Long Sold out Poems

The Amistad Mutiny

Slavery, a dirty word no matter how it’s pronounced:
Abducted and herded to the slave fortress of Lomboko1 for trade.
To be tossed in chains below deck on the Portuguese ship Tecora,2
Sailing the Atlantic Middle...

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Agony be to society's demise
Labels are for fools, not for the wise
Play the familiar tune of in-unison serenity 
Fatality won't come any time soon, thankfully...

Homeless people were on the news not to long ago...I weep...

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I see people moving, but going nowhere
I see people moving with their hands thrown in the air
I see people moving but they have nothing to share
Bags and pans, old kettle, and old man
The scavenger, the...

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“SUMMER”



Where 
has Summer 
gone?

The world 
has lost 
Summer

Sweet 
little 
dream

missing 

all those other 
beautiful  
small dreams 

seen as toys
small and 
inconsequential 

casually tossed aside, 
disposable play,
things

pure shining lights
smiling eyes once so bright, 
switched off,

'neath...

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Driven insane by sorrow, there’s no tomorrow to cure it…
Honestly, I’m in vain and so guilty…feeling way less than legit…
I’m holding you close in my optimism and its memories along with it
Torn apart by negative...

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I heard you calling my name in an echoing whisper 
I saw a bird take wing in the whirling wind of disaster 
I put my weary head on your broad shoulders
The moment we touched, I...

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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 Poems VI

The Board
by Michael R. Burch

Accessible rhyme is never good.
The penalty is understood?
soft titters from dark board rooms where
the businessmen paste on their hair
and, Walter Mitties, woo the Muse
with reprimands of Dr. Seuss.

The...

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The angles are in the storm
Just before  the break of dawn
Sending a message to everyone
Telling them to remain calm
The angels are singing out loud
They want to break the treacherous cloud
 and relinquish that awful...

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In Colchester, CT,
and possibly in your town too,
we have a LongTerm ReCoVery Committee
looking at 20/20 prevision
for post-pandemic climate health revisions
for wealthy local and global EarthJustice.

So, what have I noticed
that might be economically
and ecologically win/win useful?

In...

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It's peaceful here in my backyard.
The crows sound happy
with warm October sunlight.

I just read about a deadly gathering in Las Vegas.
Absence of sun-drenched peace.
Inconvenient this time of lost loss.
Death is always inconvenient,
even when invited.

A veteran,
about...

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You've heard that self-unfulfilling prophecy?
"I love humanity--
it's just people I can't stand."

I love healthy humanity--
it's just uppity and/or snooty people I can't stand

I love cooperative humanity--
it's just overly-competitive individuals I can't stand.

Not so distant from,
I...

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Poems about Poems V

Distances
by Michael R. Burch

There is a small cleanness about her,
as though she has always just been washed,
and there is a dull obedience to convention
in her accommodating slenderness
as she feints at her salad.

She...

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Damian Stood in the morning sun.
The sun felt good on his face.
Delilah was still sleeping. He
Kissed her face and caressed 
Her belly until she awoke.
Hey my Mrs. Me. Come on babe.
We will be leaving today...

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An old Greek word, ecclesia,
is often translated as church,
but could also be thought of as a civilization
acting civilly,
as a citizenry
acting as responsible citizens.

The noun side of Ecclesia
casts residents as consumers
of democratic and economic cooperative systems,
while...

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The title of this talk today,
"Win-Win Politics of New Feminist Economics"
suggests questions,
more than emasculating 
definitively deductive
reductive
answers.

Would you imagine
a minority-identified Buddhist,
more likely as a feminist
or culturally comfortable
with political and economic Left-brain domination,
monopolistic competing toward total self-consuming
reiteratively...

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Date:  January  2046

8:45 am  in the Damian Domaine 
Some are sleeping some are peeping
What are we eating? Said Molly to
Dolly. "What ever we can?" She replied 
While still sleepy eyed checking
Supplies. So...

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In Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged"
she paints a nationalistically wealthy saint
where also lives a monochromatically utilitarian narcissist,
sucking on attachment to fame and power
for bought and sold ZeroSum accounting Souls.

If the perfectly powerful pure patriarchal patriot
were your...

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Part 1: FORE SIBERIAN FATE

silk wings wet -
angel on the lake.
starlight glitter
separates from

the golden wheat.
her docile hair,
prophecy of ice.

winter pink,
pinched cheeks.
ice skate scrapes -
flecks of flakes.

the snow queen
before her relentless
reign, a pretty thing.

her smile warms
the...

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I know you invited the Brothers to side-line along,
but only if we are here to listen;
Don't speak.

Yet I may have credential for qualifying voice.
For I, like some of you,
know what it means to develop cooperative,
too...

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This is the 2nd THIRD of my 3-part poem - see Mark Stellinga on Poetry Soup for the other 2 THIRDS - couldn't be helped.



“What about neighbors,” I carefully pried...“do any of them check on...

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Once upon a weedy lawn
At Cedar Oaks Retirement Home
There sat my mother, weak and old
On an afghan knit to block the cold.

It was summer, but in mom's grey eyes
Was winter, when all around us dies.
I...

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Conditions were harsh out in Kansas,
For the children and Sarah and Paul.
Neighbors and friends packed up and were gone;
Headed west they could hear fortune's call.
Never sure year to year of the harvest,
So their talents were...

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Doggerel II: Doggerel about Doggerel, or, More Nonsense Verse

The Board
by Michael R. Burch

Accessible rhyme is never good.
The penalty is understood:
soft titters from dark board rooms where
the businessmen paste on their hair
and, Walter Mitties, woo the...

Read More

Having been avid antiques collectors for nearly 4 decades, my wife and I met our share of rascals like this sneaky dealer - 


Damp and chilly winds were blowing, leaves would paint the ground,
As me...

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