Best In Fine Fettle Poems

Fate someday will determine when our days are concluded,
And those who think otherwise are sadly deluded!
Plans were made to ease my crossing with little compunction,
When I shed these earthly shackles and cease to function!

Since I like things in proper trim, regular and complete,
Plans were made...

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in quietness divine
   the xanthous zephyr balm
      a citrusy ascent
         to sip on Summer’s tea
            a lovely day is...

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More things can happen or could have happened,
From a cold metal,
Sharpened in fine fettle,
Making skin nettled,
Damaging the mettles,
To keep minds unsettled,
Provoking to ask, if this is or if this was real or mental?

Blade on arms,
Skin might be harmed;
Skin was gashed,
Blade grinding and gnashed,
Red colors coming...

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Poems about Poems (II)

Kin
by Michael R. Burch

for Richard Moore

1.
Shrill gulls,
how like my thoughts
you, struggling, rise
to distant bliss?
the weightless blue of skies
that are not blue
in any atmosphere,
but closest here...

2.
You seek an air
so clear,
so rarified
the effort leaves you famished;
earthly tides
soon call you back?
one long, descending glide...

3.
Disgruntledly you...

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State of the Art (II)

These are my "ars poetica" poems about the art and craft of writing poetry. 



What the Poet Sees
by Michael R. Burch

What the poet sees,
he sees as a swimmer 
~~~~underwater~~~~
watching the shoreline blur
sees through his breath’s weightless bubbles ...
Both worlds grow obscure.



In...

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The shock that I felt was enormous,
as the tab on the cat food I pulled,
a fountain of biscuits shot out of the top-
the box, it was actually full !
I stood, disbelieving, bewildered,
this never had happened before,
I finally came to my senses again
and swept all the...

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Poems about Poets I


The Wonder Boys
by Michael R. Burch

for Leslie Mellichamp

The stars were always there, too-bright cliches:
scintillant truths the jaded world outgrew
as baffled poets winged keyed kites—amazed,
in dream of shocks that suddenly came true ...

but came almost as static—background noise,
a song out of the cosmos...

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Sonnets XXXIII-XLI

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...

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Upon the spirits of love, and bliss
The powers of peace, and harmony
The soil I plant my feet within,
And the Goddess; I do humbly serve thee…
Grant me now this fine fettle wish,
To cleanse me of all impurities
To fill my heart, my body, my spirit
With the grain...

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[Inspired - with much gratitude - by Jan’s poem
There’s No Knocking On Heaven’s Loo Door
and Caren and Tom’s comments on it]

                 ***

The toilets in heaven are cold on your...

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The sword, 
buried deep in its' scabbard, 
tempered by fire, 
strength it holds, 
I desire 

Metal fashioned by human hands, 
skill from distant lands. 
Beauty of proportion and line, 
weapon so fine 

For the sword in its' scabbard, 
is like the truth hidden, 
brought out...

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I am a little archangel,
please let me in your garden dwell,
when there,I will spread out so well;
Later,you won't let me settle
but I'll keep you in fine fettle,
I'm the dreaded yellow-nettle.


or Lamium galeobdolon...

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Abide
by Michael R. Burch

after Philip Larkin's "Aubade"

It is hard to understand or accept mortality—
such an alien concept: not to be.
Perhaps unsettling enough to spawn religion,
or to scare mutant fish out of a primordial sea

boiling like goopy green tea in a kettle.
Perhaps a man should exhibit...

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The sword, 
buried deep in its' scabbard, 
tempered by fire, 
strength it holds, 
I desire 

Metal fashioned by human hands, 
skill from distant lands. 
Beauty of proportion and line, 
weapon so fine 

For the sword in its' scabbard, 
is like the truth hidden, 
brought out...

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Soft skin like a petal, long after butterflies settle,
a shoulder against my lip,
in such fine fettle, and testing my mettle,
my palm naturally finding your hip.

My breath in your hair, as my loving stare,
takes in the beauty you are,
if this love is rare, I'm a millionaire,
with...

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