Best Brocaded Poems

*           *
        *           *  *           *
* ...

Continue reading...

A spider carefully plans and schemes
the pattern for its life and quest.
It spends its hours weaving dreams
until it creates its sticky best.

Its web is tatted small and refined
or brocaded in heavy tapestry.
Soon prey finds itself entwined,
entombed within this basketry.

The spider calmly enswathes it,
a gesture quick...

Continue reading...

The genie in the bottle  beside Alladin's lamp
awaiting the cue to perform her dance
Aromatic spices fill the air..authentic meals to be my fare.
Tagines of fowl and lamb....fish and yams 
 Bastille chicken flavored with cinamon,  raisins and date palm.
Finely ground walnuts,pecans and such
give...

Continue reading...

I see before me in all array
collections of a bygone day
classic chairs and dated books
clothing and a complete attire
of chairs where I have never sat
and books that I have never read
the clothing that I never wore

Trappings if you will, to seal the span of time
that...

Continue reading...

LOVE POEMS II

These are love poems by Michael R. Burch: original poems and translations about passion, desire, lust, sex, dating and marriage. On an amusing note, my steamy Baudelaire translations have become popular with the pros ? **** stars and escort services!



Le Balcon (The Balcony)
by...

Continue reading...

Chinese Poets: English Translations II

These are modern English translations of poems by the Chinese poets Tzu Yeh, Lin Huiyin, Xu Zhimo and Huang E. These are poems about love, passion and beauty. 


Tzu Yeh (circa 400 BC)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I heard my love...

Continue reading...

Pasha Acremodios grew greedy,
discontented with the domain he dominated,
so he turned covetous eyes toward Farabia,
sending his soldiers to seize this ripened plum

Spoiling for a fight and fighting for spoils,
his army swept across Farabia
like a bloody broom,
brushing it clean of plunder,
bringing back abundant booty–
orichalcum and gnometal,
moonweed...

Continue reading...

MODERN SONNETS I

I prefer the original definition of the sonnet as a “little song” of indeterminate form and length. These modern sonnets vary from more-or-less traditional to free verse.


Maker, Fakir, Curer
by Michael R. Burch

A poem should be a wild, unearthly cry
against the thought of lying...

Continue reading...

Love has a Southern flavor: honeydew,
ripe cantaloupe, the honeysuckle’s spout
we tilt to basking faces to breathe out
the ordinary, and inhale perfume ...

Love’s Dixieland-rambunctious: tangled vines,
wild clematis, the gold-brocaded leaves
that will not keep their order in the trees,
unmentionables that peek from dancing lines ...

Love cannot be...

Continue reading...

All the riches of the Kingdom are mine

               The embroidered cloths,

               The silver chalice,

   ...

Continue reading...

Beware of politicians whose active manifesto
Is always to speak ill of other candidates and opposition parties.
They are the real problems!

Beware of political goons and rumour-mongers, spinning allegations 
Twining civil questions, yakking all day but never about 
What they have done or can do. They have...

Continue reading...

Although I've never kept fanciful fountain pens close at hand,
I have found no need for flamboyant quills to dip into a well,
for poetic lines never heed my beck and call or my command.
Sometimes I'm a barren poet, thirsting for words in a dry spell.

I have...

Continue reading...

Cousin Donald Comes to Town ...

Elroy was all cock-a-hoop cos
cousin Donald was a-comin'
a visiting & they were so darn
chuffed & tremblin' in anticipation
that friday night the seven of them
in the one bed had a real problem
actually sleeping.

Ma got out the best crockery
& had it laid...

Continue reading...

That evening
we took a flat-bottomed boat
and swam it up the Thames.
Douglas the middle-aged *****
served martinis out of a crystal pitcher.
Lurching for lips, he kissed me.
I was surprised how sweet it felt.
Jenny in a canvas chair, pale legs crossed,
water-trailing sensitive fingers.
I prized the seahorse lilt of...

Continue reading...

My goodness, 
I’ve been handled by the best of people
And the worst of people,
the purity of my crisp white borders
has been eroded by the sweat of wily men. 
The hem of my petticoats 
marking the border of my self
has been besmirched, blackened
My angular, prismatic, diamond...

Continue reading...