Long Begetter Poems
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It’s lonely here, at the top,
the manure high and much
to shovel; fertilizer on sale
today! My family business,
hauling and distributing animal,
fecal slop – pungent every
route and obligatory stop...
Quite enterprising to make
good use, of what they eat
and freely let loose --
all nature born to recycle --
?~Wonder if the soul resents what it knows,
the scented consumption of bodies kills
what it grows --
knows what it uses (a generation)
to make love and
strife (life the fickle-begetter of life)
leaves from behind such an
odious spice… Clouds form,
sky spits and rains – man eats,
drinks, sh’ts on all mountains,
in seas on rolling plains. Seems,
no-matter what man produces
involves decay and pile of stink --
When God planned His evolving nature,
did He perhaps have occasion to burp, pinch His Nose,
fart and blink?
Sorrow tumbled into words, an antidote
When sobs choked; venom in the throat.
I hear in wrath, again, his disgusting gloat.
Follows, her muffled groans upon each smote.
In a while, she whimpers in an awesome note.
Probably, in pain, bearing his lusty frote.
I lay jack-knifed, as ever, a vain mote.
Tears overflow in such relations of fraught.
An unwanted witness I’ve been, still zygote.
Begetter that blessed me with love drought!
Who cares? My soul long for draught.
No more! I’m tired of being the scapegoat.
I pray to thee, free us of this cutthroat.
In time please, send us thy lifeboat!
Date:17/06/16
Placed 10 for contest Desperate Housewife by Poet Destroyer A (2/07/16)
Placed 2 for contest Sadness by Silent One (11/02/17)
"A Serious Matter" is a free-verse-ish or "loose" villanelle.
A Serious Matter
by Michael R. Burch
Listen, love, it’s a serious matter:
I love you better despite the fetter.
I love you madder than any hatter.
Now even though you’re my chains’ begetter
and keep me your slave with that braless sweater,
I love you better despite the fetter.
You say you’re afraid that you’re getting “fatter,”
but your curves are my lust’s prime aider and abettor.
Listen, love, it’s a serious matter.
I love you madder than any hatter.
When you come to bed in sheer lace, my thoughts scatter:
first to the firmer, then to the latter.
I love you better despite the fetter.
I love you madder than any hatter.
Listen, love, it’s a serious matter!
Keywords/Tags: villanelle, love, love hurts, mad, madness, slave, slavery, lust, passion, desire, curves, lace, bed, chain, chains, fetter, fetters, ties that bind, mad hatter, madder than a hatter
Father I’ve been a long way from home;
Daddy I’ve finally know where I’d belong;
In you
I do
Belong within the view of you
Your very essence subdue
I’m you
O' FATHER GOD I'M YOU--I AM IN YOU--
The very reason I belong;
Is because I’ve been in spaced
From the universe, energy graced
My purpose and being been all
I am that I am because
I’m part of you I choose to be loved by you
Pa Pa I’ve been walking alone;
Begetter Elohim I’ve finally know where I so begin;
In you
I do
Belonging in the fields of vision
Your very essence quell
I’ve made a conscience decision
I’m you
O' FATHER GOD I'M YOU--I AM IN YOU--
For your very purpose, for your glory;
Created in me your individualize story;
Holy, Is because I’ve been graced
From the universe, energy space
My purpose and being been all
I am that I am cause
I’m part of you I choose to be loved by you
Father I’ve been a long way from home;
Daddy I’ve finally know where I’d belong;
In you
I do
Belong within the view of you
Your very essence subdue
I’m you
O' FATHER GOD I'M YOU--I AM IN YOU--
10/31/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
stones
by michael r. burch, circa age 16
i.
far below me lies a village
with its houses hewn from stone
and while Everyman who lives there
bravely claims he’s not alone,
i can tell him, yes u are!
for u cannot touch the stars
no matter how u try;
nor can u tame the mountains,
nor appease the darkening sky.
ii.
and late at night
their flinty fires blazing cannot warm their stony hearts;
though the villagers “believe” (in what?)
the terror-fear departs
them only at mid-day
for they fear what Others say
when their walls have shut them in.
iii.
and do they sin?
who am i to say?
most stones are shades of gray;
what does it matter, anyway?
iv.
oh, i think that living is not easy
and that dying is not hard ...
as the stars above wink, meaningless,
so they are;
so we all are.
v.
a legion without sound
in dusky darkness drawing down
to settle on the town,
the Night is like a stone —
hard and dark and rolling on,
hard and dark and rolling on.
Villanelle: A Serious Matter
by Michael R. Burch
Listen, love, it’s a serious matter:
I love you better despite the fetter.
I love you madder than any hatter.
Now even though you’re my chains’ begetter
and keep me your slave with that braless sweater,
I love you better despite the fetter.
You say you’re afraid that you’re getting “fatter,”
but your curves are my lust’s prime aider and abettor.
Listen, love, it’s a serious matter.
I love you madder than any hatter.
When you come to bed in sheer lace, my thoughts scatter:
first to the firmer, then to the latter.
I love you better despite the fetter.
I love you madder than any hatter.
Listen, love, it’s a serious matter!
hiro
Hero hiro father I admired;
Always employing/employed
Not a LAZY bone;
faTHer always working
Always working, devoted;
Male parent, begetter, patriarch;
Biological father dad, daddy;
Always employing/employed
Not a LAZY bone;
faTHer always working
Always working, devoted;
Co-nurturer, father
very, very strong work effects, never took vacations
Next to God second best provider;
never on unemployment or disability, a survival;
Only saw him cry twice;
When his mom and and his wife died;
On top of his head, never saw him with hair (ever);
His strength was liken not Samson,
His strength was in his hands;
Always working, worked for others for 25 years;
In 1980 became self-employed lasted till his death worked 15 years
My hero, hiro, my daddy-father
He fathered three children, (always, always wanted a daughter)
A great provider, always working...
bringing into the world, give, gave life to spawn three children, three sons;
Always employing/employed
Not a LAZY bone;
faTHer always working
Always working, devoted;
My hero, hiro,
my lower cased physical, always working father
faTHer always working
Always working, devoted;
My hero, hiro,faTHer always working
my hiro, my faTHer
Always working,
8/20/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2019©
written for project North Omaha Writers Group (NOW) class assignment
—An Astronomy of What Love Leaves Behind—
There are nights when heaven dons
its argent hush, and all the stars seem less
to glitter than to keep their elder watch
over the fathomless remainder of the world.
A train goes through the fields. One window
briefly ensnares a face—then yields it back
to night.
Yet nothing yields back what it has touched.
A word may enter blood.
A kindness, long after its utterance,
may burgeon in another's darkest hour.
A father's voice, long since surrendered
to silence, may haunt the cadence
of a daughter's speech.
Thus absence is no vacancy.
It is continuance
wearing the vesture of loss.
The dead do not ascend.
They permeate.
They pass beneath the common skin of things
like telluric fire beneath a winter field,
altering what they nevermore can touch.
What love once enters, time cannot expel;
It makes the soul the place where causes dwell.
And far above, the stars—
those sepulchral reliquaries of flame—
still pour their antique splendour down
long after their furnaces are ash.
What strange celestial jurisprudence:
that light should outlive its begetter,
that tenderness should outlive the hand,
that one mortal life should leave its impress
upon a life it shall never behold?
Then, between two stars, the darkness opens—
not as a wound,
but as an iris
for which creation has forgotten the colour.
For one breath, the void grows lucent.
I look away.
Some immensities become profaned
the moment language lays its hand upon them.
And I understand—though understanding fails me—
we are not preserved by remembrance.
We are preserved by alteration.
Whatever has entered another soul
has crossed beyond the sovereignty of return;
it cannot be restored to what it was
before the crossing.
I thought the stars preserved the dead in light;
They showed me how the living make them bright.
The stars may perish into their own abyss.
The dead may relinquish every name.
But what has once entered another life
becomes an irrevocable syllable
in the grammar of its becoming—
and what has altered the living
cannot be made unborn.