Long Bluebird Poems

Thoughts can be thin fractures in the order of things.
Sometimes my dorm room seems a sterile sarcophagus, like an accusation, or an interrogation about my romantic choices, with nothing warm or inviting there. Sometimes I’ve...

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It was the weekend, and I was sleeping late that day,
Alone with the morning, while savoring marvels of May.

As I drowsed luxuriantly, at the outskirts of dreams,
I heard a strange sound, while soaking in gay...

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Again the alarm is set.

Strawberries, date squares…Yum, Yum.   

The alarm rings again. The tea party is over.

 She returns to her perch where her wings are immediately clipped by the Bald Eagle who...

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"Burnt Aqua"



I can taste the sun
on my tongue
it spills down 
my throat
like burnt aqua
healing the beating frisson

I am ebony inside
shading in my shadow world
some somnolent soul
waking from slumber’s dream dance 
a small death in life...

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"Skinwalker"


That one’s mind 
is like a scene from Chagall
dreams flow like blood bleeds
across the cortex page curtain call
an audience with the silent speakeasy 
cerebellum with its swift
matter-of-factness 
logically guides the fingers 
to dance across keys...

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People often say I talk a lot, but I hardly think that is true,
Like the whispers about the bluebird, of which he never knew.

Talking helps a lot with my job, which is in public relations,
As...

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I was an irrepressible and happy young woman, and graceful ballet dancer,
Who lived for twirling on a world stage, as red berries are shrub laughter!

I had practiced for so many years, striving to become the...

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I was a prolific and enthusiastic artist, like a sparkling jewel rife with colors,
Taking joy from nature themes and others, as in childhood joys of summers.

I painted active people and wilder places, houses, sunsets and...

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Bring two poems is what he said. 

She chose a Personification, ‘Violin’, (the proud recipient of an International Poetry contest award), and a narrative, ‘The Rise and fall of an Empire.’ 

***

A Raven greets her.

She...

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So many, maybe millions
No, billions. Trillions?
Of stars, a quiet, hot snowfall
of white stars; sandal season squall.
Each birch tree here outdoing 
January's record accumulation.

Weeks of hour after hour after hour
upon day upon day upon day of
birches'...

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Early Poems XX

These are my early poems or juvenilia. 


Paradise
by Michael R. Burch, age 15

There’s a sparkling stream
And clear blue lake
A home to beaver,
Duck and drake

Where the waters flow
And the winds are soft
And the sky...

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I was a college music teacher, engaged in pitch, tempo, rhythm and melody,
As lavish planets dance around a golden star, with the zeal of fuchsia fidelity.

I taught harmony, vocals and singing, and how to play...

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[[[POEM]]]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0AcHR_0PzU
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkrCMI2fXTo&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8OcQ9A-5noM&feature=related

Evermore-vivid the-brazen soul confused belittled, frightened... torn - 
applauding one the other each brimming with...

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“Life is like a country park”, the peasant said to the King.

The King so sure of his profound answer,
Looked coldly into the peasants eyes
and without a murmur burst out into laughter,
Tell me peasant why would...

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I was a vivacious, aroma loving barista, laboring midnights in a coffee shop,
Offering tasty drinks to fellow night owls, while others dreamed of lollipops.

My work was so pleasant and suited me, for I was enamored...

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I was a fashionable horticulturist, for elegant flowers keep eternally in style,
Like the saffron sun, coming and going, always causing dark skies to smile.

Plants were a jade preoccupation, long before glad days of my rosy...

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I adored being out on the immense, rushing sea, and I had myriad dreams,
Like slumbering, yellow days of summer, with its vibrant, gorgeous themes.

My dream was for a great sea adventure, when the blush was...

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I was a famous conductor, and performing beautiful  music was my joy,
As diamond sunshine, to pervade darkness, finds any means to employ.

Music had long been a part of me, in that I sang long...

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Clouds spiral down and curl around to touch me
—not those western drizzle shrouds
baring a soul of misery mizzle
...though I adore a good wallow in sorrow  —no 
these clouds come from yonder bluebird wilds
white cirrus...

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The Master Artist Pt 1  --Pt 2--the ending, is the next posting

The artist’s tray was loaded with colors, each pastel waiting for its turn:
Hues of indigo blues lie impatiently, sparks of carmine seemed to...

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I barely notice the horse as he walks,
his gait is so incredibly smooth,
we’ve been riding all morning on this ridge,
and have settled down into a nice groove.

My friend Joshua rides just behind me,
drinking in this...

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The bluebird's nest
 
A mother bluebird sits on her eggs,
fretful and worried, looking for the dregs
Of the life that belonged to her.
And all was peaceful and all was right, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And...

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T i m e stops for no one,
as searing seconds swerve
through seasonal squalls,
thawing frost that sleeps upon
the necks of onyx roses,
where pain is etched in skeletal sins~
across pruned plumes,
fleeting through amethyst air, 
merged in changing...

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While waiting but not watching for the sun to set, perhaps the bullfrogs are creating the shadows with their croaks, my friend screams out because he has been bitten by a fly. He is not...

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I'd have loved to see the bluebirds fly
above the white chalk-cliffs of Dover--
and as they were blithely soaring over,
immersed in thought I'd lie
in calm repose upon that beach,
admiring their swooping forms,
evanescent, in fleeting storms,
like ballet...

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