Long Poppy Poems

"As other spirits sail on music, mine, oh my love, swim on your perfume." Charles Baudelaire

"Sometimes you find an old bottle from which the soul returns." 
Charles Baudelaire

"Smell is a Word. Perfume is Literature."

"There are...

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_ a symphonic, folk rock, blues song
1.
I'm an old man looking
For the lost, best parts of me.
I'm an old man looking
For the lost, best parts of me.
I'm looking in the places
Where the people say love...

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Embrace The Lines

Vitality marks gently stretch your soft skin beyond the wildest dreams of
beauty unbound where children had once or thrice embraced your womb
the soothing waters cushioning and cradling three miracles three water 
marks engraved...

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O’ my dearest love,  
I gather the world’s rarest petals for you—  
Ghost Orchid fragrance lingers  
in the marsh’s quiet air  

look, love, it fades  
then rises in  
the...

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In the May-time of my life
time bloomed each day a prickly boll –
but I, like the softest cotton within such a sharp seed  
swaddled in the purity of security 
for what seemed like eternity...

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The blue sky with its bright light is moving over my head and the
wind is dancing in the poppy bed, the deers are scampering on the
shores and here you are holding up the process and...

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Oliver was born in 2004 to an engineer father and a cashier mother. From a young age he loved to play sports and was an avid martial artist. At primary school he was an over-achiever,...

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Dear Budding Poet,

Modern poetry is a mix of new and old with modern styles created by bending or even breaking the rules of old forms to create new ones.
Express yourself any way you want to...

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In a house high on a hill an old man grows weak, many years have gone, he lays in his old bed,
Back in the day, a dashing young officer with a brilliant red uniform he...

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My First poem posted here May 2007 was  an enigmatic Lanterne

Viduage

Tall
nettles-
the dutch hoe
rusting in the
shed.

My First ekphrasis (poem no 2 here ) BELLA

Bella

He
opened
the window-
in streamed his first
love
with
flowers,
dressed
in white-
she haunted his
art.

An Ekphrasis in lanterne  sequence on Marc Chagall

MY FIRST POEM I EVER WROTE poem no 3 here. a favoured form  AN ALLITERATION

Connections
Confront,clash,collide
COMBAT !
Cold shoulder,chill,cool
CUT-OFF !
Cry,crave,collect
CALL-ON !
Constant,compassion,consider
CHARITY !
Confer,commune,converse
COMMUNICATE !
Convene,concert,consensus
CONCORD !
COVENANT ! CHRIST ! CHURCH !

MY FIRST IMAGIST POEM -REFLECTIONS

Reflections

Deep into the pool
A blue moon,ephemeral,
Below white-coated peaks,
Bleak and surreal,
The transient image too soon
Dissolves,and ripples into space,
As water though my grasp.

MY FIRST CINQUAIN (after Adelaide Crapsey)

Long days
Of August sun
Where nature blinks and shrinks
The dying grass,yellowed in sleep-
Held fast

MY FIRST HIKU 

On the wind,a bell
Muffled from across the square
Raindrops fill the air
why hiku ?

HAIKU means  the ' phonetical&cultural original 'in Japanese'

whereas HIKU

is the English language version(including translations)with similar economy of words without "telling all" thereby to ' show ' (conforming to the key to...

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Dickens Christmas carol revisited by nicked saint

Frigidaire - from upper atmosphere 
hammering and whipsawing debris 
ferociously with an angry flare,
cuz mother nature - fed up to here
(re: envision me hands indicating 
over top of head)...

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Memorial Day – 2024... origin of holiday

Strong and brave men and women 
gave their level best
crème de la crème 
strongest and bravest
leaving grieving significant others 
with emotional agony 
within treasured chest
o'er the redoubt  
the...

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Jack Allen was a serious, shy schoolboy, who worked hard at school lessons;
Like mottled skies working hard each day, to convey many color obsessions.

Jack was a little small for his age, and had begun to...

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Am I really this old,
so many ghosts
beckoning?
—Michael R. Burch

Sleepyheads!
I recite my haiku
to the inattentive lilies.
—Michael R. Burch

Stillness:
the sound of petals
drifting down softly together...
—Miura Chora, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The sky tries to assume
your eyes’...

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Are you the butterfly
while in my dreams
I flit after Soshi?
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It's not at all anxious to bloom,
the plum tree at my gate.
—Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The red...

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Trees, big or small, soothe poets,
Big or small, they are advisors, artists
Who soothe the storms of the lonely souls,
They stand out like magicians
Before the subtle skies,

Trees soothe poets, big or small,
They retain birds and their...

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I still reminisce when it was raining incessantly at 3:55 a.m. in the nascent ticks of time on a wistful wednesday. My skin felt the spark of crying hail and maybe, the snow-storms melted too...

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These are original haiku by Michael R. Burch and his translations of haiku by the Japanese masters Matsuo Basho, Yosa Buson, Masaoka Shiki, and others. 

Am I really this old,
so many ghosts
beckoning?
—Michael R. Burch

Sleepyheads!
I recite...

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"KENSINGTON" 
Written By: Billy Malloy
 I choose the path of the lonely, bitter and obsolete, I picked up survival techniques to make ends meet, I learned life lessons from emotions of death being beat, in...

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He’d never ventured further than the next town,
He didn’t know what overseas did mean,
But wanted to be there for King and Country,
The biggest fight the world had ever seen.
He hadn’t anything against the Germans,
He didn’t...

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LIVING OUT OF SUITCASES
There was a time when everyone lived out of a suitcase!
Not just the homeless, the free spirits and the spirits of the free!
But everyone did live out of a suitcase.
Today, we are...

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He starts singing songs of Ireland and we are home in a jiffy
"What's a jiffy," my mother wonders
"Guess  where we went Granny?"
"I don't know but I have a feeling you are gonna tell me,"...

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INTELLIGENCE REPORT:


           The following is an address given to the 1st Mercenary force
           by Major...

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"Puzzle Stomped"



Pieces scattered
placed on a table 
with boundaries 

between 
the incarcerated margins 
there are strict conditions

Time drips 
its wet connection
each piece a stair fitted 

imperfectly
perfect 
towards upwards 

new mirror reflection
a cracked heart piercing
the tear with...

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Eyes are the windows of a soul and they say ‘Love is blind’
But how do you describe colour to a sightless person?

Such depths to your violet eyes
The windows of your Soul
A flickering source of emotions
Speaking...

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