Long Shriveled Poems

State of the Art (IV)

These are my "ars poetica" poems about the art and craft of writing poetry. 



Hearthside
by Michael R. Burch

“When you are old and grey and full of sleep...”  — W. ...

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Poems about Adam, Eve, Lucifer

Eden
by Michael R. Burch

Then earth was heaven too, a perfect garden.
Apples burgeoned and shone, unplucked on sagging boughs.
What, then, would the children eat?
Fruit indecently sweet,
redolent as incense, with a tempting aroma...



Outcasts
by...

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the Horror
by Michael R. Burch

the Horror lurks inside our closets
the Horror hides beneath our beds
the Horror hisses ancient curses
the Horror whispers in our heads

the Horror tells us Death is coming
the Horror tells us there’s no...

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To a Daughter More Precious than Gems
by Otomo no Sakanoue no Iratsume
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Heaven's cold dew has fallen—
and thus another season arrives.
Oh, my child living so far away,
do you pine for me...

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Oasis
by Michael R. Burch 
 
for Beth
 
I want tears to form again
in the shriveled glands of these eyes
dried all these long years
by too much heated knowing.
 
I want tears to course down
these parched cheeks,...

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Salve
by Michael R. Burch

for the victims and survivors of 9-11

The world is unsalvageable ...
but as we lie here
in bed
stricken to the heart by love
despite war’s
flickering images,

sometimes we still touch,

laughing, amazed,
that our flesh
does not despair
of love
as...

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Upon this date he spoke no more of the preceding moments, 
Tearing and hurling insult upon insult
In several directions, his tongue whipped and scorched me,
And he waited relentlessly to see the spark in my eyes...

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These are prophetic poems and apocalyptic poems about the earth, climate change, global warming, extinction events, and mankind's role on an endangered world ...



Polish
by Michael R. Burch

Your fingers end in talons?
the ones you trim to...

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It was dark out. The stars shone dimly, and the horizon blushed faintly as the birds sang, too cheery for the hour. A chill swept the edges of all the outside world: not cold enough...

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Chief garbage taster as fifth grade Halloween gag
at Henry Kline Boyer Elementary School
interestingly enough landed me a grubhub grab bag.

I rooted thru poetry anthology of mine,
and came across an unpublished poem
by one obscure poet (me),...

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Lilith Waits   



Lilith waits as she surveys, all her brutal yesterdays

She cruelly paved with stepping-stones of broken hearts and human bones.

Her lips turned up at their red corners, she grins at all the...

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My eyes couldn’t help 
But wander 
And smile at every passing inch 

Aimlessly following the walls 
And your voice 
Throughout the house you lay your head at night 

It was cozy 
Decorated delicately 
In memories...

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at Henry Kline Boyer Elementary School

As a Halloween costume, 
one year during early grade school, 
my father got the brilliant idea 
for his sole son to be dressed 
with one of a kind getup.

Missus Shaner...

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I.
GRAIL OF TIDES

from the brewing storm’s steeping chalice
the breath of death’s journey awakens in quiet tides 
beckoned by the stirring whisper of mortal winds
furrowed by stoic angels in pallid temporal skies
on wings they dance with...

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Chief egalitarian garbage taster i.e. “white trash”

As Halloween costume, 
one year during early grade school, 
my father got brilliant idea 
for sole son dressed
uniquely rubbish qua 
putrid offal getup. 

Missus Shaner (talon clawed, 
shriveled relic...

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Diagnosed with NON contagious, yet incurable case of logorrhea...,

yielded following resultant fiction,
which arbitrarily selected thread
first popped into my head
considered one among many possible
near infinite concocted scenarios
arose up, thus continue at your own risk
only entertainment ye...

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I wanna trade in my stubby spindleshanks...,

(a poor excuse for legs),
and get me the latest
sophisticated prosthetics advancements,
whereat integration of cultured stem cells
into custom made appendages
allows, enables, and provides
unfortunate recipients of amputations
to experience sensations.

No more will...

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Mother’s dirty offender seeded life that demanded nurture, demanded attention….
Demanded unforeseen fate
Twins, thrust upon her…. strained to love, and yet…. 
This happening urged her to live

Her head lifted, agitated,
Soaked from head to toe in the...

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A Vain Word
by Michael R. Burch
 
Oleanders at dawn preen extravagant whorls
as I read in leaves’ Sanskrit brief moments remaining
till sunset implodes, till the moon strands grey pearls
under moss-stubbled oaks, full of whispers, complaining
to the...

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Always envious of gifted individuals with neat hand printing/writing

Gnome hatter heroic measures taken
moost ludicrously asinine,
nonetheless hoop fully
me legendary penta meat herd bovine design

of modest fellow (me) will endure as divine,
no matter not one bloody poetic...

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Even the Lazy Lizard

Even the lazy lizard knows when not to beg,
when not to emerge, from behind the hungry black rock of 
another dying hand, hopelessly clutching the mysteries of 
another sit-down, in the serene...

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POEMS ABOUT SCIENCE 5: EVOLUTION



Fly’s Eyes
by Michael R. Burch

Inhibited, dark agile fly along
paint-peeling sills, up to the bright glass drawn
by radiance compounded thousandfold,—
I do not see the same as you, but hold
antenna to the brilliant...

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Villanelle: Remembering Not to Call
by Michael R. Burch

(a villanelle permitting mourning, for my mother, Christine Ena Burch)

The hardest thing of all,
after telling her everything,
is remembering not to call.

Now the phone hanging on the wall
will never...

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among the countless thugs
   that teased and taunted myself as a boy
who exhibited blatant characteristics
   of being painfully shy and coy
attempting to remain like a statue as a decoy
which tactic nada...

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“Whoso List to Hunt” is a famous early English sonnet written by Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503-1542) in the mid-16th century. 

Whoever Longs to Hunt
by Sir Thomas Wyatt
loose translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch

Whoever longs to hunt,...

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