Long Paused Poems

How unparticular the day had particularly been,

On March the third of two-thousand and eighteen,

For the caretaker at an historic Adirondack Inn,

Had lacked company, and therefore, dopamine.

 

‘Twas Sunday when all the guests had fled,

From either...

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I listened to his heart profusely, 
For a beat like his was much to ponder
I often wondered, his thoughts, and,
A light in me knew, with wretched wonderment
What the whispers in his mutterings meant to me

They...

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Moon sprites dotted the sky like lilies at dawn
    in a ballet meant to cause nocturnal delight.
While Fairies and Pixie Dust covered the lawn
    in a dance that would...

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The pencil now resting the image was 'testing' for the creature before him, (his badly-drawn drawin') had come out 'not right' somewhat twisted and tight.

The picture in question, it burst with suggestion, for lines that...

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Once upon a time, there were two little villages, Rowling and Tolkien, that lived in peace with each other.  Rowling and Tolkien had many, many children, some very young, others young, and a few...

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This is one excited kid and one PROUD father...



I took my son to the lumberyard last Tuesday afternoon. The day itself, though toasty, was the best in quite some time.
And when we’d finished shopping -...

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My wife and I met more than a few of this type of “shifty wheeler-dealer” during our many years dealing in antiques and collectibles.

           ...

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I met a proper woman in a proper pub on a Monday in Peoria. It was noon, time for lunch, and we were sitting stool to stool over very large burgers at a long mahogany...

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NOTE: THIS IS ONLY THE 1st half of this piece-- its 2nd half is posted separately due to Poetry Soup's poem-lengths-limitation. Be sure to check out the balance of this poem = "Tiny Town Events"...

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Part 2.

Come on in, the phone is on the wall there. I’ll go and change. You’re on the Massey farm. Do you want a bite to eat with your coffee?

Yeah, thanks. Genecia looked around, the...

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These are prophetic poems and apocalyptic poems ...



The Vision of the Overseer’s Right Hand
by Michael R. Burch

“Dust to dust ...”

I stumbled, aghast,
into a valley of dust and bone
where all men become,
at last, the same color...

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"How ya' doin''" the youngster asked...a girl I'd never seen..."you're lookin' pretty good for a guy your age."
"I'm on the 'final chapter'," I surprised her, "of my life"...and not that long before my final page!"

She...

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Film Noir

By the lampost at night
with the pale moon shining bright
but obscured by the fog
I saw her in the harbor
standing where my boat lay moored
but she knew that
her azure eyes beckoned me to come
smoke from...

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On Fam’ly Traditions - 2nd third -
 


“Might as well grab us some food an' some beer...some ice...and some bundles o' wood, an' prob'ly some charcoal....there ain't nothin' better than walleye from right off a...

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Thus it begins—
A free-verse epic
Into the mind of
A writer and an idiot—
A romantic and, 
Often a pessimist
Conjoined in arbitrary glory
Are the thoughts and words 
Of one overly-worked mind—
Charismatic and, of course,
On the pushover, pitiful
And usually...

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                             I dreamed I went to heaven,

...

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[Continued from ‘Terror Bugs: Part 2 - A Freezer Mice Adventure’]
__________

London’s streets resembled an al fresco mausoleum 
They tracked a trail of body parts which led to a museum
A thousand Terror Bugs were massed, in...

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Was this a bold  endeavour or worst-case high risk plot?
 In one sense I was caught between two poles apart  concerns.
One must never underestimate indeed trivialise a devilish 
difficult decision.
A decision that may...

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My Daughter

My beautiful Daughter, walks life’s paths alone,
She does so, by design – not of hers – on her own.
She travels heavily !, from place to empty space,
from space to vacant place – in what...

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Film Noir

By the lamppost at night
with the pale moon shining bright
but obscured by the fog
I saw her in the harbor
standing where my boat lay moored
but she knew that
her azure eyes beckoned me to come
smoke from...

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Every day, ‘round 8 am, I climb up from the subway and pass a guy - a blind guy -  who is there to beg for change.
But one day, as I paused to watch...

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Stood I there, that last day,
On an iron bridge...
An aqueduct by design,
Where, looking dreamily out over
The Ernes Lower Lough,
My compressed shadow 
Momentarily paused -
To contently recline:
Amidst coy Junes radiant beams 
of sweet benign!
All was stilled,...

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Justin Von Depathos strode across the ballroom floor 
To sit with Carlton Vishizwa and Charlotte Genivieve, 
While I watched, in silent fascination, from the door,
The “major players” waltzing ‘round the room that Friday eve.

Thurston Beaumont...

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Thirty years ago, long before ISIS started executing Kurds, Muslims and Christians, I hired a Pakistani Muslim as an art director in Chicago. I was an Irish Catholic editor putting out a small national magazine....

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Swept up into piles; everywhere 
Abouts; in collected heaps all 
Around.               
It is almost as if the drab 
Streets were strewn...

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