Long Darning Poems

Currents
by Michael R. Burch

How can I write and not be true
to the rhythm that wells within?
How can the ocean not be blue,
not buck with the clapboard slap of tide,
the clockwork shock of wave on rock,
the...

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Beckoning
by Michael R. Burch 
 
Yesterday the wind whispered my name
while the blazing locks
of her rampant mane
lay heavy on mine.
And yesterday
I saw the way
the wind caressed tall pines
in forests laced by glinting streams
and thick with...

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Sonnets LII-LX

The Endeavors of Lips
by Michael R. Burch

How sweet the endeavors of lips: to speak
of the heights of those pleasures which left us weak
in love’s strangely lit beds, where the cold springs creak:
for there is...

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Make Do and Mend,

Years ago we had jobs
We had fun and money in our pocket
Things were much better then
Once you could go out the door
And never ever lock it

But still so many struggled
To buy food...

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At the end of summer as the days light grows shorter,
I’ll pack up the last pains of trouble, and live every tranquil
Moment of splendors warmth that I can!
In the burnet rays of sunshine, I’ll walk...

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FOREWORD: I have no idea if this actually works... I’ll let you decide

TWELTH KNIGHT

If you truly love me you shall do as I ask
To demonstrate your ardour, I set for you this task
I shall not...

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She had Velvet eyes, Satin lips
Silk skin … Seamless hips

Threaded her way into his heart
and Stitched his mind up Tight
But the Needle Point, was coming
Pricking… with all its might! …

… Posed her Textile-smile
Watched Fabric –...

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1. Shapeless Pain

How I wish the mirror were a cinema screen,
Portraying that which makes up dreams and imagination.
How I wish it had filters to colour my skin,
For now I stare at what is far from...

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John Moore
1843-1933

I was born with my lungs full of tarnation.
Leastways that was my mother’s version of it.
I do not believe anyone who was ever born, 
Came Into this world kicking,
Leastways not like me;
I tumbled in,...

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...inspired by 'Cul-De-Sac' by Allen Tate


The golden sheen had turned to rust,
the laughter to a pile of rags,
the joy to ghostly lamentations,
how the weighted second drags.
Blind and deaf to consecration,
weak the beatings of the heart,
barren...

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...inspired by 'Cul-De-Sac' by Allen Tate


The golden sheen had turned to rust,
the laughter to a pile of rags,
the joy to ghostly lamentations,
how the weighted second drags.
Blind and deaf to consecration,
weak the beatings of the heart,
barren...

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...dedicated to Allen Tate


The golden sheen has turned to rust,
the laughter to a pile of rags,
the joy to ghostly lamentations,
how the weighted second drags.
Blind and deaf to consecration,
weak the beatings of the heart,
barren now what...

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Most of my precious childhood memories center around my mother. She’s the reason why I’m alive, why I smile, and why I cry. The memory of her, her strength, her compassion, and her integrity flow...

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Sister Faith took me in,
teaching me all
different practical things,
everything from canning foods
and churning butter,
milking the cows and
squeezing the udders,
sewing and darning all
of the clans clothes,
washing them all by
using a washboard,
hanging them on the
clothesline outside,
going for...

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If I were your love, 
I could be your best friend, 
Defender and comfort zone. 
I could always stand for you 
As so crazy for your beauty and  shapes , 
So impressed by your...

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The golden sheen has turned to rust, 
from Gucci to a garment bag, 
the joy to ghostly lamentations, 
how the weighted seconds drag. 
Blind and deaf to consecration, 
weak the beatings of the heart, 
barren...

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I WISH I'D LEARNED TO SEW

I wish I’d learned to sew
My mother asks me how
How I’ve survived till now…
I tell her I don’t know

I’m feeling so forlorn
My socks got old and worn
So I’ve thrown them...

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"Those were better times. Good times!
Being round my grands…

It reminds me of my grandparents;
Grandma, baba, ouma, bomma grandmother;
Love to read poems sing them ole time songs;
So much love they given each of us;

Those were better...

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Dark slide grind

Skating around issues
Breaking ice around in spheres 
Wearing gaudy skirts that sparkle
In the wind
People never believe things until 
It’s the end

What will it take to convince?
Social issues don’t mean a thing if there...

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I opened the sewing basket, letting my eyes and hands run over the tools she had used—the scissors, the darning egg, the pins and pincushion, and spools of thread.  I gazed at the metal...

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I open the sewing basket, letting my eyes and hands run over the tools she had used—the scissors, the darning egg, the pins and pincushion, and spools of thread.  I gaze at the metal...

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Tasked to continue smooth function of cult compound 
Sixteen svelte helpers of mindless vibrant physiche
Hurl their determination found in daily frequency 
Milking cows, picking fruit, darning gowns

Draped swathes of cotton smother love worthy curves
Bunches clutched...

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How to
Capture
Between pages
Or pixels
Or caught between
Stitches 
Do memories catch
Between the threads?
Does love
Linger in the ink?
One can pray
In the silence
Where laughter once rang
Find the steady beat
Of a sewing machine
Where your heart used to beat
Trying to sew
Myself...

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by the time you've read this 
i'm afraid our ships may have 
already boarded i do hope 
you are not to ravished about
 
our departure truly you and i both 
know it tis for the...

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Interment

I sat by the window trying to catch sunbeam, when a man 
in a black suit, that hung loose on his skinny frame, walked 
past and I saw him disappear where the sandy road ends...

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