Long Hues Poems

Flint 
Within its brilliance gleaming
Cool black in lacquered polished silver chrome
Cranked up pistons bleached in summer’s heat
Hot steam rising as gears thundering
Beyond the crystal liquid city lights
Highways built across the land
In hearts felt pride American...

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“Forever”



When The Terrors came,
The Uncontrollable Ones,
she closed her eyes
and listened for the notes
her mother had planted
amongst the deep blues,
beds of Forget-Me-Nots,
she followed the 
labyrinthine trail 
and through a gate unhinged,
it would seem destroyed, thrown aside,
she...

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"The Sleeper and The Supernaturalist"


The Sleeper
shone as she walked 
through the Woods

shining alive 
like nothing
natural could

caught 
in the moonlight 
unaware

the innocent
red-caped roses stared
the trees whispered,

"beware, beware"

barefoot softly 
the Supernaturalist 
transfigures instead

from under shine 
she bares...

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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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Medieval Poem V

A Proverb from Winfred's Time
anonymous Old English poem, circa 757-786
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

1.
The procrastinator puts off purpose,
never initiates anything marvelous,
never succeeds, and dies alone.

2.
The late-deed-doer delays glory-striving,
never indulges daring dreams,
never succeeds,...

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Winter Awakens My Care
anonymous Middle English poem, circa 1300
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Winter awakens all my care
as leafless trees grow bare.
For now my sighs are fraught
whenever it enters my thought:
regarding this world's joy,
how everything...

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Pain settles in quite instantly your senses 
are totally unprepared for this graveness
the notion to sleep sets in like an energetic 
twilight phase the injury abruptly strangles 
thought my ears are always ringing with this...

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One day not so long ago 
I walked
Never alone
For the world 
Is always my home

It was a late
Spring snow
Yet I felt
Invisible red roses
Offering sweetest perfume
To my nose and soul

There’s such warmth 
In snow-filled winter
No bitterness
No...

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(continued from A Year Of Months (January-June)
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/heroic_crown_of_sonnets_-_part_one_772928


A Year Of Months (July-December)

8. July

July now follows summer's song of June;
with sun ablaze, her days are humid, warm.
Great time to languish in the afternoon,
and later, watch an evening...

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Translations of the Oldest English Rhyming Poems

The Rhymed Poem aka The Rhyming Poem aka The Riming Poem
Old English/Anglo-Saxon poem from the Exeter Book, circa 990 AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

(excerpt)
He who granted me life...

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From the window of my chic city office, lost in thought, I gaze out.
The pedestrians scurry like frenzied ants below, caught up in their bustling state of holiday insanity.
In his haste to cross the street...

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A born lioness my untamed heart? ha! 
a mouse, this pulsing token ruled by unruly wants
at times given, traded or stolen - sometimes
thrown down on a dare to be won or lost 
till it became...

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I am an Outlander
Who lives on a high hill
Overlooking a man-made lake
That once was a rapidly rushing river
Along whose banks the Ozarks Bluff Dwellers and the Osage and then Delaware
Hunted, fished, and created shelter
For their...

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   Symbols cry in dry ice theater -
the expanse of aesthetic visa-
drawn-
from the romance of the silvery eye -
as it golden advances the lid of covenance 
in dynamic enzyme.
Open faced type interpreted-
interpreter-embossed embol-
in...

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February 27th, 2018 literary tinkering rejiggered October 11th, 2024

I believed fortune cookie maxim 
cryptic message couched
Apple Macbook Pro update process
alternately titled “markedly 
a Luke warm welcome Matt unfurled
courtesy Jimmy John,
who embarked on 
imp apostle bull...

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Old Glory has Something He Wants to Say  
By – Roger White
The dawn’s first sunlight crests over the eastern horizon.  A midnight dark sky leisurely changes tinctures: blue becomes purple, bright azure and...

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"I am a painter and my eyes are the paint brushes I had if I look up with my open eye I see the Horizon I see the clouds to be continued
Oh shutter as I...

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HEROES

Near somber guards, units of children heap 
dead leaves, naive to any else fallen.
Friend, you chuckle, but your posture speaks
of duty on this day of contradictions.

Firefighters bow heads in silent paean, 
while polished trucks stand...

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Mission Control, this is Flight Z924693744, do you read?
We're having some technical trouble. How should we proceed?

We have spotted a planet, that appears to be suitable to abort;
But, to return to earth, we will need...

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Poem One: Inspired by my reading of -Lady Labyrinth's---magnificent

poem ,  "Courting the Sublime Significance of Nothingness"

 (1.)  Poem One

Seeking The Boundaries Of Love's Depths And Her Hand

The air, its surging breath sings

into the...

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Note:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Percy_Bysshe_Shelley
Percy Bysshe Shelley,  Born 4 August 1792
Horsham, Sussex, England[1]
Died , 8 July 1822 (aged 29)
Gulf of La Spezia, Kingdom of Sardinia (now Italy)
Occupation	Poet, dramatist, essayist, novelist
Alma mater	University College, Oxford (no degree)
Literary movement	Romanticism
Spouse	Harriet Westbrook
(m. 1811;...

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Each Zen ZeroSoul
invites a sacredly unique understoried purpose,
enthymematic matriotic meaning
through nurturing Health-Wealth Consciousness.

ZenSoul identity
heroic voice
shadow sacred
yin-suppressed
among LeftBrain Dominant
adolescent RedStates,
monocultural extraction planners.

Red or Blue
and Green 
between
depths of social Turquoise personality
for outdoor aquatic conversations,
ebbs and flows,
eggs and...

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The Rhymed Poem aka The Rhyming Poem and The Riming Poem
Old English Poem (i.e., Anglo-Saxon Poem) from the Exeter Book, ca. 990 AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

He who granted me life created this sun
and...

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The Rhymed Poem aka The Rhyming Poem and The Riming Poem - Part II
anonymous Old English Poem from the Exeter Book, circa 990 AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

He who granted me life created this...

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I once spent a week in the drunk tank
couldn't handle the spirits that I drank
the cuisine wasn't half bad
we even had a few laughs
but I had to guard my butt with a shank


……………………………………………………………………….


It used to...

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