Long Shires Poems

Radiance
by Michael R. Burch

for Dylan Thomas

The poet delves earth’s detritus—hard toil—
for raw-edged nouns, barbed verbs, vowels’ lush bouquet;
each syllable his pen excretes—dense soil,
dark images impacted, rooted clay.

The poet sees the sea but feels its meaning—
the...

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These are poems about Dylan Thomas, as well as poems "for" and "after" Dylan Thomas. Dylan Thomas was one of my favorite poets from my early teens and has remained so over the years. I...

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Myth, after Dylan Thomas
by Michael R. Burch

Here the recalcitrant wind
sighs with grievance and remorse
over fields of wayward gorse
and thistle-throttled lanes.

And she is the myth of the scythed wheat
hewn and sighing, complete,
waiting, lain in a low...

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Marching out of the cloaked shires
Of landowners, stockbrokers, 
Hereditary Peers, and ruddy faced 
Squires:
A vast multitude of many varied 
Tribes.
Amassing in the great cities, where,
Inhabiting shadowy chambers, 
Behind nodding sighs and hushed 
Whispers, 
The Masonic...

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First let us take our friend the horse
a noble creature who serves us well
supplying us with a source of good compost 
ferrying us here and there in fine style
pulling carts and carriages with aplume
carrying riders...

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When your befuddled mind
Forsakes upon the ragged edge
Of swirling darkness;
Where eternal night awaits
To sate upon purest innocence
Besides an open grave!
When the gravity of your perils
Be foully whispered within
Dismayed
And abject earshot;
Where salvation for despairing souls
Be so...

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My mam used to clean at Billy Bulson’s farm,
A magical place of mystery and charm,
With geese that cackled and hissed and every day.
Without my mam I’d have run away
As they charged with flapping wings.
I was...

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Yorkshire, 1914
I patch mended her copper saucepan,
Edged an axe, two cleavers and a knife.
I did all the jobs that were required.
By this comely young farmer’s wife.
She served me a platter of rare beef
With chunks of...

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He was the village blacksmith
To us children he was known
As our adopted Uncle Wilf
They’d no children of their own.
Six days a week he worked,
His hours long and physically hard.
Our cottage back door opened 
Straight onto...

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they dug a path down Church Lane
with walls that , to my child’s eye
seemed to rear up sheer and cold
as though reaching for the sky
at the extremes of my memory 
not much else is really...

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" Beacon of Love, shine in the night of waning moon, whither thy lamp beams goest , the world will go, O light up the lamps of hope and love"
Eden Verse


Thou foster child of sea...

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About the end of times when
Carts were hauled by Shires,
Coal was king and homes
Were heated by open fires,
A seemingly huge dark figure
From my early childhood days
As he drove his horse and cart
Through the country byways
From...

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I pored over my weather maps contriving a prognostication,
Of the weather forecast for the consumption of the British population.
It comprised all the towns, villages and shires from A to Zed,
To include the burgs of Wookey...

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(* to be read in the style of Heny V before the battle of Agincourt)

To arms! To arms!
Men of the Shires, rouse from your winter sleep
the game's afoot, waste no more time abed,
to Hardware stores...

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Reminders of looking back the other way
Impossible to recall 'just' the way we were
Took the road few travel, wiser for it today
And yesterday, took a road to travel away
From here, the angels tears and the...

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This Regency Dandy flying across the river,
                        
    ...

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Part 1 - London's Medieval Minster

Cathedrals come, cathedrals go, 
but none impresses or enthralls 
(summer drought or winter snow, 
sparkling springs or foggy falls) 
quite like the Church of Old Saint Paul's. 

Six hundred years...

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The Great Meadow

Beyond the high hedge the great meadow extends to the  sky
Its fallow grasses fanned into waves by a breeze.    
While down the slope the bearded barley and rye 
Make...

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Let's flee to Little Langdale,
where mountains pierce the sky
through layers of cloud and fog,
past birds that swarm like flies.
Let's find the quarry tunnels 
and tour Cathedral Cave 
We'll hear our voices echo
like pebbles skipping waves.
Let's...

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by Joseph Christopher Liguori and Robert James Liguori

Shh. Can’t you hear her talking to me. 
Her voice is the whisper from a tree. 
Sweet arms are the branches that grab me tight, 
And lift me...

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Bevy of swans in a sea-fowl cloud,
starling mumuration,whispering aloud.
Wray of quail,where teal spring,
tiding of magpie,as larks nesting, cling.

Nightingale watch a hover of crows,
herd of wrens,hosting sparrows.
Flight of doves,lapwing deceit,
charm of finches,swallows sweet.

Kindle of kittens,knot of...

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Bevy of swans in a sea-fowl cloud,
starling mumuration,whispering aloud.
Wray of quail,where teal spring,
tiding of magpie,as larks nesting, cling.

Nightingale watch a hover of crows,
herd of wrens,hosting sparrows.
Flight of doves,lapwing deceit,
charm of finches,swallows sweet.

Kindle of kittens,knot of...

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Brexit Sonnet No. 46
‘A Brexit Gift’
 

What larks! A Brexit gift with double bow,
A tale of two shires with border slung between.
As cameras flash, a cashing stream doth flow
To feed and nourish London’s clear air...

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For far shires beyond the western red sun
  I’m leaving the Land of the Long White Cloud -
to journey across the blue horizon
  where cockatoos in bloodwoods sing aloud.
Trading in my black singlet...

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Imagine a world that
Could have been
A little more rural 
Of forest and green
Steam is the power
Coal is still king
And they rely a lot
On the clockwrk spring.

A much slower world 
As Shires pull loads
Along its network...

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