Art Charles Poems

framed
feelings
one, two, three
recognise me
sensuality
love emblazoned 
unmasking
trembling
seen...

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Charles Bukowski
I read a fine essay written by a friend of mine, Bukowski
I thought he was a great poet and writer, whether the high
table of...

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I bow down to the great Dickens
Whose name has touched every soil,
And whose art has touched every soul,
His  art "Hard Times" has travelled far...

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His start was art
That fell apart

  To poetry he turned
  'Normalcy' ~ spurned



____________________________________________________  
Reviews:
  "Stunning in its simplicity, Gershon."
  ...

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Charles d'Orleans: a Medieval Marvel


Spring
by Charles d’Orleans (c. 1394-1465)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Young lovers,
greeting the spring
fling themselves downhill,
making cobblestones ring
with their wild leaps and...

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How great thou art to me

I want to hear you more

I want to see you more

I want to understand you more

Hearing and listening are not...

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Strange Weather 

The camels are swimming, 
and who knew...
they knew how?
What a surprise...
to all that stood by, 
watching them cross the desert, 
like ducks on...

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A Wooden Riddle

I walk through walls, 
but I'm not dead. 
(as they are unfinished) 
I try to keep the plans, 
locked in my head. 
From...

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Rain

As I set here quiet, 
I gather my thoughts. 
I pray without the pomp...
of a beginning or an end. 
As He is always with me....

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A Hard Beginning

The cough continues. 
My head... aches, 
but there are needles in my eyes, 
that will not stop poking my lids. 
Everything hurts today,...

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Thief of Glory 
 
Faded flowers, 
dead on the table, 
no vase, no water, 
no blood, 
no sacrifice, 
of time, sweat, tears, 
years and fears....

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Used by the Muse

Here I sit, after the holidays. 
Everything is quiet, 
and waiting for the big party, 
to end the year. 

Struggling on page...

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Fading Paper Dolls

Slowly leaving things out, 
important and then, 
not so much. 

Angry people that believe 
they are slighted, 
or given less value, 
found wrong...
as...

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(not a nice poem... )

Dark is the Art

Lies. 
Evil made up, 
hiding in plain site…

Judgments made, 
of others, 
that can not see, 
the color
of their...

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Spring
by Charles d'Orleans (c.1394-1465)
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Young lovers,
greeting the spring
fling themselves downhill,
making cobblestones ring
with their wild leaps and arcs,
like ecstatic sparks
struck from coal.

What...

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