Best Orts Poems

A descension of value bows night scenes,
the purple canopy edges its hoist,
spirits cool Platte River to lose its sheen,
Nebraskans wake to clarion fields voiced.
A loyal guest calls, it's the Sandhill Cranes,
dancing lessons, fields fattening corn orts,
pecking and choosing established campaigns.
Last state, go afoul, -- a...

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Crumpled Thoughts 

They wait – in hues of vibrating silence -
Like leftover orts of rumpled paper wimples 
On creased clandestine journal pages –
Bent scraps of wrinkled inspiration
Smudged moments held in their one moment of time
Musings fading to illegible
Lost chords in treasured memories of radiance, 
Sunspots...

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Written: August 09, 2023,                     Why Are We Here Poetry Contest
               ...

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Blessed art thou that believes, kneel before Thee
  Morn and night our eynes unfolded on Thee
Lest we stagger or plop by the wile trap
  To Thee we knock, drop the badger unwrapped

Creeds from thou embark, twitches of deeds shift
  Habitus from wails...

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I WISH I WEREN’T AN ANT
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS



I wish I weren’t an ant, my survival rate is scant
Done in by a pesticide, or a shoe, as I gallivant
A solitary figure, when I roam, I am seldom seen
In Africa, in motion, we’re a devastating machine

But that’s...

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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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When the unforeseen mistrel swipes the land,

tiny warriors trudge against the force.

“Back down! Retreat!”, the general commands.

The musketeers recoil back on course.


Then the torrent readily disembarks,

the entire army rolls up horse and foot.

A few lucky ones hop on Noah’s ark,

their chiseled armors soaked with sludge...

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Poems about Flight, Flying, and Birds



Flying
by Michael R. Burch

I shall rise
and try the bloody wings of thought
ten thousand times
before I fly...

and then I'll sleep
and waste ten thousand nights
before I dream;

but when at last...
I soar the distant heights of undreamt skies
where never hawks nor eagles dared...

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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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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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How many Mary Celestes sail
On the uncharted oceans of your mind?
How many lost souls vainly flail
To clamber on board, how many left behind?
 
So many unvisited ports
Beckon, tantalize and tease.
Does one survive on life’s orts
And accept “Destiny” with peace?
 
Which Ghost Ship's your succor, you...

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Memories hunker behind
a door marked “Blessed Oblivion”.
The key is under the mat.
To choose one, open and peek 
inside would be
a foolish flagellation.

Secrets simmer in cannibal pots,
lids held down by tenuous fingers.
Some truths deserve to be buried.
Some memories must be held
as closed as a spinster’s knees.

Doors...

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Inside an old library of things uncountable
clippings, extracts, jottings, and snippets.

‘things’ 
nothing can be
excluded

yes the air is musty, thickly clothed,
muffled and club fingered, 
incidentals are listed 
on the cuff of the half-remembered. 

Mind dust wafts from one place to another.
Orts of loss, tittle, and trifles....

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SURVEILLIOCENTRICHOSPIDROME


Sanctuary of my deepest thoughts
(Fill me with you r everence sustain)

My Inner Sanctum for peace of mind
(Where the heart meets with my soul and brain)

Ninth circle of dwell ing in placement
(Make sense of existence in its wake)

Chemical reaction of sense s
(Sacred Space that travels through...

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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 grope...

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