Long Laud Poems

Epigrams by Michael R. Burch

If brevity is the soul of wit
then brevity and levity 
are the whole of it.
—Michael R. Burch

To write an epigram, cram.
If you lack wit, scram!
—Michael R. Burch

Conformists of a feather
flock together.
—Michael...

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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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Epigrams

Autumn Conundrum
by Michael R. Burch

It’s not that every leaf must finally fall,
it’s just that we can never catch them all.

Piercing the Shell
by Michael R. Burch

If we strip away all the accouterments of war,
perhaps we'll discover...

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Medieval Poems IV



IN LIBRARIOS
by Thomas Campion
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Booksellers laud authors for novel editions
as pimps praise their whores for exotic positions.



Brut (circa 1100 AD, written by Layamon, an excerpt)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R....

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The day was going off, and the brown air
To the terrestrial animals gave rest
For their labors; and only me was there

Just ready to withstand the war at best
Both of the journey and of the torment,
Which...

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TITLE:
       Xenophobia

Heed the warning
This isn't for the faint of heart
Verbalizing my deepest yearnings 
They're bound to be a bit tart...

Because where I'm from is called the Bible Belt
Where folks...

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“Through me you enter the city of woe
Trough me you enter the eternal pain
Through me you go to people lost below.

Justice inspired my highest factor reign;
I was created by act of divine,
Supreme wisdom and the...

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The last time you felt good, you played along with them, and they were fooled
The feeling inside was blue and you always considered the suicide rendezvous
It’s when you can’t laugh or cry, and feel it’s...

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Fourth canto (first part)

The deep slumber was broken in my head
By a strong thunder, so that I woke up
As person forced to arouse from bed;

My rested eye I moved around then deep,
Erect uprisen, and also...

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By Stanley Collymore

Never speak ill of the dead we’re constantly and solemnly
exhorted regardless of who they are or the life that
they freely chose to live, as they’re no longer
around, is the lame and unconvincing excuse
that’s...

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Man: 		woman do not with me begin this morning,
Don’t want to go through the day with mourning.
Look I’ve got enough woes on my desk and shoulder
So I don’t need words that sting like adder.
Your mates,...

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Me: "Bing, the intended rhyme scheme for the poem below is ABABAB; and I made additional changes in line 9 of the poem in order to improve its meter and make more vivid and clarify...

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I cannot focus on the focal point to equivocal, the pain in my memory, to memorial site. The night smells gunpowder in the middle galaxy to summon the smart, south to Saturn where I rest...

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In a Stolen Moment
by Michael R. Burch

In a stolen moment,
when the clock’s hands complete their inevitable course
and sleep is the night’s dark spell,
I call it a curse,

seeking the force,
the font of candescent words, the electric...

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I was a creative choreographer, for superb Broadway musicals and plays,
As musical winds choreograph motions, throughout any of our rosy days.

I lived for charms of elegant dance, for its beauty will forever be with us,
As...

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Cowpoke
by Michael R. Burch, circa age 16

Sleep, old man...
your day has long since passed.
The endless plains,
cool midnight rains
and changeless ragged cows
alone remain
of what once was.

You cannot know
just how the Change
will rape the windswept plains
that you...

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LIGHT VERSE AND NONSENSE VERSE V

Less Heroic Couplets: Word to the Unwise
by Michael R. Burch

I wanted to be good as gold,
but being good, as I’ve been told,
requires something, discipline,
I simply have no interest in!



Villanelle of...

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Trump Poems and Epigrams VI

Poets laud Justice’s
high principles.
Trump just gropes
her raw genitals.
—Michael R. Burch



Dark Shroud, Silver Lining
by Michael R. Burch

Trump cares so little for the silly pests
who rise to swarm his rallies that he jests:
“The...

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I stopped to stool siphon sip on a cool blue 
circumstance in the means between the in 
times loath listening to complacent
poetic prostitutional practice of stir my friends 
ego echoes doing the same f. u....

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Joy cannot be raised as though it ride the back of a song.
It is a gift and for that we should laud the giver with praise.
The heart races into overdrive as the mind fills with...

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When we pleasantly stroll down
the streets or boulevards
of any historical city or town,
we  stops pensively and reflect deeply
by the magnificent monuments erected for the great;
and reading the engraved words,
we are astonished by the accomplishments
of...

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“ the problem with Equality is that we desire it only with our superiors”


“Equal were all and happy they all were,
Deceits and falsehoods were unheard of there,
Free from all illness, cares and infant deaths
No one...

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THE KNIGHT IN THE PANTHER’S SKIN

Shota Rustaveli (c. 1160-1250), often called simply Rustaveli, was a Georgian poet who is generally considered to be the preeminent poet of the Georgian Golden Age. “The Knight in the...

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A little piece I wrote for Flips Funeral
 There is an interlude to the beginning
 But the present has now passed
 As I record this passage
 Of a hero to the last
 So I beat...

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A song of love to all ALBINOS, a song I will sing till my last day.

Let every lung help out in singing 
Let every mouth breath the song I air
Let everyone blessed with muscles flex
For...

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