Poems About Laughter, Giggles and Smiles
Here and Hereafter
by Michael R. Burch
Life’s saving graces are love, pleasure, laughter ...
wisdom, it seems, is for the Hereafter.
Laughter’s Cry
by Michael R. Burch
Because life is a mystery, we laugh
and do not know the half.
Because death is a mystery, we cry
when one is gone, our numbering thrown awry.
Love Is Not Love
by Michael R. Burch
Love is not love that never looked
within itself and questioned all,
curled up like a zygote in a ball,
throbbed, sobbed and shook.
(Or went on a binge at a nearby mall,
then would not cook.)
Love is not love that never winced,
then smiled, convinced
that soar’s the prerequisite of fall.
When all
its wounds and scars have been saline-rinsed,
where does Love find the wherewithal
to try again,
endeavor, when
all that it knows
is: O, because!
The Folly of Wisdom
by Michael R. Burch
She is wise in the way that children are wise,
looking at me with such knowing, grave eyes
I must bend down to her to understand.
But she only smiles, and takes my hand.
We are walking somewhere that her feet know to go,
so I smile, and I follow ...
And the years are dark creatures concealed in bright leaves
that flutter above us, and what she believes?
I can almost remember?goes something like this:
the prince is a horned toad, awaiting her kiss.
She wiggles and giggles, and all will be well
if only we find him! The woodpecker’s knell
as he hammers the coffin of some dying tree
that once was a fortress to someone like me
rings wildly above us. Some things that we know
we are meant to forget. Life is a bloodletting, maple-syrup-slow.
Mother’s Smile
by Michael R. Burch
There never was a fonder smile
than mother's smile, no softer touch
than mother's touch. So sleep awhile
and know she loves you more than "much".
So more than "much", much more than "all".
Though tender words, these do not speak
of love at all, nor how we fall
and mother's there, nor how we reach
from nightmares in the ticking night
and she is there to hold us tight.
There never was a stronger back
than father's back, that held our weight
and lifted us, when we were small,
and bore us till we reached the gate,
then held our hands that first bright mile
till we could run, and did, and flew.
But, oh, a mother's tender smile
will leap and follow after you ...
Just Smile
by Michael R. Burch
We’d like to think some angel smiling down
will watch him as his arm bleeds in the yard,
ripped off by dogs, will guide his tipsy steps,
his doddering progress through the scarlet house
to tell his mommy "boo-boo!," only two.
We’d like to think his reconstructed face
will be as good as new, will often smile,
that baseball’s just as fun with just one arm,
that God is always Just, that girls will smile,
not frown down at his thousand livid scars,
that Life is always Just, that Love is Just.
We do not want to hear that he will shave
at six, to raze the leg hairs from his cheeks,
that lips aren’t easily fashioned, that his smile’s
lopsided, oafish, snaggle-toothed, that each
new operation costs a billion tears,
when tears are out of fashion. O, beseech
some poet with more skill with words than tears
to find some happy ending, to believe
that God is Just, that Love is Just, that these
are Parables we live, Life’s Mysteries ...
Or look inside his courage, as he ties
his shoelaces one-handed, as he throws
no-hitters on the first-place team, and goes
on dates, looks in the mirror undeceived
and smiling says, "It’s me I see. Just me."
He smiles, if life is Just, or lacking cures.
Your pity is the worst cut he endures.
Laughter from Another Room
by Michael R. Burch
Laughter from another room
mocks the anguish that I feel;
as I sit alone and brood,
only you and I are real.
Only you and I are real.
Only you and I exist.
Only burns that blister heal.
Only dreams denied persist.
Only dreams denied persist.
Only hope that lingers dies.
Only love that lessens lives.
Only lovers ever cry.
Only lovers ever cry.
Only sinners ever pray.
Only saints are crucified.
The crucified are always saints.
The crucified are always saints.
The maddest men control the world.
The dumb man knows what he would say;
the poet never finds the words.
The poet never finds the words.
The minstrel never hits the notes.
The minister would love to curse.
The warrior never knows his foe.
The warrior never knows his foe.
The scholar never learns the truth.
The actors never see the show.
The hangman longs to feel the noose.
The hangman longs to feel the noose.
The artist longs to feel the flame.
The proudest men are not aloof;
the guiltiest are not to blame.
The guiltiest are not to blame.
The merriest are prone to brood.
If we go outside, it rains.
If we stay inside, it floods.
If we stay inside, it floods.
If we dare to love, we fear.
Blind men never see the sun;
other men observe through tears.
Other men observe through tears
the passage of these days of doom;
now I listen and I hear
laughter from another room.
Laughter from another room
mocks the anguish that I feel.
As I sit alone and brood,
only you and I are real.
Leaf Fall
by Michael R. Burch
Whatever winds encountered soon resolved
to swirling fragments, till chaotic heaps
of leaves lay pulsing by the backyard wall.
In lieu of rakes, our fingers sorted each
dry leaf into its place and built a high,
soft bastion against earth's gravitron?
a patchwork quilt, a trampoline, a bright
impediment to fling ourselves upon.
And nothing in our laughter as we fell
into those leaves was like the autumn's cry
of also falling. Nothing meant to die
could be so bright as we, so colorful?
clad in our plaids, oblivious to pain
we'd feel today, should we leaf-fall again.
Autumn Conundrum
by Michael R. Burch
It's not that every leaf must finally fall,
it's just that we can never catch them all.
Keywords/Tags: Laugh, Laughs, Laughter, Giggle, Giggles, Smile, Smiles, Grace, Graces, Love, Pleasure, Life, Folly, Wisdom, Wiggles, Mystery, Mother, Father, Children, Cheer Up, Joy
Copyright © Michael Burch | Year Posted 2020
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