Long Hearthside Poems

State of the Art (IV)

These are my "ars poetica" poems about the art and craft of writing poetry. 



Hearthside
by Michael R. Burch

“When you are old and grey and full of sleep...”  — W. ...

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To a Daughter More Precious than Gems
by Otomo no Sakanoue no Iratsume
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Heaven's cold dew has fallen—
and thus another season arrives.
Oh, my child living so far away,
do you pine for me...

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The Raven and the Bard
-Daniel Henry Rodgers

The Raven's quill drips shades of blackest night,
Its haunting words, a melody of fright.
The Bard's natural lines, like "Evangeline's" fair hair,
Shed history's warm light to chase away all care...

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A CHILD’S CHRISTMAS EVE

A child’s in thought by a cozy fire
His dog stretched out at hearthside
Big sister and a friend fun-gone
On a frosty    snowy sleigh ride

His kitty    Miss Boots...

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Hearthside: an Imagined Sequel to "When You Are Old"
by Michael R. Burch

“When you are old and grey and full of sleep...” ? W. B. Yeats

For all that we professed of love, we knew
this night would...

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Sweet-scented  lupins , foxgloves , violas ,  giant lillies ,damasks ,
mosses and china roses rich in a variety of perfumes and colours 
Circular herb beds, rare , exotic climbers on the Elizabethan wall.
Overhanging...

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and then dew drops’ magic enveloped me in mist of fine doubt

gave me an idea of what it meant not to have the foggiest haze

of why and how I had been feeling so miserably blindfolded...

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I can think of no better contentment that can be had,
Lounging in my robe and slippers comfortably clad,
Than relaxing by the hearth in my favorite chair,
Gazing at the dancing flames, ah, nothing can compare!

A winter...

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It’s not for the mere frail 
this cautionary tale 
of wicked yuletide fright 
Do come inside
and sit hearthside
on this dark and snowy night 

A chilling yarn from long before 
in the glorious days of yore...

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It seems old age has filtered in
without so much as fanfare--
rapacious, unforgiving, feeding
on my body everywhere
like those precocious maggots
standing by in ignorance,
their bit of consciousness
still unapprised of my arrangement
with the crematory down the road.
Ah, ...

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Morning dawns with a touch of a chill
Touching naked feet with a thrill
Open the blinds and look outside
Realizing you might stay at the hearthside

Shimmering snowflakes fall to the earth
Whispering glimpses of angel’s birth
Reminding the heart...

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Zeppelin flies
To linen azure blue skies
But otherworldly it is prize
Looking like a blimp it is only a disguise

Beyond master of purple in air it soars brilliant
Master of purple being fifth element 
With evolution with evolutions’...

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To all who in life wander to and fro
If you just stand still and listen, Lo!
You will hear the whispers of the wind
Over the cornfields as it sweeps low.

Look up in the sky at the...

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Stone clad hotels and banks,
stone-faced facades.
Stone monuments carved by old money.

The stone-poor have no stone history,
they will leave no archeology
to be excavated and raised.
Their throw-away artifacts
go to the landfills,
If they have stone. it must be...

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Was it at the close of wakeful light 
  Rough cutting field and town, 
  The dark blade-cleaving deep, 
  Eyebrow sharp and scything down, 
  The landscape hacked to sleep....

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