Best Xxi Poems

Donald's faithful to his red star
Putin loves the Don from afar
Bizarre it may seem
It's been Vladimir's dream
To have an American Tsar...

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So bridge to bridge, of other things speaking
Of which my comedy does not take care,
We walked; and reached the top, when seeking
For watching the next slit, then we stopped there
Malebolge to see and crying vain;
And I saw it strikingly with no glare.
As the Venician dockyard...

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Unquotable quotes: Teachers – XXI

The pupil, the ***** and the walnut tree, the more the teacher beats them, the better they be.
In the old days, teachers were born to the métier like poets; today softwares do the teaching for them.
A teacher a day makes the...

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Pluma, 

A tip so delicate, so smooth, so sweet
caressing blank pages of my need

indelible, 
creating tattoos of trust 
thrust
where blood flows 

you save me 
with feathers of flight/delight
as I surrender over to you
my soul

unedited 
predestined
written
our book of love

promises yet to be made
on pages clean it's...

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IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XXI

IF you pull a long Moon face
Watching our Earth clad in sparse swirling white sarée
Her aqua-marine waters cuddling her reddish brown body-surface
The dazzlingly rare Pearl now throttled by deadly débris

If you then pull a long Other-Moon face
Rolling...

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IF ever I had a country : XXI - XXII

" I will follow that system of regimen which, according to my ability and judgment, I consider for the benefit of my patients, and abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous. I will give no deadly...

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EARLY POEMS XXI - JUVENILIA

Dance With Me
by Michael R. Burch

(circa age 18)

Dance with me
to the fiddles’ plaintive harmonies.
Enchantingly,
each highstrung string,
each yearning key,
each a thread within the threnody,
bids us, "Waltz!"
then sets us free
to wander, dancing aimlessly.

Let us kiss
beneath the stars
as we slowly meet ...
we'll part
laughing gaily...

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Testing each other's faith
At an open window—the air is still,
People seem dead with indifference, 
And yet—the world breathes heavier

Hearts thumping in rhythm
To each other,
Hands clasping so tightly,
The view at large is a future we fear

Honor is seen in companionship, 
Yet disgust is seen in those
Who...

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SONNET XXI 
GRATITUDE

For He is Good
His Mercies endures forever.

Days have turned to Weeks,
Weeks to Months and Months counting.
Redemption we yet anticipate
This Land of Misery and many Chaos
His Mercies endures forever.

Difficult, Frail and Unpredictable, we’ve journeyed
Of his Goodness and Mercies, we’ve had plenty
Though we’ve had the...

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It was such a fight I did not expect, 
she didn’t know the strength of intellect; 
Fable was bent on controlling my mind
there’s no way that was how I was designed;
 
Every dark thought with intention to pelt
I began to push like she’d never felt;...

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It was two ways to go
And two ways we went
The tears they wrung from us
Until gape the cracked faith wide
The blood we surrenderd to the dust
War is a battle between opposing sides
A contention of beliefs
A fight for wrong subjugated to right
The root of evil is...

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Ever since the hour when first we met
your dearest memory my silhouette
the face of my greatest triumph

enamored by the pleasant elation
‘twas the brush of your skin
which fostered a phenomenon
Before a generation

We conquered centuries with ease
Ever seeking to discover the genesis
‘twas love set anew...

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hope ain't a pored plague - sassy spell:
gaunt gullible on craving etched
tamed time trailing hampered boul'vard
felon fate fostering farts

hope is not a pruned parable:
smothered syllables, numbed nimble
sumptuous sway, damp denotation,
throbbing theme, fallible fusion

hope is everything but folly:
lanky laziness, marred merry
hibernated will, wanky wish
dark dribbles, cursed...

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ten feet away
from the woman with sunken,
tired eyes, sifting through her coupons

a crumpled dollar bill
is flattened against a man’s
paint splattered, sun-stained jeans.

he walks out, pockets lined with possibility,
she walks out with a stooped back.

the automatic door slides open
for the both  of them all ...

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These are my early poems, or juvenilia.

Stars
by Michael R. Burch, age 22

Though night has come,
I'm not alone,
for stars appear
—fierce, faint and far—
to dance until they disappear.

They reappear
as clouds roll by
in stormy billows
past bent willows;
sometimes they almost seem to sigh.

And time rolls on,
on past the willows,
on...

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