bluebird on a branch
sets cherry blossoms awhirl
spring perfume
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
When you try to solve your problems
with the swing of an angry fist
that cannot be unswung
nor the damage caused undone
regret will sidle up
hollow out your belly
and set your mind awhirl
conveying very clearly
that what you should have done
was take a breath or two
go back a bit in time
to when that fist
would not have swung
to when Boots
raised from just a puppy
relied on your protection
and came to you for comfort
unclench that angry fist
and remember how it felt
when Boots was in your lap
and you used that unclenched fist
to gently stroke his warmth
as he lazily stretched and yawned.
happy day
squirrel ballet
tutus a twirl
laced slippers awhirl
recital galore
never a bore
fluffy tails spinning
prima donnas are winning
happy day happy day
loving this squirrel ballet
Brain splitting in two
The mind in constant fission
To sever the fruit
Consciousness fading
The mind is put asunder
A crack is shaping
Internal conflict
My mind afflicted and awhirl
Oh the need to rest
Confining the eyes
Drift away on silent wings
A better day nears
off the wall dancing
electric blue shoes awhirl
one-armed pushup
11/5/2020
Jammed some fun into one day
Aboard kayaks, paddling play
Mangroves, stingless jelly fish
And in my head, a hand itched
In beats, a beach reggae-tunes
Crashing waves upon the dunes
As curling smiles seemed to mock
Monster cruiser at the dock
Yellow sun did set too fast
Dashing night on anchor cast
Awhirl the sea’s brooding deep
Yesterdays pile on the keep
(9/12/2020: '04 Carver 420 Mariner; DMS)
Fountainhead
by Michael R. Burch
I did not delight in love so much
as in a kiss like linnets' wings,
the flutterings of a pulse so soft
the heart remembers, as it sings:
to bathe there was its transport, brushed
by marble lips, or porcelain,—
one liquid kiss, one cool outburst
from pale rosettes. What did it mean ...
to float awhirl on minute tides
within the compass of your eyes,
to feel your alabaster bust
grow cold within? Ecstatic sighs
seem hisses now; your eyes, serene,
reflect the sun's pale tourmaline.
Published by Romantics Quarterly, Poetica Victorian, PW Review, Nutty Stories (South Africa), Inspirational Stories, Poetry Life & Times
Don't. Can't. Won't. Listen. Listen.
My mind is awhirl. Too much of that stuff.
Life is redundant. My friends are boring.
My parents are fussy. Absolutists.
No room for me. I try to get in my truth.
Screaming it out in looks
For I am not allowed to speak
Unless spoken to. Right?
My mind is awhirl. Wanting to break out.
Of this prison where I was put right away.
Little ladies don't get dirty.
Don't speak until spoken to.
My friends jabber about the same stuff.
Every day. A rewind conversation.
I am screaming with my eyes
And my body language.
No one cares.
As long as I
don't show
my crazy.
No one ever had a more devoted super patron.
He marveled at every painting and poem I thought up.
He cheered at each of my gaudy crazy color choices,
He toasted all my thoughts with a golden glass tribute cup.
He wanted to buy all, the first time I had a white arts and crafts carnival tent.
I was against this of course, wanting a chance to sell to others, to share my soul.
This life is not yours, he said, you are more sensitive, artistic, heaven-sent.
But I wanted to sell to excited children, and their mothers, that was my goal.
My marvelous patron talked me into selling online, and that worked out for a bit.
I was gleeful and happy and awhirl with joy with each sale, so tried and true.
But when I went to visit him, and saw each painting in his home, I threw a hissy fit.
I wanted to sell to others, I said, I didn’t want all of them to be sold to you.
Now when I sell a painting or a poem, I run home all aquiver, excitedly glad.
Sales always chase away any insane feelings of disappointment or unexpected gloom.
I have a patron who believes in me, a man who is honest, and never a cad.
Best of all, to deliver it, all I have to do is walk to my own living room.
The Bulldog Has Become A Mom
A blink ago she was our babe in arms;
Then turn around; and there the smiling girl -
Around again - the strong young woman,
Then wed; another shares her charms.
Now she strides through life, our perfect pearl,
Embracing all the ways of being human.
Now she graces the gifts of motherhood
With all its joys and false alarms,
Bearing well it all, her world awhirl
Its challenges well understood
As all about, a little Chaos swarms.
Boris and Natasha's minds were awhirl
As the Russia probe facts did unfurl.
Let's end the confusion
There was no collusion
Was fake news of moose and of squirrel.
With rustle and twirl,
The wind
Sets the leaves awhirl
They spin
Like colored dancers
And then
With a whispered sigh,
The wind
Drops them from on high.
It vanishes through
the trees,
Free and careless as
It please;
Comes back a whisper
To tease,
Through a snowy veil,
The leaves
Into one last dance.
revelation of revelations!
an ordinary morning til..
discovery of discoveries
brittle chrysalis
upside down, branching
breathing, pulsing
I pause and
inspect the
pupa’s fortress
tight and hard as
childhood memories of
milkweed pods
splaying, splitting, dropping
fragments into the
pungent soil beneath
My birth sac
splits apart
Baptismal waters
run down my legs
he’s going to be a
football player the
doctor predicts.
one last push
spills my babe
onto linen’s
glaring whiteness.
oops, he’s a she
and so beautiful.
A parallel universe
repeats, reflects, completes
an ever changing
life cycle
sunshine dries
black and orange panes
tiny filaments of gossamer
wings shimmer silky white
against the opaque sun
Dad’s car delivers
mom and babe home
their newborn squalls.
her tiny fingers
curl in a tight fist.
each digit is a
prayer bead
chanting its presence.
I gaze in amazement
my mind awhirl
wings and elbows,
antennae and toes
displace space now that
seconds before was
unknown. unclaimed.
I should'a read the fine print
when into the hairdresser's I did go
no guarantee that the shade or tint
won't end up indigo
I looked like a parrot
all they said was with a laugh
better than looking like a carrot
asked if I wanted to buy a scarf
I should'a read the fine print
after I hit her with my shoe
when they called the police
asking what caused the to-do
said I wasn't supposed to look like parrot
a golden blonde was what I wanted
you should'a read the fine print
is what the policeman quoted.
I am sitting in a cell my mind is awhirl
I look like a blue parrot in a cage
first person who says what a pretty girl
will be the victim of my rage.
Penned 12/4/2016
LOVE LAMENT
Robert Welch
2015
She came into my life one day,
A ray of golden sun.
Coal black hair and sparkling eyes,
I knew she was the one.
I wanted her to be my own,
To be my steady girl.
Her pretty smile, a gentle laugh,
She set my heart awhirl.
We shared our days of fun and joy;
I loved to be with her.
We dreamed of days still yet to come
And walk thru life together.
But time has ways of changing things,
And knowing we can’t see.
Each will take a separate path
For ours was not to be.
Now we live our lives apart,
With someone else to love.
But in our hearts we both do know
Each other we dream of.
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