Long Chanticleer Poems

Vacuum
by Michael R. Burch

Over hushed quadrants
forever landlocked in snow,
time’s senseless winds blow...

leaving odd relics of lives half-revealed,
if still mostly concealed...
such are the things we are unable to know

that once intrigued us so.

Come then, let us...

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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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Sonnets X-XVI


Archaischer Torso Apollos (“Archaic Torso of Apollo”)
by Rainer Maria Rilke
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

We cannot know the beheaded god
nor his eyes' forfeited visions. But still
the figure's trunk glows with the strange vitality
of a...

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MODERN SONNETS II

I prefer the original definition of the sonnet as a “little song” of indeterminate form and length. These modern sonnets vary from more-or-less traditional to free verse.



In Praise of Meter
by Michael R. Burch

The...

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It began...


One day in a far off land where roamed the fearsome Chanticleer.  
There lived a mighty military man of rank, if not of prowess. 
He sought to tame the wily beast to bend...

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A pair of blue wings is hovering
against the inky black covering
within ‘Little Fox’ constellation
of Vulpecula designation,

portrayed with stipple sidereal
in Hubble image ethereal,
‘Hen two dash four three seven’ labeled.
A hen with fox is Aesop fabled,

except it...

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Eyes like fantastic moons that shiver in some stagnant lake
folded like a white rose-leaf
hair was golden as tints of sunrise
tongue is like a scarlet snake.

It took on deep roar as of a cloven world
running to...

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In Praise of Meter
by Michael R. Burch

The earth is full of rhythms so precise
the octave of the crystal can produce
a trillion oscillations, yet not lose
a second's beat. The ear needs no device
to hear the unsprung...

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I am so very tired
I think you'll never know
How much of me I spend following
Chasing where you go

My thoughts wander to you
I construct a world of rights
I try to make myself someone
That maybe you could...

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Matilda the peregrine Chanticleer
                               ...

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Oh, how's this work, how to reFrame?
The s p i n  I'm in
"I hear your Name and I'm aFlame!..."

In Portraits to arabesques in Castles in Spain
And belles letteres of A. Nin
Oh, how's this work,...

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Oh no, I can’t do it here!
     And my feathers are a mess!
Can’t a clucker have a little privacy?

I don’t know about the rest of you 
    ...

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