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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 © | Year Posted 2020




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