Best Rarified Poems

The Moon as a Metaphor for Your Mouth
by Michael R. Burch

When I was closest to love, it did not seem
real at all, but a thing of such tenuous sweetness
it might dissolve in my mouth
like a lozenge of sugar.

When I held you in my arms, I...

Continue reading...

How firmly they stand,
the spires of history
that no one can destroy.
What a curious melange
of hate and love
and yesterday's antipathy.
Indifferent they are,
leaving us their basic legacy-- 
shining, mocking; it is their heritage,
and the winds of change have no effect
upon a single word.

Within their shadow is enshrined,
the...

Continue reading...

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a summer's day displace my reveries.

I wake, and through my...

Continue reading...

Sometimes, I roam a lush green forest...
                 in my mind; birds sing a chorus

               Being...

Continue reading...

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a summer's day displace my reveries.

I wake, and through my...

Continue reading...

Experience your most opulent dream.
Taste solitude as one sampling rare and
ancient wine from fluted crystal goblets.
Be exhilarated in reaching toward the heavens
in 'primal scream' ecstasy
after climbing a hazardous rock massif,
and there inhaling rarified air
no other human being ever breathed.
Possess courage to explore
deep caverns and nether-world...

Continue reading...

A week in Spain, the Pyranees, a picturesque drive
from Barcelona, where I had not thought to become the owner
of sanity once more, there, where the command of a
mountain is to Look Up, leave the roiling band of unrest
over airways, TV screens, the front page unquiet
conversation...

Continue reading...

Some dude from
     vinyl city revs engine
     of his dirt bike to the max
     blasting the air
testosterone roars throughout
     his every bone and fiber
     broadcasting...

Continue reading...

Eminent Doctors and professors
Did meet, at a prominent place
For their prominent feats

After much preamble; they sat down
Face to face; their table was long, a
Shiny space.

Their gizmos and gadgets the very best
They spoke on many topics from health
To outer space; even vests.

Rarified though not verified; their...

Continue reading...

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...

Continue reading...

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...

Continue reading...

Surfeit of stalagmites barring, hampering my way
Clouds descending from heavenly heights
Obscuring my outlook in the rarified air
Mount Certes challenged all my senses
Aching muscles, pounding heart, gasping intakes of breath
But for all that I felt elated, ecstatically elated
My soul craved for such a challenge an achievement...

Continue reading...

You say you’ve always tried 
to reach out to me,
even to the outer limits of your patience — 
That lofty trust atmosphere

But, just how far
did you try to reach within
the deep, shadow spaces of your heart
And grab a shovel hold 
of the buried fears darkly...

Continue reading...

I received a visit
from a beautiful narcissist
She could not see
For she was blinded
By the perceived 
The magnificence she thought I would see
The person she wanted to be
In those few moments
Standing there with effervescent smile
She imagined what must be going through my mind
How I was so...

Continue reading...

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a summer's day displace my reveries.

I wake, and through my...

Continue reading...