Best Waxed Poems

in the uncoloured tint of another everyday
amongst the spit polished waxed apples
tightly packed in burlap bags
they walked like minded
in their own burly wrap
oblivious to the...

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She sits and rocks, so gently back and forth
Her chin leaning heavily on her chest.
In her hands she cradles, one flat waxed rose
And sighs as...

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I was seventeen, had one year left of high school and a boyfriend I didn't even love. It was the end of summer, and I...

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Somewhere along waxed moonglow,
he is there
like a sweet aftertaste on my lips;
through warm fingers he groans
as silence closes my eyelids...
and even the pang that he...

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By the early years of that ancient decade, the 70's,
I'd tired of my obstreperous tomboyish games: 
kickball with the neighbor kids, sledding in the winter,...

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A final ugly bellow followed by the front door's slam and then. . .
the natural and sweet respite of silence. 
She remained where he'd left...

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September’s almost coming to its end. 
The shining green that clothed the trees in June
Has darkened as the shorter days impend;
Their battered leaves will presently...

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THE CANDLE

candles gulp and flicker
in a new altitude 
old caves of crazy
waxed out warning
stars 
plummeting to their
dark new address
less stressed
than before

in absence I revolve
shrouded in...

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Inspired by Victor Buhagiar’s romantic writes.

GLASS SLIPPERS

He sees their shine -
on his knees, he’d kiss
her glass slippers.

The ballroom floor -
first date jitters,
diamond waxed.

The newness of...

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Sure as spring-ebullient cedes to summer’s escapades
In vagaries of time a budding flower parches and fades
And the sweet sound of hatchlings abandons its nest
And autumn’s...

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A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN 

Her face was a constellation of perfections 
She was ravishing; beautiful beyond condemnation. 
Her voice was like many water 
Yet, it's coo...

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The flames of the furnace (well-travelled by wind
slowly glazing the rags of gray women chagrined
at the sight of a hair fleeing tresses now thinned) 
sometimes...

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Flickering in the night, a melting’s texture of regrets afterglow,
Candlelight’s waxed drippings staining the white laced table cloth,
Yet in the black and white photo album...

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Merciles Beaute ("Merciless Beauty")
by Geoffrey Chaucer
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your eyes slay me suddenly;
their beauty I cannot sustain,
they wound me so, through my heart...

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Poems from old and yellowed
Chinese scrolls make me sad,
make me sad: stored in shiny,
lacquered boxes of perfumed teak,
they crumble when unrolled.
And the hands that must...

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