Long Aphorism Poems
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Epigrams II
Sex Hex
by Michael R. Burch
Love's full of cute paradoxes
(and highly acute poxes).
***
Midnight Stairclimber
by Michael R. Burch
Procreation
is at first great sweaty recreation,
then—long, long after the sex dies—
the source of endless exercise.
***
The One True Poem
by Michael R. Burch
Love was not meaningless ...
nor your embrace, nor your kiss.
And though every god proved a phantom,
still you were divine to your last dying atom ...
So that when you are gone
and, yea, not a word remains of this poem,
even so,
We were One.
***
The Poem of Poems
by Michael R. Burch
for Beth
This is my Poem of Poems, for you.
Every word ineluctably true:
I love you.
***
Here and Hereafter
by Michael R. Burch
Life’s saving graces are love, pleasure, laughter ...
wisdom, it seems, is for the Hereafter.
***
Meal Deal
by Michael R. Burch
Love is a splendid ideal
(at least till it costs us a meal).
***
Vice Grip
There’s no need to rant about Al-Qaeda and ISIS.
The cruelty of “civilization” suffices:
our ordinary vices.
***
Piecemeal
by Michael R. Burch
And so it begins—the ending.
The narrowing veins, the soft tissues rending.
Your final solution is pending.
***
The Whole of Wit
by Michael R. Burch
for Richard Moore
If brevity is the soul of wit
then brevity and levity
are the whole of it.
***
Redefinitions
Faith: falling into the same old claptrap.—Michael R. Burch
Religion: the ties that blind.—Michael R. Burch
Baseball: lots of spittin’ mixed with some hittin’.—Michael R. Burch
Trickle down economics: an especially pungent golden shower.—Michael R. Burch
Poetry: the art of finding the right word at the right time.—Michael R. Burch
Written: April 10, 2024, For Constance la France Contest
Rumi Quote: "Longing is the core of mystery. Longing itself brings the cure. The only rule is, suffer the pain. Your desires must be disciplined And what you want to happen in time, sacrificed".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As twilight slumps, shadows start to creep.
My eyelids collapse—I tumble asleep.
My soul dances amid labyrinth of despair,
Yielding hidden spots in boundless glare.
I'll behold you—poised with grace,
A vast vision void by time embrace.
Captured is midnight sky,
Aphorism of shadows—enigmas reply.
O moon of lovers, restore her stead,
Grant me this single whim instead.
She will remain in my embrace forever,
Without shedding these aloof sobs ever.
She watches patiently, in stillness,
I can sense she's poised—in nearness.
Amid endless maze, she idly awaits,
Beneath the moon of zest gates.
We'd waltz through the night,
Let our love blossom and sway.
Now, I behold a mere dream in sight,
I compel you, dear, to sail back to me today.
As the sun sets, I gently close my eyes.
I'll descry you sitting there in disguise,
Ensnared within the depths of sky.
I will utter my prayer with a gentle sigh.
Wouldn't that be ambrosial? Would you?
Tonight, fetch my beloved home.
Oh, celestial orb, lend me her view.
Time slips away with the fading gnome.
The opera isn't over until the fat lady sings,
the demotic aphorism goes
Before the curtain goes up at the opera house,
someone least expected comes out to close the show
She was no fat lady. Rather, a young soprano.
A shy young girl about the age of sixteen.
She takes center stage; unsure of herself.
Her eyes nervously scanning the audience
as a hush fell over the packed house.
All were breathless with anticipation, waiting to hear
her sing. Then she sprung a show-stopping surprise!
Mouths were agape, the applause, deafening.
A show-stealing star was instantaneously born!
It's difficult not to be moved by
the young soprano's lachrymose powerfully sung aria
The audience made their exit, astounded!
Free Verse Fever - A - Poetry Contest (Winner: 2nd Place)
Sponsored by Lu Loo
Date written: 01/19/2020
I chose: Astounded
I write poetry not to change the world,
but to change the way I feel.
Sometimes it’s just made-up fantasy,
sometimes, something a little more real.
I’m not a sophisticated poet you see,
using litotes, anapest, or alliteration.
Though I’ve been known to use an aphorism or two,
when talking about the politicians of this nation.
I pay little attention to the rhyming scheme,
and syllable count means nothing to me.
I’m not even sure what it is they really mean,
When they talk about ABAB or CCCC.
Am I a Beat, Black Mountain, or Dada,
conceptual, confessional, or poststructuralist, oh my.
Things like cacophony, euphony, cadence, and feet,
confuse me to the point that makes me want to cry.
I just put some words in my dilapidated computer,
typing it out in fourteen font Helvetica.
I’m never sure of what form of poem I write,
Wait, is this one called Ars Poetica.
Sue doesn’t sit so demurely in her motorised wheelchair.
She’ll tell folks to stop gawking as it's very rude to stare!
Beneath her tenuous frame is quite a formidable young girl,
born with brittle bones but in her wheelchair she can twirl.
Sue’s parents sadly told her that her condition is immutable.
She is bereft of strong limbs, but her courage is irrefutable.
Despite a recent interlude in hospital, she's always cheerful.
Don’t treat her like she’s invisible or you may get an earful!
She loves to sketch caricatures in her artist’s drawing book
and in her specially adapted kitchen Sue is learning to cook.
Her physical disability will not prevent her from achieving
and her aphorism of life's always been, ‘Never stop believing
Sue loves to spend time wheeling around the garden paths,
watching chirping sparrows joyfully splashing in bird baths.
She paints canvases filled with butterflies and lovely flowers.
Sometimes she is quite content to sit there and read for hours.
If you are feeling sorry for Sue, don't give it another thought.
In her scarlet wheelchair, she's accepted what life has wrought.
Each day she finds something to appreciate that gives her a thrill.
In truth, she sees more beauty in life than most of us ever will.
Eight word Challenge 5 Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
Required words: demurely, sketch, tenuous, brittle, formidable, interlude, bereft, immutable
10-23-17
An empty room
Standing center stage
She waited for her cue
bassoon in hand
She breathed life into
"MI Stro" a ballad by
Piffston Grisser"
A song which curated
More than four minutes
She incorporated
" it's gotta be"
by Danny Dewmore
A very popular song
To the delight of those
In attendance and to those
Who were to view the film
The staff stood and applauded
She bowed and smiled
And then letter the stage.
I heard one saying "she wowed us"
Her male factor spoke whisper to
Her "I should be nervous to lose you
to someone who is as talented as you"
He kissed her. We found it to be romantic.
The reliance of performance allows us
To speak of you as "the deal sealer"
You have mourned in triumph to get the part!
We spoke this moment as her "monomythwhere
The bassoonist has arrived at stardom!
They were to meet in middle of the mall
He clearly misunderstood... his downfall
If there had been some writing on the wall
This fight might not have happened at all
Unsure of what to wear or where to look
It's important to give more than he took
He seemed caught like a fish on a hook
His life story could be a comic book
He remembered everything that he could
Wanting to make amends for this, he would
Deep in his heart of hearts he knew he should
Would giving her the moon do any good?
Not his best day, if you know what I mean
Not a first mistake or last to be seen
Clearly, he committed to coming clean
He secretly wished to be somewhere serene
August 22, 2018
Litany of Poetic Devices
By Line Gauthier
1. Consonance;
2. Oxymoron;
3. Truism;
4. Internal Rhyme;
5. Homophones;
6. Idiom;
7. Simile;
8. Metaphor;
9. Tautology;
10. Hyperbaton;
11. Metonymy;
12. Rhetoric Question;
13. Innuendo;
14. Aphorism;
15. Alliteration;
16. Euphony
Spontaneity leaves behind the ego,
effectively being a state of no mind,
wherein with no urge to either come or go,
cravings related to form are left behind.
Awareness self-aware, in staid stillness slow,
thus escapes clutches of narrow fears that bind.
Zen is not negation but celebration,
invoking God’s grace for our life’s duration.
The concept of emptiness in any ism,
is oft mistaken as a passive approach,
we deem nihilistic as an aphorism
but in truth this practice is above reproach.
Once empty, God’s light ignites our body prism
leaving within no room for thoughts to encroach.
Our doubts recede, when we become the answer,
frolicking with joy, like a cosmic dancer.
“The more you know, the more you know you don't know.”
Said quote attributed to Aristotle,
stands the test of time,
and not only did out last
many another aphorism,
but most any learned person,
would agree proverb cast
greater relevancy today,
whereby bajillion minutiae doth blast
and bombard relentlessly tenured
academician, or lay person till aghast
now (i.e. the 21st
century in general), with fast
and furious incessant information explosion,
more so than 384–322 BC,
yet his nestled (chocolated),
pronounced, revered, vast
paradigm touted as ever last
ting influence still
vibrant approximately hast
encompassed two and
a half millenniums past.
Hash tagged the
"Father of Western Philosophy" -
imagine us slew
of avid admirers
lurching back and forth
(in conjunction with the
pitched cadenced lilt of Plato),
say...by a playa in Kalamazoo
Michigan feted for, he warrants a kazoo
blown, who embraced forward doo
wop thinking spanned a gamut,
where more'n few
adherents or immediate disciplines
refining (and redefining),
which amassed breathless
comprehension aligned hitherto
an expanse of disparate subjects
sewn (no needling,
asper this feeble pun)
to constitute an interrelated web,
whereat convenience allotted
quasi distinct abstract queue
(preceding his sue bare rue
legacy) consigned his
innate person to integrate
(by syllogisms he drew)
correcting antiquated inaccuracies,
and aligned a groovy,
wheel lee, and well tread
modernist twist (and shout),
sans permeating Air Supply
Bestie Boys, Beatlemania,
Cold Play ying
musically noteworthy, loo
pea pod casts, and even spurring
… where ignorance is bliss, / ‘Tis folly to be wise.
Informed about the choices—
the mainstay o’ adulthood—
we often smother voices;
in good stead they have stood.
Grapple with, analyse
a destination grim:
a web of intrigue; lies
which we quote verbatim.
Some opportunities
present itself to us
with practicalities.
We often wish to cuss,
but many chances missed
in pursuit of prize.
Where ignorance is bliss,
‘tis folly to be wise.
The quote is from the final stanza of Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College, by Thomas Gray (1716–71).
This is an example of gnomic poetry.