Long Ars poetica Poems

State of the Art (IV)

These are my "ars poetica" poems about the art and craft of writing poetry. 



Hearthside
by Michael R. Burch

“When you are old and grey and full of sleep...”  — W. ...

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State of the Art (III)

These are my "ars poetica" poems: the ones about the art and craft of writing poetry in a modern world that doesn't always recognize the artists or their work. 



Come Down
by...

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Juvenilia: Early Poems V

Poetry
by Michael R. Burch

Poetry, I found you
where at last they chained and bound you;
with devices all around you
to torture and confound you,
I found you—shivering, bare.

They had shorn your raven hair
and taken both...

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The Making of a Poet
by Michael R. Burch

While I don’t consider “Poetry” to be my best poem—I wrote the first version in my teens—it’s a poem that holds special meaning for me; I call it...

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State of the Art (II)

These are my "ars poetica" poems about the art and craft of writing poetry. 



What the Poet Sees
by Michael R. Burch

What the poet sees,
he sees as a swimmer 
~~~~underwater~~~~
watching the shoreline...

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Quotes:  -- "  deus ex machina "

""Aristotle praised Euripides, however, for generally ending his plays with bad fortune, which he viewed as correct in tragedy, and somewhat excused the intervention of a deity...

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Theatrum Mundi

Theatrum Mundi, derived from the Latin as: “Theater of the World,” was famously incorporated by William Shakespeare for his well-known metaphorical world-view often referred to under the rubric of “All the World’s a Stage,”...

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beMUSEd
by Michael R. Burch

Perhaps at three
you'll come to tea,
to have a cuppa here?

You'll just stop in
to sip dry gin?
I only have a beer.

To name the "greats":
Pope, Dryden, mates?
The whole world knows their names.

Discuss the "songs"
of...

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Hydration day’s a month away.
Online belonging company’s an hour from 
startup stardom. Titration hors-d'oeuvre 
Viewfinder pigeonholed 
to rooftop tourist 
traps ruin’d carriage holy woods 
Hollywood's margins, Carousel 13. 
Things You’ll Bury: 
molasses sourdough flowers crypto-
currency...

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Freedom is an alter ego like a mask
Behind which censor has no eyes, and balm its blood applies.
Poetry is my freedom when wings cannot fly
The pain of the arrow in my solitary eye ...
You wrote...

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Poetry

Poetry, I found you 
where at last they chained and bound you;
with devices all around you 
to torture and confound you,
I found you—shivering, bare.

They had shorn your raven hair 
and taken both your eyes
which, once...

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A BRUSH OF ARS POETICA


Rhythmic verses wherein death paints a picturesque of life
or life itself is written in lethargic-dying state:
a dusty stocked vocabulary still cuts like a knife
when done and re-phrased witty, nonparallel and ornate.

Like...

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Ars Poetica
 
Horace circa 19 BC gave some sound advice to
poets on the art of writing poetry and drama.

The following thoughts may echo in our minds,
most likely, the intent of what he may have meant...

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someday, he will sit stiff
on our piano bench 
to which he has grown accustomed, and i,
home, will sit nearby 
in our cozy armchair, 
an old accomplice to my posture.

     i can’t...

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Ars Poetica


Poetry should woo you with the subtlety of a snake charmers flute
sway you side to side, captive, held in its sensuous grasp.
The words should lead you blindfolded through a myriad of meaning
allowing you to...

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Of 
splendid 
thrones of 
gold
Of 
treasures 
manifold

Of Sultans 
and Shahs
Of Emirs 
and Rajahs

Of 
jewelled 
caskets
or lavish 
banquets

Of 
sparkling 
crowns
and 
flowing 
gowns

Of kings 
and queens
Rulers and 
emperors

Of their 
subservient 
stewards 
and 
obedient 
butlers
Or the 
servile 
knaves...

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Poetry is a busy crosswalk downtown,
when everyone moves together with elbows 
held a little wider than normal.
Poetry is a middle-aged man, creased 
and folded, sprawled out on the neglected 
weeds in Woodruff park, eyes wide...

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I saw him in my dream
Or my dream saw him.
Girded in instructions,
Sitting opposite as a timed
adder. Listening to my glottis
spray,enchanting words elating
his heart and whipping his ear.
Diverse heads held many heads:
Head with debt and some...

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I saw him in my dream
Or my dream saw him.
Girded in instructions,
Sitting opposite as a timed
adder. Listening to my glottis
spray,enchanting words elating
his heart and whipping his ear.
Diverse heads held many heads:
Head with debt and some...

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Poetry is supposed to shake your soul until you beg it to stop;
It has to give you nightmares and make you scared to fall asleep;
It should leave your heart black and blue and bloody and...

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Story Structure


Some writers leave a story at the climax, 
like an adolescent male leaving the reader not totally satisfied. 
Other writers never bring the reader the climax, of their story. 
Good writers take the reader...

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it'd be indefinable and unknown,
especially unknown! and these unknowns,
they'd complete us...

it'd start with a cosmic sentiment,
a serendipity that's bent
toward this infinite-in,
where love in a radiant bouquet
bursting to blossom would begin --

there, where there's a music...

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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...

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       Poetry sad and artistic,
      With words like a mystic;

The art of my verse is beautiful and deep,

      ...

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To find a poem, stay close to home,  no need for magic, nor cause to roam
If closing eyes and knowing this...the wonders of poetic bliss
Are close at hand, within the air...a poem resides most...

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