my taste buds buckle!



Ceaseless chaos—
ice floes clash
in the Soya straits.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Banish the snow
for the human torpedo
now lies exploded.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

(My interpretation is that this haiku is about WWII kamikaze pilots. Winter is metaphorically the season of death and snow may be seen as a shroud for the dead.)

The sky hangs low
over Karafuto,
as white as the spawning herring.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Finally
the cicadas stopped shrilling:
calm before gale.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As grief becomes unbearable
someone snaps a nearby branch.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As grief reaches its breaking point
someone snaps a nearby branch.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Trapped in the spider’s web
the firefly’s bulb
blinks out forever.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Trapped in the spider’s web
The firefly’s light
Is swiftly consumed.
—Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Keywords: epigram, epigrams, epitaph, eulogy, death, obituary, love, introspection, intimacy, intimate, apparel, clothing, clothes, dress, dresses, body, breasts, heart, hearts, desire, passion, longing, short, brief, poems, poetry
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