Long Stepping Poems

When I was a child
Everything was magical
Full of mystery and the unknown
I read hundreds of books
The library my haven
My home
Hours upon hours
Night and day
I read and got lost in text
They supplied me with adventures
Secret journeys
Fun...

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Early afternoon. The Solomon 
Were in their, (according to Damali)
Club house. But the reality of the
Circumstance is this. The Club 
House was the Damian Domaine.
Damian's Billards. Damian didn't 
Know it was their chosen hangout.
As the...

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Turkish Poetry Translations II

Çanakkale Sehitlerine
"For the Çanakkale Martyrs"
by Mehmet Akif Ersoy
loose English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Was there ever anything like the Bosphorus war??
The earth’s mightiest armies pressing Marmara,
Forcing entry between her mountain passes
To a...

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Monks and nuns,
ascetics and miscellaneous humble proletariat folks,
were taught custody of the eyes,
to show respect for those older
and/or wiser
and/or more supremely royal,
and/or in other positions of merited or inherited authority,
to avoid appearing too curious
too available
too...

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A Stolen Memory
A Mirthful Chorus
By Sy Roth 


We surrounded him 
Asked to let go.
She stared at the misshapen face,
Unshaven sandpapery skin 
Eyelids a tabula rasa
Fluttery sere skin
And we could see the humor blossoming in his...

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I am sick of excuses to avoid responsibility
and I am, today, sick with excuses to avoid responsibility
with "I'm just a mortal human. I make mistakes.
I judge situations and relationships,
assess potential risks to care and nourishing...

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Desharah  woke early morning 8 am.
She wanted to check out her new
House. But she waited for Sedanah 
To come out of her dreams. 
"WAKE UP SEDA."  They roomed
Together. That's what her mother 
Wanted....

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Come, You
by Rainer Maria Rilke
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

This was Rilke’s last poem, written ten days before his death. He died open-eyed in the arms of his doctor on December 29, 1926, in the...

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Archaic Torso of Apollo
by Rainer Maria Rilke
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

We cannot know the beheaded god
nor his eyes' forfeited visions. But still
the figure's trunk glows with the strange vitality
of a lamp lit from within,...

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Postcard 1
by Miklós Radnóti
written August 30, 1944
translated by Michael R. Burch
 
Out of Bulgaria, the great wild roar of the artillery thunders,
resounds on the mountain ridges, rebounds, then ebbs into silence
while here men, beasts, wagons...

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The Panther
by Rainer Maria Rilke
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

His weary vision's so overwhelmed by iron bars,
his exhausted eyes see only blank Oblivion.
His world is not our world. It has no stars.
No light. Ten thousand...

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Merov’s Ghost (1) and Other Shots Across My Bow!

In mid-November of Fourteen, I published my first web verse here, (2)
the earliest spanned sixty years, composed for Senior English class
one night in Nineteen Sixty-One. Assigned just...

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[Well, ShallowMan’s ne’er at a loss
for voicing shallow thoughts that gloss.
With trenchant wit he reaps the dross
when seeking sense in applesauce.

But to his aid flies FactoidMan
who always has a Fact at hand;
with him, who needs...

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Stars fall under failing skies...stars fall...stars fall...
And sadly...i start to drive.
Through the unremarkable village with its tall 
Georgian Bay window panes, lightless,
devoid of visages; outwardly staring back at my 
Abject countenance with detached contempt and...

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A Night On A Wharf

The couple decide to walk. The boardwalk still lit at this late hour guides them. They walk hand in hand,..whispering softly with small talk...solemn.,. lonely , yet together. The walk is...

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[Continued from ‘Terror Bugs: Part 4 - A Freezer Mice Adventure’]
__________

A water cannon screeched around the corner on two wheels
Four and twenty Terror Bugs were nipping at its heels
Their acid blistered paint work but it...

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I take a four-fold spin
through Bill Plotkin's wheel
of bilateral identities,
iconic developmental faces,
ironic personalities.


FIRST comes Eastern-born
dawn of human infancy,
Innocent Sage infants
so WiseElder
in our LeftBrain emergent
wrinkling unfolding 
sacred RightBrain ways.

Searching for care giving eyes
to be sure we...

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Set upon the new world stage within the burning fires of hell. Silently posed factions of the elite, suppress the true inherit of Mother Earth. The meek children bending over for millennium, taken spankings of...

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I miss the old days where only you had my key
I miss the old times - running wild and free
I miss the old house and your pool and banana tree
I miss the days when it...

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Tell me, my friend,  
does infinity not unsettle your reason,  
or is it a comfort—to believe it meaningless?  

Look beyond the rust of your disbelief—  
this isn’t the frostbitten dogma you...

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Despite his impatience to show me his hell,
He waited for me in my rest, 
Lying upon the ground, I awoke in prayer,
Thanking God above and asking Him for guidance

“My heart is Yours, always,
From the moment...

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"Fragments and crumbs of life, all the little pieces"

                    John Ruskin, 1853


I think of youth’s sweet...

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This is my translation of the first of Rilke’s Duino Elegies. Rilke began the first Duino Elegy in 1912, as a guest of Princess Marie von Thurn und Taxis, at Duino Castle, near Trieste on...

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"The Call of the Grimoire" 


when Exalibur was retrieved 

from the rock, then foolishly 
and irretrievably lost 
in that dreadful battle most worthless

the imps encouraged 
the once good Poesie folk 
to jeer and throw pebbles

the...

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Our lusty voice was in the tramp of narrow, winding,
     Scree-littered, deep-rutted roads;     
 Ravens, uttering guttural croaks, slow-wheeling above      
 ...

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