Long Squalls Poems

The First Thanksgiving (Sept. 3, 1578)

The shortest distance to Cathay 1
(Land of riches: silks, teas and spices)
Lay to the north to the South Sea. 2
Didn’t Barlow tell the King, 3
Was reserved for England.

The routes ‘round...

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The Raven and the Bard
-Daniel Henry Rodgers

The Raven's quill drips shades of blackest night,
Its haunting words, a melody of fright.
The Bard's natural lines, like "Evangeline's" fair hair,
Shed history's warm light to chase away all care...

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In the realm of moons and breathless tides,
where promises dance with a serendipitous sonnet of sunrises,
along with morning kisses, unfolds a love story—
a poetic novel etched in the chronicles
within the hourglass of time,
a journey that...

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O' Baobab! O' Baobab! O' Baobab
Ace of the furnace, finest of the dynasty 
You strut your breast high
And ply strain against the yearn, 
Against the fire, the desire for sigh 
Haughty, you stand, before the...

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Rest now
O restless heart
released in ebb   to flow

ride the other side of the king tide rising
buoyant your movement in rise with the waves
Rise! to beyond where breakers break long-suffering shores
pitiless the grind of...

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h when i was truth i fell
drew boy i grew up
still def still be a cre4ators tool
wipers for the pain tears drop
fear not, fret no baby worrys from the devil. whispers on my ear xrtays...

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PROLOGUE:

For what's in a name,
That Shakespeare untamed,
A lyric gained fame,
But when it became,
A different ball game,
For one who's insane.

Yet if twin Yanks say 'Gogh' , 'tis equivalent
might meant, to be, like 'goes',
Dutch disagree, cite, annunciation,
could...

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Decades of art, and some as oil paintings, 
whereat, had most work made in just the last two years.
Persuades the heart, of similar taste, seems,
fair that, Van Gogh's work may be the best than of...

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Memory of Lost Innocence 

We were just kids running down the hillside, with youthful spontaneity marking the passage of time. No beaten path, we just flowed where our little hearts took us, wedging our way...

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STROKIN’: PART THREE
THE FULLBACK

He was twenty-eight yards and
thirty-two seconds from the end of a career
He had broken several bones, had a permanent
limp, knew the burden of performance to be an
unforgiving weight like the heavy black...

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These are poems about storms, poems about squalls, poems about tempests...



Dark-bosomed clouds
pregnant with heavy thunder ...
the water breaks
—Michael R. Burch



Squall
by Michael R. Burch

There, in that sunny arbor,
in the aureate light
filtering through the waxy leaves
of a...

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These are poems about storms, poems about squalls, poems about tempests...



Squall
by Michael R. Burch

There, in that sunny arbor,
in the aureate light
filtering through the waxy leaves
of a stunted banana tree,

I felt the sudden monsoon of your...

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Sappho Translations XI by Michael R. Burch


Sappho, fragment 92
translation by Michael R. Burch

“Sappho, if you don’t leave your room,
I swear I’ll never love you again!
Get out of bed, rise and shine on us,
take off your...

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Sighing, he shouldered the old duffle bag
And followed others as they sauntered down the gangway
Free at last, from the ship's cramped and stench-filled quarters,
He smiled, at the crisp, fresh and bitingly cold, new day!

His feet,...

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Mary Rose, the mighty sailing sea vessel glided majestically across the waves 
She had robustly and bravely sailed the briny waves for many a night and day
With the ocean's heaving gusting squalls blowing off proud...

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When you get life has edges and dangers abound,
Pat yourself on the back, for this wisdom’s profound.
One who groks danger’s near has the best chance to live!
Fools who’re sure that they’re safe either brag or...

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Nobody Likes A Know-It-All

(Or ... I Know What I Know)


(Prov. 1: 29* / Prov. 1: 22-33 / John 15: 19 / Matt. 7: 3-6 / Prov. 3: 7 / Prov. 9: 7, 8)




Nobody Likes A...

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Not-So-Heroic Couplets
by Donald Trump
care of Michael R. Burch 

To outfox the pox: 
kill yourself first, with Clorox!

And since death is the goal, 
mainline Lysol! 

No vaccine?
Just chug Mr. Clean!

Is a cure out of reach?
Fumigate your...

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T i m e stops for no one,
as searing seconds swerve
through seasonal squalls,
thawing frost that sleeps upon
the necks of onyx roses,
where pain is etched in skeletal sins~
across pruned plumes,
fleeting through amethyst air, 
merged in changing...

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The New Year has come wafting on the wings of winter
The high latitudinal areas of the northern hemisphere
Would be in the grip of frequent snowstorms severe
Throwing life in desolate isolation and out of gear.
The cold...

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I asked the desert 
 to carry me from this place
 of the Qubbanet El-Qirud’ infertile soil 
 suddenly, that whisper of wind
 took my hand, and walked
 along and alone with me
 I, heard...

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1956 Newport to Bermuda Race

In June, 89 sailboats at midday
Left Newport and Narragansett Bay.

We're on the way in a 635 mile race
To Bermuda - a beautiful place.

Light winds on the first day out
Even sighted a...

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You are my beacon in the darkness
the bulwark and seawall which protect my shore
the lamp which pierces the stormy waters
that surround me
I navigate the deep with the course you set for me
your spirit moves the...

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I will never forget the man I fell in love with, 
a man who once felt whole, who now bellows 
through broken nights of blood-stained desert, 
who sees ashen faces frozen in sand squalls ...

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New town, new job, strapped for cash. It was her birthday and this was all I could afford.
          
       ...

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