Long Burnish Poems
Long Burnish Poems. Below are the most popular long Burnish by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Burnish poems by poem length and keyword.
Pull out the easel
set the canvas
positioned long and slender clean slate.
Sketch the figures huddled and dark-bound hostage
to charcoal-cooled coals
etching in shadow images;
Faceless entities
slipping in and out the background
earth-toned sojourners accepting, alone, quiet, dying;
Still the images in silence
hard and disfigured
grotesque horrors in place;
Somber soul-drained eyes
skeletal socket holes
buried in the heart and mind;
Let tears fall down their cheeks
in wonder, awe, and
fear of what happens next.
Acrylic primers dilute the wash in the storyline
flaking and cracking
tearing each soul and truth away;
Polyptych blended burnish bleeds
quiet, soft exuding
whimpered cries, asking why;
Chiaroscuro collages of death from life
fading to diluent breaths
the heartbeat of an unholy silence;
Graded gouache monochrome scraper boards
releasing sfumatos of singularities
communal lives sacrificed
Varnish the final rendition
camouflage the realities,
the actuality of what it represents,
Time immemorial in genocidal atrocities
of Native Americans, Cambodians, Hawaiians,
Jews, Rwandans, Bosnia, Darfur,.
When does it stop?
The never-ending list
life is more precious than this
until change comes
Paint the Picture Black and Gray
pray
then act.
Where are you going, my Little Ones?
Oh, my precious, dear Little Ones ...
do not dishearten at my absences,
as with all, they are but evanescence.
Do I not return each twilight to romp?
Have you yet not grown accustomed?
Be still, Little Ones, I am but at task,
inspiring, painting, weaving romance!
My beloved Little Ones, how you vex!
Endless, our games of hide-and-seek,
chasing You, (marbled blue at my feet),
Sol, waiting to wink us into the dawn.
Oh, it matters not how bright you are,
little consequence, your proportions,
you charm and beguile the sky itself!
Is that not an accolade worthy of any?
There gleams none like you, Little Ones,
I am loved, yes, but my charm is brief,
your allurement is eternal, perfect, true.
How I envy you, my darling Little Ones!
Ah, Sol, such a sweet kiss goodnight,
can you not tarry once to warm us -
to but burnish this blue face of mine?
Oh, such a dazzling adventure, that!
But you are the life-giver, Great Sol,
and ever dutiful in your daily charge -
I, but night light for Terra, (beneath me),
callow caretaker of tides ... and dreams.
Ephemeral, my stay in this wondrous realm,
still, you and your glimmering Little Ones,
will prance and rollick on heaven's breast
'til the blessed angels themselves depart!
So I'll ask of you now, Great Sol, please,
watch over my bright wee friends, alight,
for our nightly games have warmed me,
and their companionship, ever soothed ...
My shining ...
precious ...
dear ...
Little Ones!
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "A Star's Heartbeat" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
to wend through golden grasses of my past
with chill winds at my back from o'er the hill
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last
thus far behind me stands that boy, miscast
while just a jester, much too bright and shrill
to wend through golden grasses of my past
the latter lad, thus pressed to love too fast
so saved his heart to burnish, soft and still
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last
he stumbled into manhood, loves amassed
with wisdom gained from tragedy and thrill
to wend through golden grasses of my past
encumbrances and burdens grew too vast
while finding warmth in darkness and a pill
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last
so now I cross the fields of time, steadfast
renewed with all the love one heart can will
to wend through golden grasses of my past
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Brian's Choice 10, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Your Best 2019-2020 Villanelle" Poetry Contest, William Kekaula, Judge & Sponsor.
Pink the sunset which filtered through the leaves
to burnish your skin on one afternoon,
when fireflies glittered like radiant weaves,
Vanishing in the grass. We knew that soon
those ebony clouds gathering would force
us to flee the glade through a birdsong’s tune:
Enticed then to stay, stay madly on course,
dare the oncoming rainfall ...and a smile
enlivened your face with such insolent force.
Till lightning crackled as we wait a while,
you gasped, and oh we fondled everywhere;
while a conniving star reeled to beguile.
A wildcat rushed out and paused low to stare,
While we huddled tightly ... too close to care!
First Place
Violet Flame of Transmutation burn
burnish sacral until Holy White
thaw caw-caw ______ S C R E A M
black crows at door
resist no more day, night ~ clear S I G H T
gawking, LAUGHING
Asperges, Domine ! pyramids resound
Asperges, Domine ! ~ drops
s.p.r.i.n.k.l.e. dangling, puddling _________calm pond resulting
Melchedzedek hails grail no frailty rebounds
purple priestesses hold light in sight no fear DARE daring challenging coming coming came
strike and dissolve FELT ETERNITY
C.O.N.Q.U.E.R.E.D no clinging
chanting mantra with lanterns
phœnix RISE
RISING
R I S E N
from grey ashes in tantrum
burning earning firing lightning LIGHT
dark serpents to NewEarth f l a s h I NG
cry sobbing on hob hot tears so dear
brain raining a forest, a rainforest of rainbows reflecting, refracting REMINDING
remembering WHO I AM I AM YOU
sow luminal seeds, branding spring fling
felicitous fountains bringing singing
SINGING
sigh a high perting hurting destruction for
Recognition softly
dance spirit floor, hugging Self’s delight !
FEEL the D*E*A*L*
a moist flowery deal to peal ___~~
Prying with my lonesomeness,
Absolutely lost in the poetic world,
And bemused by mystic imagination,
I had lost my real self!
Someone fascinated called on me,
And I kept pondering for a while,
If it was my name I had all doubts,
Oh Yes ! It was me for sure!
Who am I to you?
Prevails a trust as you say,
Number one to you all the time,
As fresh as dew I would stay!
Who am I to you?
A never die feeling dearest you hold,
Embraced close to your heart,
Addicted to togetherness you will stay !
Don't let me fade as a morning dew,
And tire out with time as they say,
I am no thing that would perish,
Close to your soul i will ever stay !
Transformed from diffident to intrepid,
Headstrong to humble and euphoric,
Witty with humour, Crass to burnish,
That's what I am to you dear !!!
Written by Dr. Upma Sharma
On 25/10/13
I laid me body stomach down atop a grassy knoll...
here at Highland Manor Apartments
earlier today Juneteenth 2022,
(a pitch perfect spring day)
with serious intent to read
seat of the pants suspense thriller
The New Comprehensive
A-Z Crossword Dictionary.
Invariably, yours truly
quickly experienced drowsiness,
succumbed to deep sleep
and dreamt being linkedin
with livingsocially off the grid
among ecological, liberal, social minded
people progressive in act, deed, and thought
versus participating in consumerist paradigm.
As a conscious conscientious counterpart
the missus shops with a conscience
and yours truly considers her price savvy
when she purchases groceries
at ALDI, Giant, LIDL, or other supermarket.
Impossible mission to adopt modus operandi,
whereby wife would entertain notion to husband
energy garnering fruits and vegetables
courtesy sweat equity
since we lack basic homesteading skills,
nor consider either of us
adequately financially solvent
to contact compatible intentional community
since requisite criteria
require a healthy monetary stash of money.
Unlikely substantial windfall will appear out of the blue,
nor grandiose wish to draw winning lottery ticket,
thus sobering truth to burnish marketable skills
finds me seek assistance
courtesy office of vocational rehabilitation in general
and counselor Donna Marchese in particular,
which most likely entails
securing training to learn Microsoft Office Applications.
More precisely, some familiarity exists
regarding understanding computer software
since admission of foolhardiness
now averred how countless golden opportunities
slipped thru these ofttimes sweaty fingers.
Though never successfully completed,
received funding back in the day from:
CETA, O(ffice) of V(ocational) R(ehabilitation)
twice before whereby
the former and/or latter program
allocated unspecified dollars
(poor Ray McNeil, the first OVR counselor,
whose tiresome love's labour's lost for naught)
in an effort to acquire gainful employment,
which in all honesty sabotaged
cause of that bugaboo severe social anxiety
more specifically diagnosed
as schizoid personality disorder;
no shame to admit mental health crisis.
I wake one day, again for long to sleep
All life to find: if life or death is fake,
And learn, man’s here to sow, seldom to reap.
Death lives with life all through lifetime to creep,
Crawling along like a slithering snake,
I wake one day, again for long to sleep.
A faithful friend, keen life’s friendship to keep,
Death would never even dream, life to take,
Beware, life’s here to sow, seldom to reap.
Life’s just a tiny blip of time, no leap,
It strives in fleeting time the most to make,
I wake one day, again for long to sleep.
And live, forget, fail to find truth so deep,
Try to swim but sink in life’s shallow lake,
And learn to sow, sometime later to reap.
Life’s to garner light in every round trip
That faintly burnish hereafter’s dark stake,
I wake one day, again for long to sleep,
Life’s just to sow, let death decide to reap.
_____________________________________
Villanelles | 05.10.2012, revised March 2022 |
Forgiving another I'm quick to do,
if forgetting is not also required.
Their echos iterate in an old queue
of actions I, alone, may have inspired.
Forgiving myself for mistakes I've made
(thousands wait patiently to be absolved.)
Another's perception sometimes I'd trade
for I've become much too deeply involved.
I must let things go, erase from my mind
wrongs perceived as caused by others or self.
Not allow thoughts to roam until they find
paths of worry never placed on a shelf.
Rethinking actions: at best of no use.
Dawn's beauty signals a day newly born.
Time flies too quickly to burnish each bruise.
Love, after all, rescues worries I've worn.
January 11, 2023
for Sotto's "Revealing Your Soul and Other Tensions" Contest
These are epigrams by Michael R. Burch
Road to Recovery
by Michael R. Burch
It’s time to get up and at ’em
and out of this rut that I’m sat in.
A man may attempt to burnish pure gold, but who can think to improve on his mother?—Mahatma Gandhi, translation by Michael R. Burch
A mother's heart is God's ultimate masterpiece.—St. Therese of Lisieux, translation by Michael R. Burch
Fools call wisdom foolishness.—Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch
My objective is not to side with the majority, but to avoid the ranks of the insane.—Marcus Aurelius, translation by Michael R. Burch
I discovered the Goddess in your body's curves and crevasses.—attributed to Sappho, translation by Michael R. Burch
Warmthless beauty attracts but does not engage us; it floats like hookless bait.—Capito, translation by Michael R. Burch
Experience is the best teacher but a hard taskmaster.—Michael R. Burch
Time will tell, as it always does in the end.—Michael R. Burch
Time flies, until it's flown.—Michael R. Burch
How can the Bible be "infallible" when from beginning to end it commands and condones but never once condemns the satanic institution of slavery?—Michael R. Burch
Atheists give God the "benefit of the doubt."—Michael R. Burch
The enemy is not without, but within our gates; it is with our own complacence, our own folly, our own cutthroats and criminals that we must contend. — Cicero, translation by Michael R. Burch
Let me bend the world to my will
though it resist still.
—Michael R. Burch
Keywords/Tags: epigrams, road, recovery, rut, Sappho, goddess, beauty, wisdom, mother, god, teacher, time, bible