Epigrams Iv

EPIGRAMS IV Improve yourself by others' writings, attaining freely what they purchased at the expense of experience. —Socrates, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I didn’t mean to love you, but I did. Best leave the rest unsaid, hid- den and unbidden. —Michael R. Burch What is life? The flash of a firefly. The breath of the winter buffalo. The shadow scooting across the grass that vanishes with sunset. —Blackfoot saying, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch You imagine life is good, but have you actually understood? —Michael R. Burch Living with a body ain’t much fun. Harder, still, to live without one. Whatever happened to our day in the sun? —Michael R. Burch How little remains of our joys and our pains. How little remains of our losses and gains. How little remains of whatever remains. —Michael R. Burch Sometimes I feel better, it’s true, but mostly I’m still not over you. —Michael R. Burch Don’t let the past defeat you. Learn from it, but don’t dwell. Have no regrets at “farewell.” —Michael R. Burch Haughty moon, when did I ever trouble you, insomnia’s co-conspirator! —Michael R. Burch Every day’s a new chance to lose weight, but most likely, I’ll ... procrastinate ... —Michael R. Burch Big Ben ***** by Michael R. Burch Early to bed, hurriedly to rise makes a man stealthy, and that’s why he’s wealthy: what the hell is he doing behind your closed eyes? Friend, how you’ll squirm when you belatedly learn that you’re the worm! Pecking Disorder by Michael R. Burch Love has a pecking order, or maybe a dis-order, a hell we recognize if we merely open our eyes: the attractive win at birth, while those of ample girth are deemed of little worth from Nottingham to Perth. Tease by Michael R. Burch It’s what you always say, okay? It’s what you always say: C’mon let’s play, roll in the hay, It’s what you always say. Ole! But little do you do, it’s true. But little do you do. A little diddle, run to piddle... we never really screw! That’s you! Observance (II) by Michael R. Burch The trees are in their autumn beauty, majestic to the eye. Whoever felt as I, whoever felt them doomed to die despite their flamboyant colors? They seem like knights of dismal countenance... as if, windmills themselves, they might tilt with the bloody sky. And yet their favors gaily fly! KEYWORDS/TAGS: epigram, epigrams, love, life, living, fun, sun, joy, pain, past, sad, sadness, Blackfoot, Native American, winter buffalo