Long Catharsis Poems

“Come on, let's get introduced to my play mate in a palm.
Linda, these are Joshua’s true other selfs.” 
Lelia emitting a peculiar chuckle.
A comic situation arose where I changed my voice for each of my...

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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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Sonnets LXI-LXX

Erin
by Michael R. Burch

All that’s left of Ireland is her hair?
bright carrot?and her milkmaid-pallid skin,

her brilliant air of cavalier despair,
her train of children?some conceived in sin,

the others to avoid it. For nowhere
is evidence of...

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Poems about Poems IV

The Toast
by Michael R. Burch

For longings warmed by tepid suns
(brief lusts that animated clay),
for passions wilted at the bud
and skies grown desolate and gray,
for stars that fell from tinseled heights
and mountains bleak...

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The greatest performance of my life.  
Howard’s proud piece de resistance award  on Poetry Nook for my magnum opus “Rush Amid The Rapids” in their daily member section.
After endless hours of toil, tribulation,...

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Was this a bold  endeavour or worst-case high risk plot?
 In one sense I was caught between two poles apart  concerns.
One must never underestimate indeed trivialise a devilish 
difficult decision.
A decision that may...

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Heavy storm was sweeping dark Paris streets
Lit with dim lights that dreary November night 
With ghostly shadows lurking in the corners
Cold wind dancing with dirty wet leaves fallen 
In the water pools in the middle...

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In my chambers where phantasmagoria undulate
    not as vigilant watchers but as mnemonic parasites
    I ruminate—
        no longer a singular entity but...

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Poems about Poets VII

Gallant Knight
by Michael R. Burch

for Alfred Dorn and Anita Dorn

Till you rest with your beautiful Anita,
rouse yourself, Poet; rouse and write.
The world is not ready for your departure,
Gallant Knight.

Teach us to sing...

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Say I:

On the websites I used to share, I was frequently amazed 
     Poems got greeted with silence; it seems eyes were quickly glazed. 

It’s as if I’d morphed into a...

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Ah...Satisfactorily Succumbing Into Salubrious Sleep

Aye sandman, I surrender to yar supreme governance
surreal spectacular soiree gifts subconscious sphere
soothing (analogous to natural palliative), ah...REM
member nought, asper exquisite entertaining cerebral
kaleidoscope replete with nonpareil visual trappings

aesthetically tantalizing unforgettable..., but...

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I got friggin heebie jeebies

Cuz buzzards circle o'er me
eyeing these lovely bones prithee
id est Roy L. T. Canard, Si
hence impossible mission 
to be lovey dove vee.

Vague remembrances of dream  
which recurred with frequency
transfixed by...

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stared at the two passionate lines for the longest time,
       what I wrote ..I created ... as if in a trance, as if in a surreal dream ..
 ...

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Catharthis...
neglect of the art and it's form is such a beautiful start
let go of the pain
let go of all emotion
the hatred is spread thin
Touched and such beautiful notions
I know you are striving
to be with you're...

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I saw you last on your birthday.
When I proceeded to your room
to kiss you and give you my gift,
you were surrounded by all
of my siblings, except one,
who was in church services.
 
I do love you...

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The very abridged version recounting untold tragicomic storied life of Matthew Scott Harris

I led a boring life.
The end.

All joking aside, now the epilogue.

As a bookish fellow born January 13th,1959
he attended school and got promoted
as a...

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From blank screen to logorrhea, I write with confused adumbrations

Methinks hmm, perhaps
I admittedly self plagiarize and quite aware
aforementioned amalgamated, conglomerated, 
fabricated, jerry rigged, and organized 
eye gripping titled
poem already aired a year plus ago,
though revisiting...

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Platitudes of Exactitude

Platitudes of exactitude redefining my whole attitude 
Don’t want to seem rude but I can’t help but conclude 
That the truth will protrude 
From a form that just wants to be misconstrued 

Everything...

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Since I first put on the greasepaint, smooth as cream on morning toast, they said I had a gift for making people laugh. Natural as breathing. Effortless as falling. Born to perform like a bird...

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?Writing poetry, to me is like a form of catharsis. You are exposing all of your feelings and letting it all hang out. We often are exhibiting extrovert tendencies to cover up our introvert ones....

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From Blank Screen To Logorrhea, I Write With Confused Adumbrations

Methinks hmm, perhaps
aforementioned conglomerated eye gripping titled,
poem already aired
though revisiting said theme
downplayed as thoughts blare
though similar content
invariably communicated,
sans trademark Pi Seine fishtail career
as applies to other...

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                         The idea is to...


      ...

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stared at the two passionate lines for the longest time,
what I wrote ..I created ... as if in a trance, as if in a surreal dream ..
is this poignant piece a poem?

tears fell...one after another ... every...

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O n c e upon
 a medieval arc, 
when the coral night 
 was engrossed in 
     fuchsia epitaphs of fireflies,
your fingers,
  embalmed
in the fangs of february moon,
shredded the love...

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O' moment 
of mist-glazed melancholia ~
I'm shrinking in paper-cut smokes
of shrivelling sunsets, 
amidst the seizures of silence, there I surf ~ 
in swollen skulls of selfless swan-orchids, 
that once splattered pigments of poisoned pearls
upon navy-neon...

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