Long Mists Poems

An icy chill descends on 13 Beaver Veil Cottage as sisters Ester and Ellie walk gingerly up the steps on this wet and windy night.
This once charming pied-a-terre was now in a final phase denouement.
The...

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n icy chill descends on 13 Beaver Veil Cottage as sisters Ester and Ellie walk gingerly up the steps on this wet and windy night.
This once charming pied-a-terre was now in a final phase denouement.
The...

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Poems about Fathers and Grandfathers I

I translated the first six Native American poems for my father when he chose to enter hospice and end his life by not taking dialysis …


Cherokee Travelers' Blessing I
loose translation/interpretation...

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Today, catching sight of the mallards
crying over Lake Iware:
Must I too vanish into the clouds?
—Prince Otsu translation by Michael R. Burch  

This world—
to what may we compare it?
To autumn fields
lying darkening at dusk
illuminated by...

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Poems about Children III

Miracle
by Michael R. Burch

for Jeremy

The contrails of galaxies mingle, and the dust of that first day still shines.
Before I conceived you, before your heart beat, you were mine,

and I see

infinity leap in...

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I.
Treasures That May Be Found In Destiny's New Shift

( Mille viri sententia agere nescit donec suscipit calamum scribere.)

For a brief spell, I hung my hammock in the shade
of the ancient tall oak tree, that God's...

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I heard two distinct voices in the night,
Conversing amongst themselves most eagerly
They whispered like children in excitement
Their sardonic mouths sung many savvy tunes
It was Death I could perceive, defending me,
And he, a strange, distant friend
Seemed...

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Thanksgiving, 1971,
a parachute pilgrim approaches Northwest Flight 305
as Dan Cooper, anonymous businessman,  anarchist airborne, 
black suit, black sunglasses, a black tie
and a black briefcase broaching black motives,
Portland to Seattle, prison or criminal pantheon, 
before...

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Wovoka in the Feverland

In the Dying-Grass Moon came another winter to claim the old and sick.
This was when the first messengers came
To the desolation known as Pine Ridge.
They came riding in at the end of...

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* For J.K. Rowling *

                 ~ 

now, deliberate your hearing
     to bring back the pages...

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When days of old
                               ...

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This foggy sky
darkly and relentlessly rains
especially for an early May morning.

He is not prepared for darkness
seeping through new-born leaves,
not yet full grown into this year's trunk-lacing dress,
soaking up from saturated soil,
slurping into his compassionately 
empathic...

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PRELUDE.
When the sky and world are dark no sounds are heard in the woods. Perhaps the scrabbling of night creatures on the hunt fo food. But no sound of woodpeckers ra ta tatting, bird song...

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Lost In the Mists Parts I - IV

                           ...

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Sun and traffic - day economy.
Six a.m. drive to plywood mill. Too tired
to be angry. Each day a step
toward death. What is being accomplished? The
small satisfactions
within each day. Book consciously read.
And frustrations. Package dropped, honey...

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Three Tribute poems--  composed by me,

For Longfellow blog….

(1.)

Glory Of Faith's Triumphant Golden Crowns



The rays of morn took their first golden breath

Dispersing powers of night's darkling mists

First gleams romancing sweet the earthen shores

Beating back dark...

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The scenery was magnificent, and the morning was slightly hot,
Our land cruiser was windowless, and sitting in a lovely spot.

The giraffes were splendid, and much bigger than I'd expected,
One could hardly gaze at the vast...

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Once upon a time,
an eight year old
Black and Green and Brown and Red and Blue Lives Matter
ultra-nonviolent kid
wrote an ultra-violet note to him/herself
about stuff s/he needed to full-rainbow recall
if and when s/he ever became
a worn...

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1.Remembrance

Remembrance of guilt from pages turned brown,
Opened and read inside rooms of my mind.
Written through time with tears sliding down.
I will claim each dung lit cavern I find.
My yesterdays speak of a poignant time.
Holding the...

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I gaze upon a moon so full and bright beneath my feet
The stillness of unbroken waters where reflections meet
The creaking and the straining as the old bridge wants me rid
Shall not give me cause to...

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baseball, bird, change, childhood, games, holiday, lost,

“Seasonal Walks in the Park!”

A walk in the park after a springtime morning rainfall 
Is to hear the droplets fall from bent branches overhead
That can shock and moisten one’s...

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The day, following their nuptials, was like most days.  The humans that had come to witness the Joining had all left early, thanking the elves for their hospitality and packing their carts with...

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 Diary Notes: Lament at Dawn A Year Ago and yet now No Change
				                     ...

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Clutching the moment 
Before yesterday became yesterday,
The promise,
Before he pledged his love to me,
The colors,
Before autumn waltzed away, 
Swaying in shadows of soft snowfall,
Breathing white, plunging into the thought,
A blizzard erasing the gentle flames,
Sheltered by...

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MEMORIES OF WAR 


In prison we turmoiled 
packed up cards to fall 
whilst they sucked 
genitals like bonbons 
a quartz on a table
gleamed its knowing

War torn ghettos with 
swollen stomachs 
stretched wide, auras 
shattered, splintered...

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