Long Sipped Poems

Near Sainthood
by Mirza Ghalib
translation by Kanu V. Prajapati and Michael R. Burch

On the subject of mystic philosophy, Ghalib,
your words might have seemed deeply profound
and we might have pronounced you a saint...
if only we hadn't found
you...

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No, Freddie can’t say he mourned when his father died and his father’s third wife found Freddie's number and gave him a call to give him the news. His father had been responsible, worked hard,...

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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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This happened last Fall, during Thanksgiving break.

Lisa and I were at the MET (The Metropolitan Museum of Art), with her family, at an exhibit of Art Deco sculpture. Lisa and I came out of a...

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"I agree," Bayard murmured while looking at the few people walking I across the street. Summer was over and the boy was beginning to get frustrated at the sight of girls wrapped in blankets of...

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“22½ euros for a Martini,” Peter remarked, when he first scanned the menu.
“It’s not like we aren’t going to get them,” I said, “we’re not going to cheap our way to abstinence." The waiter came...

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Under a tree of wet blossoms, shimmering to life in the sun, one honey bee is circling around two burly men, who wave it off,  with childlike dramatics...arms flailing.   One of them,...

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As time passed on by, they settled and married
producing a fine brood of children
yet growing more and more unsettled
until one day they headed off again
this time going to the far north
where the lands were bound...

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In glamor-light of sunset
a new crowd of cumulus clouds arrive
and revive a sepia sky-scene—
unworldly woolgatherers gather
spinning fantasy fluff into quixotic yarns
of debutantes dancing with honeymoon hunger;
their dewy eyes blurred by the sawdust of stardust

pseudo-princess-pleasure-seekers
—drama daring...

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We, the generation of '50,
Time-travelers with stardust in our hair, with memories planted in pockets,
Rooted in decades embraced by change, souls adorned with the dawn of the post-war world.
We spun on the carousel of the...

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The Job

I got a plane to catch in the morning.  8:15 AM out of Austin, destination Orange County, CA.  Never cared much for California and I don’t think anything about this trip is...

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Freddie and Fern were an old couple, a very old couple if truth be told, but on the matter of age, the truth seldom surfaced. Their kids were grown and gone and had families of...

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Already an apology is due,
which is only better
than one already overdue,

Yes, I know cannabis
is a place of multiple
and diversely celebrated
subcultures,

And, yes, I realize chaos
and complexity may be civilly sipped
and thirstily gulped
from diverse alcohol
subcultures,
pedigrees,
castes of enumerated...

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"He made a difference."

Gramps, my mother's father, 
Dave Luke -- my grandfather, 
a tall unlettered white (decidedly white) 
Louisiana man -- was born August 1888.  
He lived 87 years.  He grew under 
the...

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When Nature's Beauty and Sky's Heart Became One
 
Emerald glen, I first saw angel’s wings come down
one of Nature's bright treasures outside our small town;
as brilliant glows entered sad heart and seeing eyes,
I heard voices...

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True person .This was written for a friend about a lost friend. 
Last night I was provided with a list of everything that was 
to be used in the poem below, as a keepsake and...

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A Vow, a Ring, a Holy thing
                            ...

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Life shattered, soul crushed, another one has perished 
once gone from this world was all she ever cherished
No amazing and joyful tales to tell the kids
just naked silence, from raging of black rapids
From heavens above,...

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Gathered in the shade of her quaint little garden, 
 where a trellis was woven with rose climbing vines,
   something enchanting, had been deftly designed, 
     on an ordinary...

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 Continued from Part 1 

The forgery of Multitudes between the Silhouettes
(and discarded cigarettes,
neath the haunted parapets)
mock my lonely echoed steps
         – mock my lonely echoed steps...

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Poem inspired by a 2013 Australian apocalyptic thriller movie known as, "These Final Hours". Depending on certain criteria, YouTube is running this movie in its entirety free for most, if not, some of its viewers.

In...

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Continued from Part 1
Ah Consuela! I’m watching the vertigo veiling her green Spanish eyes,
while the drumbeat pounds, droning, the rhythm sounds, moaning,
                 of jungles Jamaican entwined
in the valleys concealing the vineyards revealing
                 the vaults in...

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Please, may I walk into your paradise with you
with its streets of gold and bright skies of blue?
My darling, you are in my sorrow-filled sad eyes
your kiss, honey in my ecstasy cries!

This true love, its...

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Emerald glen, I first saw angel’s wings come down
one of Nature's bright treasures outside our small town;
as brilliant glows entered sad heart and seeing eyes,
I heard voices from Heaven, soothing joyful cries,
turning I saw an...

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A couple decided to walk
down to the park near the river
At that time, you could barely see
the crimson moon, just a sliver

Moon was always that color
on Halloween night.
Lexy was holding on 
to James hand very...

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