Best Wanly Poems

Note: Norwegians are proud of many things, but above all, they are endlessly proud of Sissel Kyrkjebø, the Voice of Norway!  International singer.
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I live in a deserted chapel, 
Buffeted and corroded by harsh winds,
And yet to me it is a godsend haven
Away from hazards...

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When the morning light,squeaks through the vanes;
of wooden casements and windowpanes.

When eyes glued shut,from night time fears,
are opened wanly to mornings clear.

That’s when in the corners of my mind,
thoughts of you rush forth to find;

Soft smiles, open arms and a warm heart,
You know I’ve loved...

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Stardust smiling and bright beguiling
Rainclouds rebelling and sprinklings surprising
Misty mountains and full fountains
Darkening dreams and sentimental streams
Moonlight mourns and wanly warns
Faded feelings and dreadful dealings
November nights waltz into Winter





Alliterisen - 7 Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
October 30, 2021
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A Controlled Reply to a Skinhead's Brain

Just when I thought some real evolution
Of moral thinking
Just might be taking place these days,
I run across this Neo-Nazi piece of crap
Masquerading as a poem,
Shrieking wanly in an open, small-press 'zine.

This fool blames the ills of the world
On "World...

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Ah, my birth month’s time is nigh.
September’s blue asters soon will bloom,
their scent lingering in the sighs
of melancholy breezes,
and still I will hear the whispering
of ephemeral late summer 
as she smiles wanly 
through clouds in azure skies.

I will watch sweet summer
wander off into 
vibrant violet...

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ignoble head low
dark eyes glance up wanly 
feathers softly fall...

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Throughout the night distressed, unblessed by sleep, 
I turn and writhe and toss, and vainly watch
The seconds and the minutes slowly stretch
To hours; and long since done with counting sheep,
Despair of morning.  All alone I pitch
And sweat and wanly see the clock-hands sweep
Inexorably on....

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The Tender Weight of Her Sighs
by Michael R. Burch

The tender weight of her sighs
lies heavily upon my heart;
apart from her, full of doubt,
without her presence to revolve around,
found wanting direction or course,
cursed with the thought of her grief,
believing true love is a myth,
with hope as...

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The half moon shimmered wanly as she wrote
“Dearest, do you realize how much I miss you?
How long will your trip abroad take?
Here I am in empty rich, luxury mansion.
A hovel with you would have been better.
Or perhaps you do not love me anymore?”

Thus the letter...

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the Father visits his son in the dark of day
The son is abed, pale in the light of night
For the sun and moon are witness in this hour of twilight
But the sun is not heat and does not shine as bright
And the moon is not...

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Turkish Poetry Translations I



Ben Sana Mecburum: "You are indispensable"
by Attila Ilhan
translation by Nurgul Yayman and Michael R. Burch

You are indispensable; how can you not know
that you're like nails riveting my brain? 
I see your eyes as ever-expanding dimensions.
You are indispensable; how can you not know
that...

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“Women Have Loved Before As I Love Now”
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Women have loved before as I love now;
At least, in lively chronicles of the past-
Of Irish waters by a Cornish prow
Or Trojan waters by a Spartan mast
Much to their cost invaded-here and there,
Hunting the...

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...a true story


Her house was just a shell, a burnt-out ruin...

standing apart, the other houses still intact 
with painted jalousies and window curtains. 
She must have fallen asleep, the cigarette 
still dangling from her arthritic fingers;
I never saw her without one. 

She told me of...

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Next to the road’s trough
The cosmos flowers bow
Down and curtsy
As if to royalty
As we pass by
Waving wanly as they die

The road is wrapped in misty shrouds
Trees hugged by earthbound clouds
Cosmos petals dripping tears
End of season, end of years

Before frost falls all glory lost
Browning leaves in...

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...a true story


Her house was just a shell, a burnt-out ruin...

standing apart, the other houses still intact 
with painted jalousies and window curtains. 
She must have fallen asleep, the cigarette 
still dangling from her arthritic fingers;
I never saw her without one. 

She told me of...

Continue reading...