Long Drawn out Poems

Poems about Poems (I)



What the Poet Sees
by Michael R. Burch

What the poet sees,
he sees as a swimmer
~~~underwater~~~
watching the shoreline blur
sees through his breath’s weightless bubbles...
Both worlds grow obscure.



Muse/Goddess
by Michael R. Burch

“What will you conceive in...

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No Mark
by Michael R. Burch

A wave implodes, 
impaled upon
impassive rocks...

this evening
the thunder of the sea
is a wild music filling my ear...

you are leaving
and the ungrieving
winds demur...

telling me
that nothing returns
as it was before...

here where you have...

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The State of the Art (I)
by Michael R. Burch

Has rhyme lost all its reason
and rhythm, renascence?
Are sonnets out of season
and poems but poor pretense?

Are poets lacking fire,
their words too trite and forced?
What happened to desire?
Has...

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Sonnets XVII-XXIV

Discrimination
by Michael R. Burch

The meter I had sought to find, perplexed,
was ripped from books of "verse" that read like prose.
I found it in sheet music, in long rows
of hologramic CDs, in sad wrecks
of long-forgotten...

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"Salvage"


Salvage the fixating salvation 
unfurling from the wreckage
of a numb world twisted inside
treasure climbs swimming 
the ladder from the deep of all things 
reaching upwards travelling in a new time
of melting morpheme moments overlapping 
dissolved...

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Chinese Poets: English Translations

These are modern English translations of poems by some of the greatest Chinese poets of all time, including Du Fu, Huang O, Li Bai, Li Ching-jau, Li Qingzhao, Po Chu-I, Tzu Yeh,...

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Bruh, I know your up but it’s getting late
I got to make peace with you
Hommie I have bitten off more then I could chew
I’m sweating from the new day’s sun
now I know your in for...

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One bright night
In the Twilight of day
I awoken to a dream
With in a world of worlds 
Not my self, but still the same
What was it? Never more
What year was it? Forgotten 
One must be careful...

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Coffee or tea?

Fragmented frogs frolicking fruitlessly freeing flavoursome fairy freckles,
But what of the speckled hound in the bin?
Well he growled,
He snarled,
The sole paw pilot pivoting,
How interesting was it to note though that the frogs although...

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The Grizzly Old Cowboy's Night At The Saloon


That wash-bin washed away tons of trail-dirt
Many a pint of blood too said the old man
He was lean and mean in his cowboy shirt
Weather-beaten face and western sun's...

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"You in the military?"

I was confused at first and didn't know why the man would ask me such a question. But then I remembered my recent haircut.

"No... is it because I shaved my head, that...

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We might expect LeftBrain deduced beliefs and monoculturing values
to develop a discontinuously co-arising energy and information base,
becoming  dualistically dysfunctional,
degenerative
of Earth's limiting fossil-fuel declining energy,
and yet with more reclining information supporting slow-growth
of recycling resources
such as...

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Diary Notes: Lamentable laissez-faire

                     …the lêche cul is
back
       ...

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POTD 7th Mar 2018

I trust you like the music video clip which enhances the poem

Like dark molten honey caressing her tongue
and soul food for taste buds addicted to caffeine
Coffee has its own excitation
The book has...

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(A raven’s shadow falls across the page. A quill scratches furiously, punctuated by heavy sighs.)

December… a month draped in the funereal crepe of the dying year.
Darkness descends with a swift, predatory grace, the sun a...

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Upon the precipice of an abyss

I stand able, eager, & ready to jump
impossible mission to swallow lump
muscles primed analogous to pump
prayer for soft landing on mine rump
bereft this johnny come lately trump
petting and donning shock...

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                                  ...

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5/6/24

I got to grind
All the time
In order to rise
As it coincides and goes with time
An ode that's signed
With an open mind
Looking at it from both sides 
Otherwise
I'll just nosedive 
If I fuss and whine
When there's...

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This is the stuff some hearts are made of.
Anguish. Elation. Say it once again!
Just for the sake of hearing a feeling's name,
and the long drawn out sigh
of sounds echoing out of breath, out of breath,
out...

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Khatia Buniatishvili's Tour de Force of Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto N° 1 in B-flat minor on Zubin Mehta's 80th Birthday*

… the caged-beast terrified defying the donderbus blasts vollies of muskets and cannons heralding the charge cavernous...

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this culinary humble verboten pie eating older mwm 
   in sore want of coital aid
with no intent to rile nor up braid
certainly not prompt ye to call military enfilade
nor cause nerves to get...

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This struggling accomplished path winds,
Spiral like stairs leading us to the point;
Average wingedhipsters today more like
Displaced thugs. With no sense.
At every corner, we're speaking rigorous
Reminders.

That we all eventually yawn.your wombs

America, I'm wore out, worrying about
This...

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I am born into the Calvagna family, a weak frail child. 

At the age of three I tell my mother I will be a hero someday. She weeps holding me closely. 

In late August everyone...

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a walker, I.


A walker fancying himself
a hiker, on a walk, self-narrated as
an expedition.

The incline is gentle, consistent,
insistent and yet i insist,
as i am inclined to do,
to think it steeper.
In fact, to think deeper,
about most things.

a...

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I’d never ask you to walk in my shoes.
But rather see the world through my eyes.
Take a journey within the mind of the lost, and perhaps you’ll realize 

That my complexity has a depth that...

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