Early Poems Xix

EARLY POEMS XIX Bound by Michael R. Burch Now it is winter—the coldest night. And as the light of the streetlamp casts strange shadows to the ground, I have lost what I once found in your arms. Now it is winter—the coldest night. And as the light of distant Venus fails to penetrate dark panes, I have remade all my chains and am bound. Published as “Why Did I Go?” in my high school journal, The Lantern 130 Refuted by Michael R. Burch My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red ... — Shakespeare, Sonnet 130 Seas that sparkle in the sun without its light would have no beauty; but the light within your eyes is theirs alone; it owes no duty. And that flame, not half as bright, is meant for me, and brings delight. Coral formed beneath the sea, though scarlet-tendriled, cannot warm me; while your lips, not half so red, just touching mine, at once inflame me. And the searing flames your lips arouse fathomless oceans fail to douse. Bright roses’ brief affairs, declared when winter comes, will wither quickly. Your cheeks, though paler when compared with them?—more lasting, never prickly. And your cheeks, so dear and warm, far vaster treasures, need no thorns. I believe I wrote this poem as a college freshman, age 18. With my daughter, by a waterfall by Michael R. Burch By a fountain that slowly shed its rainbows of water, I led my youngest daughter. And the rhythm of the waves that casually lazed made her sleepy as I rocked her. By that fountain I finally felt fulfillment of which I had dreamt feeling May’s warm breezes pelt petals upon me. And I held her close in the crook of my arm as she slept, breathing harmony. By a river that brazenly rolled, my daughter and I strolled toward the setting sun, and the cadence of the cold, chattering waters that flowed reminded us both of an ancient song, so we sang it together as we walked along ?unsure of the words, but sure of our love? as a waterfall sighed and the sun died above. This poem was published by my college literary journal, Homespun, in 1977. I believe I wrote around age 18. Keywords/Tags: early, early poems, juvenilia, sun, red, lips, seas, light, flame, fire, oceans, roses, thorns, winter, cheeks, waterfall, daughter, rose, roses are red