Long Pales Poems

Poems about Poems (I)



What the Poet Sees
by Michael R. Burch

What the poet sees,
he sees as a swimmer
~~~underwater~~~
watching the shoreline blur
sees through his breath’s weightless bubbles...
Both worlds grow obscure.



Muse/Goddess
by Michael R. Burch

“What will you conceive in...

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Poems about Butterflies and Bees



Flight
by Michael R. Burch

It is the nature of loveliness to vanish
as butterfly wings, batting against nothingness
seek transcendence...



Album
by Michael R. Burch

I caress them—trapped in brittle cellophane—
and I see how young they were,...

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The Making of a Poet
by Michael R. Burch

While I don’t consider “Poetry” to be my best poem—I wrote the first version in my teens—it’s a poem that holds special meaning for me; I call it...

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State of the Art (II)

These are my "ars poetica" poems about the art and craft of writing poetry. 



What the Poet Sees
by Michael R. Burch

What the poet sees,
he sees as a swimmer 
~~~~underwater~~~~
watching the shoreline...

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Observance
by Michael R. Burch

Here the hills are old and rolling
carefully in their old age;
on the horizon youthful mountains
bathe themselves in windblown fountains...

By dying leaves and falling raindrops,
I have traced time's starts and stops,
and I have...

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It is so hard to let go of love,
lovingly.

It sharks, 
unpeels more gut more quickly
than reel or reeler ever lost
in all those years of lazy inches
in and out:
casting,
winding in and playing out,
hardly fishing, rarely catching
anything
from...

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                        Expectations high did not pan out,     ...

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Is there room to care for the penultimate?
Can't decide if the space can satisfy two collard greens.  
One oblivious cabbage... one who has desperately tried to expand the space, to save the others, who...

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@one must have lived
on both' sides of
justice to be fully
exposed...gf


There are so many
     languages'
There are oh! So
many plans'
But, in this day of
confusion..
Can it really
stand....
     ------
Their are those...

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I.

Oh please, not to fade so fast into the afternoon
The one that is scattering in a goldenly swooning loneliness
The one that is shattering at a purply time of faintness
And the one whose wind is playing...

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To this point, I have been; my present being grows out of my yesterday; and I am in a constant state of ever becoming, ever realizing that I am not the master of my fate,...

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Trompe L'oeil
I use to be so sure of my colors
But now my vision is jaded
Perhaps it is obscured
from the THOUSANDS of tears I've shed

I taught you
the primary colors, RED, YELLOW, and BLUE
The shades of red...

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The noblemen control the pen, indeed they own the farm,
but nonetheless exude finesse (and need I mention charm?)
with revenue to sate the few, exulting arm in arm;
for all the rest, they wish the best and...

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The summer sun was high. The heat was oppressive.
The whalebone corset dug into the body's tender parts.
Peering from the shop, my hand touching the pane
of dearly brought glass, I feel the vibration of the incoming...

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All I have I Give

what do you say to a man that doesn't want to live, what do you say when what he needs you don't have to give. 
What do you say to a...

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Annotations of mis-co-ordinations of the latest military drone strike 
The fear when the children of Ukraine hear bomb raid sirens into the night 
What’s near when all that you can contain is silenced by your...

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Surrounded by hate and negativity
This world is cruel only because they shape it to be
No one ever said life would be a breeze
I must kill my monster
I MUST KILL THESE MONSTERS IN MY LIFE

They fill...

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If I was ever to be blessed 
With the gift of an only child
And I was given the option 
To choose the sex also too
I would choose to have a baby girl

I know a Father...

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Gordon Robertson of CBN's 700 Club posed a rhetorical question. "Does stuff like this really belong in a free country? The answer to his question is no of course. What do liberal and conservation parents...

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The grey clouds roll in from the southeast
like a cumbersome beast
a thick pewter fog smothering all
a hollow silence
menacing but devoid of violence.

Face pales with blood draining
ears straining

The mass hovers almost low enough to touch
I reach...

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The summer sun was high. The heat was oppressive.
A whalebone corset dug into my body's tender parts.
Peering from the shop, my hand touches the pane
of dearly brought glass it vibrates with the hoof-beat of riders.
The...

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Translation of Marcel Moreau's " Je t'écris " by T. Wignesan

I WRITE TO YOU

I choose green ink to write to you
For Love does not prescribe any one hue
In the hope you might take shape
When desire...

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40th Marathon For 70 Year Old

Almost in disbelief, I reread the headline of this one particular online piece of news….
A 72-year-old Retiree Just Ran His 40th New York Marathon, screams the title of this news…

Reading...

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I. Theory

She is dark and her darkness frightens you. But as closer you come to her, the lighter the darkness becomes. How bright the light were, if a thousand suns would rise in the sky...

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To the authorities, your hands may be clean...yet to those who matter most...to those
looking up at you now with welled up eyes, your hands drip reddish black with my
blood...the children catch a glimpse of your...

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