Long Achingly Poems

Headlights messaged through midnight windows 
Curtainless glass unable to subdue the urgency 
Car obtained in street nearby was theirs temporarily
Three hour drive to ship leaving island next morning

Two sixteen year old girls barely registered surprise...

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please tell me ...

what happened?
what dire damage have i wrought?
what did i do to ruin it, that friendship, rare?
you once knew me better than most ...

my darkness didn't frighten you, didn't rattle,
you sighted those demons...

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"Listen to the wind, it talks. Listen to the silence, it speaks. Listen to your heart, it knows." - Native American Proverb

             ...

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I am home ...

oh, my heart
      pray, hush its cadence
         for the sacred sake of unsated thirst
   beg its thrums...

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He stood upon a mountain, attending to her heart,
          For surely such a hallowed sound would be
         ...

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Love could be pure beauty... Love could be a temporary high with an awful hangover...I can't deny that I loved you to the extreme - that changed so suddenly 
Opting out on love affairs, I...

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I'm reading this book called
"Systems Thinking for Social Change"
by David Stroh.

Although this is not his paradigm of systemic choice,
He talks about WinWin strategizing
for optimal outcomes
Rather than WinLose compromises
for suboptimal conservation
of the miserably under-performing status quo.

Future:
A....

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Achingly, I watch as you frequently fall
For the idyllic notion of unconditional love
The dream, the desire, the fantasy
Drawn, inexplicably, to the potent flame
Of one who ignites the spark
You learn from her, confide in her
Losing yourself
As...

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The problem is her lips.
They don't form smiles any more than waves decide of their own accord 
to lift themselves up off of the ocean's surface.
And if lips are meant to be drowsy shutters
then hers...

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cold rain
to slow-streak the
glass I watch you through -
you and your
christ ...
the ginger bread man,
sugar daddy savior, all that
I was not, (and less) ...
choices of
compromise, to provide
the lifeblood of your
"needs" ...

you, admiring
your bullion reflection in...

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Daddy: I tried to throw aside childish ways. But to no avail.  I was already in jail the day you 
came into this world.  When I first saw the tiny little girl. ...

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I try to ignore the squirming Hyde within 
And, with effort still,
I raise myself for the last traces 
of sunshine and fun.
What was left of the day, I savor for me. 
As the withering leaves of silence
have perfected...

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Ocean girdled nation had prospect for absolute containment
Overseas observers, in distant comfort, complacent 
Wuhan origin arrivals sparked a catastrophic failure
Leaving lock down 25th January, flying into Australia 
Similar instances followed, action came agonisingly belated

Contamination suppression...

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the daughter of a miller abducted, exiled, held 
locked as prisoner didst bawl
achingly, effusively, indubitably murmured plaintively 
quite riotously didst call
out for help, when stalked with facing john deere reaper 
with nary a blues clue...

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A Renga for Poetry Soup:


Meander

Time and the river
Endless silver morning
Autumn leaves float by

Shimmering streaming mountains
Pines swaying in constant winds

Morning mirror
Another gray hair
Ah! the wind of time

Spring's last daffodil
Plucked for a dinner paty

Diamond blue fragments
Reflecting off...

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When I met the tall and amiable Vietnam War veteran,
my shyness showed,
yet, my throat dried and tightened when he softly
spoke the words, "The war never goes away."
All these humanity destroying wars never cease,
soldier's names, faces,...

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When the 
glacial sun slips 
in softened womb 
of the scarlet 
spheres at dusk, 
yearning for 
hibernal rebirth 
as a lustrous 
morning star, 
it radiates 
golden beams 
like lakes of sunshine,
flowing over 
chiming starlit bells...

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This is a collaboration I had been working on with a friend a while back. We might change the title. Her name is Rebecca Larkin. She started the poem with the first line and from...

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The Throw-Away Child

Heaven above shine down on us
We need your light to guide
Our days as we make our way
Through times of testing, times of trial
In hours of need, years of pain
As we witness the Throw-Away...

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The Celtic Cross at Île Grosse
by Michael R. Burch

“I actually visited the island and walked across those mass graves [of 30,000 Irish men, women and children], and I played a little tune on me whistle....

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War is hell, it's a fact not lost on those 
                     Suited and booted to...

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Dressed in white clouds, 
And the night in satin, 
She runs warm fingers through my hair, 
And we travel along as if no one is there. 

The music pours down from heaven 
I am a...

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Pain is a solitary shaft of sunlight
piercing the fathomless depths of a wishing well,
reflected off the tin-can shards in dark prismatic waters,
refracted spears of realisation and the blinding truth they tell.
Looking backwards with somnambulistic vision
I...

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this spine tingling reaction that flushed testosterone from heads to toe
sketched out sometime from ~july or august 2012
and triggered a chain reaction
of wishful desires in overdrive seeing this aesthetically pleasing gal
in the summer of her...

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on change

in that quiet place, faint
amongst the soft chatter,
the drizzle of little things hanging,
or the operations of daily dispute;
i’ve dipped down into the trough of self,
indulged in uninterrupted reverie,
as hallucinogen and spirit slow dance, 
or...

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