Long Drunk Poems

A special dedication to Beyoncé's "Drunk in Love" song in her album "Beyoncé", which came out in 2013.
 
{intro}
I took a cat nap...yah put on your classic, clever-mini cap 
drank that sorrow sap, my companion...

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They were gambling in front of the house.
Manservants and pages bustled about
Serving Suitors who just curse and carouse.
Few mix wine with water. I heard one shout,
"Clean down the tables with wet sponges! Rouse
Yourselves! And when...

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Hate the feelings of ew's and ugh's...let's pause before we put our paws on this unmanageable cause with silent applause (quiet interest or hushed enthusiasm)
What's the cause of these negative, gross, worthless flawful laws that...

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Ah yeah ah oh
Ah yeah ah oh
So scared and fragile...
So weak for only awhile...
Unfaithful me is as cold as glaciers of disgrace glamorized 
Unfaithful you is as hot as fire of desire, burning...you and I...

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“Éagmais croí a dhíscaoileadh ar gach eagla.
Faoi dhíon taobh istigh de na blianta seo.
Fanacht i bhfianaise, a dhíscaoileadh ar gach eagla.
Ós rud é go ndearnadh tú a chaitheamh.
Briseadh an tost seo”



"An Bee Cailleach"


She lives to...

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Rejection Slips 3

Rejection Slip
by Michael R. Burch

Whenever my writing gets rejected,
I always wonder how the rejecter got elected.
Are we exchanging at the same Bourse?
(Excepting present company, of course!)

When editors reject my poems, did I slip...

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Villanelles

The villanelle is a poetic form based on repetition, with a double refrain. 



Villanelle: The Divide
by Michael R. Burch

The sea was not salt the first tide...
was man born to sorrow that first day, 
with the...

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Nucleotidings
by Michael R. Burch

“We will walk taller!” said Gupta,
sorta abrupta,
hand-in-hand with his mom,
eyeing the A-bomb.

“Who needs a mahatma
in the aftermath of NAFTA?
Now, that was a disaster,”
cried glib Punjab.

“After Y2k,
time will spin out of control anyway,”
flamed...

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Near Sainthood
by Mirza Ghalib
translation by Kanu V. Prajapati and Michael R. Burch

On the subject of mystic philosophy, Ghalib,
your words might have seemed deeply profound
and we might have pronounced you a saint...
if only we hadn't found
you...

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“ANTE BELLUM”


BEIGEBest served where it can’t be seen
On Stirling Silver platters
With redruM narcotics
Delivered by sharp Blood-Red
Well-mannered talons
Strutting in sleek wet rolling tight-skirted
Long French Silk Stockinged legs all the way down to 
Lethal Six Inch stilettos...

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The Field
by Rumi 
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Far beyond sermons of right and wrong there's a sunlit field. 
I'll meet you there. 
When the soul lazes in such lush grass 
the world is too...

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Veronica Franco translations

Veronica Franco (1546-1591) was a Venetian courtesan who wrote literary-quality poetry and prose.

Capitolo 19: A Courtesan's Love Lyric (I) 
by Veronica Franco
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

"I resolved to make a virtue of...

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Doggerel II: Doggerel about Doggerel, or, More Nonsense Verse

The Board
by Michael R. Burch

Accessible rhyme is never good.
The penalty is understood:
soft titters from dark board rooms where
the businessmen paste on their hair
and, Walter Mitties, woo the...

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Like Hannibal we crossed the pass and crossed 
   the Alps (okay, the Brynderwyn Hills) 
and a bridge too far on north-west passage.
   From out of the Valley of Mizpah 
to...

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Birdsong
by Rumi
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Birdsong relieves
my deepest griefs:
now I'm just as ecstatic as they,
but with nothing to say!
Please universe,
rehearse
your poetry
through me!



I choose to love you in silence
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I...

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"Dream 1: 4 Weeks in Positano"



Kisses long linger warm lips tasted intense
so sweet like cured Valencia Oranges
lips liquored triple sec not dry drunk on love
softly grazed, then held long

slow, deep, warm and wet

The story is...

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“Now behind the eyes and secrets of the dreamers in the streets rocked to sleep by the sea, see the titbits and topsyturvies, bobs and buttontops, bags and bones, ash and rind and dandruff and...

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it feels good to escape
with authors and poets
and dream up new places
with tales that are spun.

but sometimes what's real
and sometimes what isn't
encroach on each other
and read just as one.

such are the worlds
of rhyme but no...

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"Hey, you philosophysing Hindu. Give me a break, Buddy. I was just pulling your leg. [...] I want the rest of the story. Really, I mean it.” Theson said nothing. [...] “I can see you’re...

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The Old grizzled Bear... was now keenly aware
    as he lay in his Cave all alone.
Where his time as King... was a mere passing thing
    and must choose another...

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I met a proper woman in a proper pub on a Monday in Peoria. It was noon, time for lunch, and we were sitting stool to stool over very large burgers at a long mahogany...

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This is a tale of one of the orneriest dudes there ever was, and how someone much smaller, but easily more clever than he was, managed to cope with his belligerence.  

  ...

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It was September 
Of one thousand 
Nine hundred seven
The end of summer
With apples lying thickly
Under the apple trees
And the smell of Autumn
Covering the grass
Filled with ripe yellow
And orange squash
He was born in a little
Wooden house...

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Piles of poetry yet to come falling in the fingers of the readers
Scroll through my lines as much as your heart and mind eagers
Remorse and anguish is what I feed on when I sin senselessly
Did...

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Feel more than free to take a quick tour into my mind's eye
Then, you'll find that you're on my mind and I don't know why 

Dare to wonder Where to wander
Dare to wonder What I...

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