Long Outpost Poems

“Son”...”say goodnight to grandpa”

Spurred by mother dearest 
as well as other politesse
drummed into her second born
fobbing blandishments as incentive
tumbled off fingers of prodigal son
tripped wordsmith to splutter forth
forthwith the following lines.

Back in the day 
quaint...

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State of the Art (III)

These are my "ars poetica" poems: the ones about the art and craft of writing poetry in a modern world that doesn't always recognize the artists or their work. 



Come Down
by...

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Various Heresies 3

Breakings
by Michael R. Burch

I did it out of pity.
I did it out of love.
I did it not to break the heart of a tender, wounded dove.

But gods without compassion
ordained: Frail things must break!
Now...

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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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Snapshots
by Michael R. Burch

Here I scrawl extravagant rainbows.
And there you go, skipping your way to school.
And here we are, drifting apart
like untethered balloons.

Here I am, creating "art,"
chanting in shadows,
pale as the crinoline moon,
ignoring your face.

There...

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Sonnets XC-XCVII

Artificial Smile
by Michael R. Burch

I’m waiting for my artificial teeth
to stretch belief, to hollow out the cob
of zealous righteousness, to grasp life’s stub
between clenched molars, and yank out the grief.

Mine must be art-official?zenlike Art?
a...

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Poems about Poets VII

Gallant Knight
by Michael R. Burch

for Alfred Dorn and Anita Dorn

Till you rest with your beautiful Anita,
rouse yourself, Poet; rouse and write.
The world is not ready for your departure,
Gallant Knight.

Teach us to sing...

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We disagree
I want to breathe people
Feel a timeless, immortal pulse
My solitude is anonymous observation
Strolling in unnoticed contemplation through worlds stacked upon worlds
The Flâneuse
My sustenance is colorful variety
Diving into the expressionism of bizarre fringes
Taste testing any...

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From north, south, east and west 
This is the town to beat the rest,
Where history and present blend
As through its many streets you wend. 

Where once a monastery so great
From every view would dominate,
Where Pilgrims...

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War, Is Unholy Hell

War is wicked rot and most holy hell
 man's evil is its murdering spell
Yet mankind never ever truly learns
 love and faith it arrogantly spurns

Poetry by the great Siegfried Sassoon
 glows like...

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The Limerick, Pennsylvania Nuclear power plant siren wailed

yesterday at 1400 hours December the fourth
and probably broadcast further
east, west, south and north.

That shrill ear-piercing
emitted sound quite painful
despite measurable diminution
regarding my audiological ability,
which loss of hearing
linkedin to...

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This nonestablishmentarian (Iman) kant riff!
Otherwise titled as: Thanksgiving
nothing more'n gobbledygook 
we stuff ourselves with.

Mine suburban outpost 
approximately thirty seven plus miles
southeast of where liberty bell marks
history upon cobblestone streets 
where sounds of silence 
from walking...

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PROFESSOR POETS

These are poems about professor poets and other “intellectuals” who miss the main point of poetry, which is to connect with readers via pleasing sounds and the communication of emotion as well as meaning.



Professor...

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...It also left their powder pretty wet,
but their was something command had foreseen,
and they brought extra artillery guns,
less vulnerable to the moisture’s sheen.

Washington hoped they’d make it by midnight,
but they weather slowed down the whole...

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Track Through The Desert
                         
The place is Arabia in the early...

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Young Ned was only sixteen years old when
they called for the militia to come again,
having warred with the French for three years now,
and raids had terrified the frontier towns.

But Britain needed men to hold the...

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Then the guns roared!! and it was hard to distinguish the 
Hush from the roaring; the two seemed almost 
Indistinguishable. 
Was it the roaring, I wondered, or was it the hush that was 
The more...

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Nuit magique (Awesome Night)
Catherine Lara

(A lilting catchy French tune with a " barbed " message addressed to oneself or to any damsel in distress. Free translation by T. Wignesan)

Okay
Il n'y avait rien à faire (One...

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My dearest Claudia, 

     For eighteen months, I've been at this Jerusalem outpost.
     "Tis you and young Julius that I miss the most.
    ...

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Written: June 25, 2023

______________________________________________________________

We evolved toward the Zenith Ringers.
While no daylight is expected, I am thrilled.
With Banana Cakes, Cheez Whiz, and Zingers.
At Family Dollar's end, our hearts are tilled.

Maybe with Viagra or Valium to help...

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Seraphic faces, shapes slicked in rubber,
With Iron Lungs strapped to their back,
Terra Firma’s tether, now growing slack,
Frog footed adventurers adrift in space,
As they slip from this world’s iron bonds, 
Down the sapphire glide, of the...

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At first light, I awoke feeling revive and lively swell
Yet no words am to describe what I’m to foretell
I knew you were alive from words of my overseer
And ceaselessly I seek to be reunited with...

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His Limbo Soliloquy                                ...

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His Limbo Soliloquy                                ...

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I am trying to relate to the strategy of rhyme,
Using words to titillate from the droll to the sublime.
Do I write "a rime that scintillates" to describe a ghost
Of frost? I consult the information highway...

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