Long Paramour Poems

Villanelles

The villanelle is a poetic form based on repetition, with a double refrain. 



Villanelle: The Divide
by Michael R. Burch

The sea was not salt the first tide...
was man born to sorrow that first day, 
with the...

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Still wrestling with impasse to contentment

Dispense sing with fidelity blithely agog
just me and mine dark shadow 
slinking along outer limits of 
the edge of night doth blog
passivity, the path 
of least resistance ohm my dog,
shocking...

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LOVE POEMS II

These are love poems by Michael R. Burch: original poems and translations about passion, desire, lust, sex, dating and marriage. On an amusing note, my steamy Baudelaire translations have become popular with the...

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Wrestling with impasse to contentment

Dispense sing with fidelity blithely agog
just me and mine dark shadow 
slinking along the edge of night doth blog
passivity, the path of least resistance ohm my dog,
shocking voltage surges an emphatic...

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Introduction: once again I incorporate 
my trademark penchant 
to fabricate fictitiously
portions of the following poetic endeavor
can you care to 
discern fact from fiction?

Attempts at lifelong friendships and holy matrimony...

Shot thru with figuratively cankerous nub,
cuz yours...

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Bad ass beauty brought bedlam, and begat bastard child...
courtesy booty call minus preemptive measures
while plugg naughty bits of tarnished knight 
while he took tea and crumpets within mistress's boudoir

The following verses typed out some years...

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Temporal incarnation of Aphrodite...

induces idyllic reverie
delight evoking similar surge,
when skirting, and eluding 
fidelity defining the marital law
on par with courting in flagrante delicto.

After reading about 
Greek goddess of love
fancy notion woke whereof
warmth suffused me
snug as...

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Ah...Satisfactorily Succumbing Into Salubrious Sleep

Aye sandman, I surrender to yar supreme governance
surreal spectacular soiree gifts subconscious sphere
soothing (analogous to natural palliative), ah...REM
member nought, asper exquisite entertaining cerebral
kaleidoscope replete with nonpareil visual trappings

aesthetically tantalizing unforgettable..., but...

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Impossible mission to sleep on opposite side of marital bed...

Oddly enough even 
when frolicking in the autumn mist
with seasoned super tramping 
cheaply tricked out goo goo dolls
some resembling Indigo Girls,
one foo fighting beastie boy
unable to...

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Bedlam and mayhem in the mistress's boudoir

Nsync with variations on a theme:
of drool worthy Reuben Sandwich
(consisting of corned beef, 
Swiss cheese, sauerkraut, 
Russian dressing between slices 
of rye bread that is grilled 
until the bread...

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Ah... tis nothing greater than...

malfunctioning heater 
on that brisk winter day
recorded here as proof positive
regarding following reasonable rhyme.

While scrolling thru 
poems crafted yesteryear,
I chanced to jog my memory where
there
occurred power outage necessitated 
more than divine...

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These are poems about Ann Rutledge and her romantic relationship with Abraham Lincoln. 

Winter Thoughts of Ann Rutledge
by Michael R. Burch

Winter was not easy,
nor would the spring return.
I knew you by your absence,
as men are...

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UNQUOTABLE QUOTES: XLVII - Tongue Twisters

If you want to « have » your cake and « eat » it at one and the same time, simple enough, just split it into two equal parts like...

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Beddie bye boo ski time for yours truly and/or the missus

Found us abed thee twelfth day
of December, cuz yours truly 
still felt dehydration, physical 
fatigue and soreness,
which possibly linkedin
to using stationary bicycle.

Our bed (mine and...

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An anticlimactic sexual event...

with Barb Black née Beebee
to help set the ghost
of little Willy Brandt free
(a non German, but germane fellow  
courtesy Craigslist classified
personals of mine invitee
she replied, I took liberty
to Google her first...

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Loving my refurbished fifteen inch mid 2015 Macbook Pro

A lightning fast machine
purchased three days ago
now comfortably nestling with
said technological wonder,
where outside a cold wind howls
measuring windchill factor of five below
allowing, enabling and providing me
an opportunity...

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April 5, 2023 – refracted reflections:

The following lines
haphazardly linkedin 
slap dash fashion
over the course 
of dazed and confused days,
therefore desist reading 
any profound meaning
if you dear reader dare expend 
energy and time perusing 
meandering gibberish....

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This December 17th, 2024...

alternately titled: a literary retrospective when holiday times living hand to mouth in Penn Valley fraught with slim pickings and yours truly felt utterly miserable that nary a delivery from Santa Claus...

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*
The heart may fall in love unwillfully
so, in a script will lie my paramour.
Oh manic quest, I've sworn to set you free
to let the ink's imagination soar.
I’ve found a place to court a writer’s muse;
this...

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Happy 68th birthday MaryAnn Sage - revisited January 12th, 2021

Wherever you might be holed up
within this whirled wide web wassup?

Mein kampf still equals board
hardscrabble existence deplored
analogous to Norwegian bachelor,
whose Lake Wobegon nestled within fjord
forcing me...

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I (Samson wannabe) feel aghast at latest turn of events regarding Gaza

Omnipresent grief and horror
abounds toward ceaseless killing fields
impossible mission for me
to summon forth fading magic powers
since Delilah imposter hashtagged,
(and subsequently outed) 
as a mortal...

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This December 17th, 2021...

Totally tubular fiction yup,
nevertheless I reflect 
the year (arbitrarily plucked from misty past)
Santa Claus did not show up
courtesy imagination license
cruel as crippled poet pan handler 
rattling his empty cup.

Though blink of time...

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I knelt amidst the mountain's rise
        beneath the weeping opal skies
            there to measure Io's swoon
 ...

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Le Balcon (The Balcony)
Charles Baudelaire
trans. Michael R. Burch

Paramour of memory, ultimate mistress,
source of all pleasure, my only desire;
how can I forget your ecstatic caresses,
the warmth of your breasts by the roaring fire,
paramour of memory, ultimate...

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"Cantus Troili" from "Troilus and Criseyde"
by Petrarch
translation by Geoffrey Chaucer
modernization by Michael R. Burch

If there’s no love, O God, why then, so low?
And if love is, what thing, and which, is he?
If love is good,...

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