Long Sags Poems

Poems about Poems (II)

Kin
by Michael R. Burch

for Richard Moore

1.
Shrill gulls,
how like my thoughts
you, struggling, rise
to distant bliss?
the weightless blue of skies
that are not blue
in any atmosphere,
but closest here...

2.
You seek an air
so clear,
so rarified
the effort leaves...

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Winter
by Michael R. Burch

The rose of love's bright promise
lies torn by her own thorn;
her scent was sweet
but at her feet
the pallid aphids mourn.

The lilac of devotion
has felt the winter hoar
and shed her dress;
companionless,
she shivers—nude, forlorn.

Published...

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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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These are poems about starlight and moonlight, moons and stars, dreams and visions, illuminations and intimations …



Will There Be Starlight
by Michael R. Burch 

Will there be starlight
tonight
while she gathers
damask
and lilac
and sweet-scented heathers?

And will she find...

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...inspired by 'Portrait Of A Lady' by T.S. Eliot


On winter days the view outside is nebulous at best,
within, the furniture is as it always was, and I am waiting,
waiting for a glimpse of you to...

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Time 


Did we think that time would always there for us?
An infinite amount of time to use as we please.

Never counting time.....and never thinking it would end

Did we ever doubt that someday time would be...

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1	A plume of dirt and grime envelops sky;
		The hellish slug of gas does creep along.
		It casts an orb three hundred stories high
		Over the Sun and ends his morning song.
		The birds and trees now stand a...

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Sun setting over the dark green fringe of a shivering lake on the last day of winter
An old man still unbent sits on a deserted wooden bench
   with the load of his cares...

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The Evening Soup, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s La soupe du soir

						To J.-K. Huysmans

(Verlaine here paints a stark tableau of working-class or peasant life shorn of any symbolic or imaginary references. Even if I see no...

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SAPPHO TRANSLATIONS

Eros harrows my heart:
wild winds whipping desolate mountains,
uprooting oaks.
—Sappho, fragment 42, translation by Michael R. Burch



Sappho, fragment 113
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

No droning bee,
nor even the bearer of honey
for me!



Sappho, fragment 113
loose translation/interpretation...

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The moon, a golden doubloon buried in the midnight sky, amongst a billion diamond 
speckles, shimmers in the warm summer night’s air, as it slowly climbs to its zenith. The 
lake reflects the scene back...

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I was walking 
absentmindedly on 
the street
When I saw a sight 
luvly to behold.
This sight fit to take 
a man off his seat
Cos it's one that is 
but for the bold!

I have been 
oblivious of...

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Though I'll remember nature's wonders,
sunsets and the breath of spring,
feel the wind blow through my hair
and know the thrill of sunrise cresting.

We see the universe as dancing,
two such different creatures trancing,
we two will never understand
the...

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We see the universe as dancing,
two such different creatures trancing,
we two will never understand
the private notions of the other,
even if we take each other's hand.

Coming close to your destruction
you will see the other side,
who says...

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Winter's Rose

white frost streaks her hair
smooth ice-sculpture skin of youth
     stroked by cracks
            wrinkles that have weathered life
  ...

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Many years ago, when we were all young,
We really thought life, would be so much fun.
While playing dress-up, trying on mom’s stuff,
Putting on make-up, we found to be tough.

Then came our schooling, and boy things...

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Second Quiz with even broader hints for blind poets

The Princess Anna stood
   arms half-akimbo
   at the scrawny edge of the receding bank
her Polonaise pollarded down
   to her exposed tarsus...

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Wisdom tooth, the oral root of prophesy
I respect you with all my worth
When you speak my eyes come
I wake up and turn as you order
I constrict like a serpent stung
At your command I fizzle like...

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Poems about Poets V



Edna St. Vincent Millay Has Her Way with a Vassar Professor
by Michael R. Burch

After a night of hard drinking and spreading her legs,
Millay hits the dorm, where the Vassar don begs:
“Please act...

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I shall take my morning walk,
communing with the birds and talking
to myself while reading Kafka,
glancing at the latest headlines.
Dear Stravinsky's 'Rite' is slighted,
(he'll return when ears are righted.)
When I smell a rose I'm prompted 
to...

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I lie on my now made bed
at a total loss for words and hope
And holding myself upright
Trying to block any thought 
From escaping me
More especially the one that bothers me the most
Which would constitute the...

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Part I
Three TV shows stick in my mind.
Specific memories are hard to find.
There once was a series, long ago.
I would always cry at the end of the show.

“I Remember Mama” was the program's name.
Their family...

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I shall take my morning walk,
communing with the birds and talking
to myself while reading Kafka,
glancing at the latest headlines.
Dear Stravinsky's 'Rite' is slighted,
(he'll return when ears are righted.)
When I smell a rose I'm prompted 
to...

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Written: February 07, 2024
                 ___________________________________

It appears as if 
the world has been 
coated by a wave of 
deceitful dictums,
  where faked...

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What is this charm that others have?
Magnetic attraction and attention grabbing,
Playing the room like the Pied Piper of Hamelin.

Charm like a souffle needs careful attention to detail,
    practice and handling with care.
Overdone...

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