Long Impotent Poems

Poems about Poems VI

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 Muse
with reprimands of Dr. Seuss.

The...

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History’s Greatest Miracle Play

Let me tell you a story - Prologue

Actors gather to play their parts
To set the stage – backdrops and props –
In history’s greatest miracle play
Called to speak their lines
On redemption’s stage
In a...

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Juvenilia: Early Poems VII

These are early poems I wrote as a boy and as a teenager.

The Leveler
by Michael R. Burch

The nature of Nature
is bitter survival
from Winter’s bleak fury
till Spring’s brief revival.

The weak implore Fate;
bold men...

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The Panther
by Rainer Maria Rilke
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

His weary vision's so overwhelmed by iron bars,
his exhausted eyes see only blank Oblivion.
His world is not our world. It has no stars.
No light. Ten thousand...

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My Daughter

My beautiful Daughter, walks life’s paths alone,
She does so, by design – not of hers – on her own.
She travels heavily !, from place to empty space,
from space to vacant place – in what...

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Moving on ???

I have come to wonder – as time passes – why ?,
the lady brings tears to my heart – makes me cry.
This lady who took in hand, in holy of holies, in mouth,
resurrecting...

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WE ARE BROTHERS


1.

Don’t look at me as though I am an alien or stranger,
Don’t let the dagger of antipathy fly out of your eyes,
           ...

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The early hours of a Wednesday morning in a small country town.
An 18-year-old boy struggles to sleep
He had pain so bad 
all he could do was weep 
he, knee was so painful
he had to go...

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2017 - year zero

They loaned to the poor, who cannot repay.
They stole from the old, who cannot recover.
They sold our future, for better or worse
and made our children pay.
They schooled arithmetic to be feared.
They tutored...

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Don’t look at me
As though I am an alien or a stranger,
Don’t let the dagger of antipathy
Fly out of your eyes.

I am your neighbor.

Don’t call me a foe, an antagonist, or a rival,
Don’t roll up...

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Present wedded bliss haint no touchstone...

Circa ~ late spring/ early summer 1978
twas at behest of Harriet Harris,
thus due credit mother dearest
(she long since passed away)
who tried, to bribe, coax, exhort...
(protracted effort not all in vain),
cuz...

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Don’t look at me
As though I am an alien or a stranger,
Don’t let the dagger of antipathy
Fly out of your eyes.

I am your neighbor.

Don’t call me a foe, an antagonist, or a rival,
Don’t roll up...

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Is this the price we pay for our right to have guns 
the blood of innocent souls lost to oblivion: a gentle violence

Forever a mental brute, a slow gentle violence 
of unforgivable action, wither insane...

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What is it to dwell in the realm of melancholy? Is it merely a cloak of desolation that we wear, or rather a wave of sorrow that engulfs us, rendering us incapable of envisioning a...

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Your devoted adoring Loving hands
Shields the abyss with trance
in utter bewilderment
As every hand is first an apprentice 
That slaves beneath The Temple Of LOVE
Your Loving hands have valor and daring
to weave my sorrow into a...

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I recall the day she journeyed to the delta from her village above the first cataphract with a New Kingdom attitude and an Old Kingdom strut, inspiring rumors to be passed from shadoof to shadoof...

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I woke up suddenly and leaned against the helpless wall
hoping that it would support my abounding weight but instead
I had to rely on the courage and faith that kept me alive over the years.
With sweat...

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Thru a paroxysm of tears...

I inconsolably wept a river of sorrow
starkly aware alienated daughter(s)
implacable woe sundered fatherhood
yesterday, today and tomorrow.

A series of unfortunate events
(move over Lemony Snicket)
set in motion since my birth
unleashed impotent scrawny infant
registering...

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Poems for Poets VIII


Fireflies
thinking to illuminate the darkness?
Poets!
—Michael R. Burch


BeMused
by Michael R. Burch

You will find in her hair
a fragrance more severe
than camphor.

You will find in her dress
no hint of a sweet
distractedness.

You will find in her...

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Early Poems XVI

The Beautiful People
by Michael R. Burch

They are the beautiful people,
and their shadows dance through the valleys of the moon
to the listless strains of an ancient tune.

Oh, no ... please don't touch them,
for their...

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‘Twas but a mist-enshrouded speckle
dark-painted on looming horizon.
Petty worker holds unwavering watch,
silently, stealthily keeps his eyes on.

Forward motion undeniable,
each passing minute size increasing.
Small heart stands alert and viable – 
beating fast and tremulous; though, never...

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She struggled frantically as she was yanked from the bed
Hauled into the street straight to the temple, no match for her rabble size
With bare foot struggling to find their footings
Hammered fear, cold deafeningly in her...

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One..
When everyone gets sorrow, everyone does not know to cry,
Some of the heart breaks like a glass piece!
But do not water the eyes!
The only God who knows how to mourn, how deep is the sorrow!
I'm...

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Silenced Voices


                                 ...

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The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims.


When hot lead tears the flesh of a 14 year old girl,

ripping through her skull,
leaving her to bleed out and die,

does Allah not recoil...

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