Long Stubbled Poems

Sonnets LII-LX

The Endeavors of Lips
by Michael R. Burch

How sweet the endeavors of lips: to speak
of the heights of those pleasures which left us weak
in love’s strangely lit beds, where the cold springs creak:
for there is...

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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 darkening...

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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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My Iphone softly played Reveille as my 4:30 morning alarm.  Without opening my eyes, I found the phone in the dark and tapped off the alarm.

I gradually worked my way out of the guest...

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In Soup Creek saloon behind Jenna’s bar
Milt’s holsters and belt and a posthumous star
Are fixed to a plaque to remember him best
There’s a custom made bracket where Milton’s guns rest

The gun barrels cross over Milt’s...

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Warning - Mature.

Sweet night, a blanket made from scented space - holds this would-be poet in its arms.

Tightly - yet with care.  Caring - yet with passion.  Smiles her heart.  Trembles her...

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A view of the ragged woodland from
The window:-
Slender branched trees that shed
From high above to low below;
The faint, mauven peaks
Smattered with barely visible
Scatterings of drifted snow;
Across the matted undergrowth
A bronzed carpet of copper coloured
Leaves
Whose rusting...

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Into Young Womanhood

this glorious role, sans
     helping beget and nurture thine first born
three day shy of Christmas 1996,
     fills thy being
     with joie...

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Of Calydorn he speaks each night while drinking bitter ale. 
Of battles won and battles lost out on the planes of Veil. 
His own armorment of sword and shield, leather and chainmail. 
The mighty stead...

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It was a day when the crowded avenue of wizened oak trees
  Loosened its first spluttering of yellowing leaves;
    And far out across the stubbled fields, devoid of the
  ...

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Alfred Joyce Kilmer Tribute ''Trees'' via rehash VIDEO presentation:

Alfred Joyce Kilmer, penned name, 'Joyce Kilmer,'
was killed by a sniper's bullet in WWI at 31 years old,
20   July   30,   1918....

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On a Michigan farmer Saturday
in August,
anticipating tomorrow's evangelical Sabbath,

When late summer vacations
invoked pre-sacred house cleanings
more unusually light,

Heading outside after lunch
into this spectacularly breezy
blue billowing
discontinuously cumulus cloudy
in-between radiant sky blue
infinite wonder

Into this awesomely long leisurely afternoon
becoming...

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I think that I
        shall never see, 
A poem as lovely
        as a tree,
The sun thus shine
    ...

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AUDIO: Vienna Boys Choir, 'Pachelbel's Canon in D Major'

Trees II By Alfred Joyce Kilmer's Admirer

Methinks thus I
        shalt naught e'er see, 
A poem lovely
    ...

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It was not a Parisian café
though it tried to be.
Our teeth were strong
they flashed
intermittently.
The house wine was red,
the bread was good bread.
The creamy leaf was dressed,
it bloomed and licked the mouth
with a blithe bouquet of...

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Trees By Me

Thy sun shineth
        tis countenance,
Thy tree tis gift,
        sparse tis expanse,
Tree girth aloft,
      ...

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Heartthrob in damsel drag
Belief of human bile
Completely instilling cascading dregs of mechanical flesh, bones and spit
64th avenue 
And coiling deft doom
Winged balls of bulging blood and speckled steel
Merry wails and flutters of moths unsealed 
Fitted...

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My eyes are watching you, your eyes are watching me
But all the thoughts you’ve gathered, could never ever see 
The memories lying, dying here inside of me

It was a cold hard wind that blew, through...

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...that builds its scaffolding within
neuro-rivulets
brain tidy 
or caught in random whims
to form a sense of self

memory, where it resides
                with...

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SANTA'S   SURPRISE   

Santa Claus stripped off his beard and red suit 
And left the show in the officers’ mess
Pulling the last tiny pieces of cotton wool from his stubbled chin
As he...

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Unalive

I am unalive.  I am not dead
but neither do I live:  I exist
in black & white, which are uncolors
(mixed together they make gray).
Sight, sound, movement & sensation are
mere mechanics by themselves . ....

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Feeling Whole

Here I lay, my head 
upon your chest 
Not long ago we 
gave each our best 

Head rides with 
every fall and rise 
Escapes from my lips 
a few soft sighs 

Feel the steady...

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go out in the field with that 
helmeted Go-Pro and press the button,
not that little clearing beside the building
but the field as wide as it is far, far out

look up and stream the dark washed...

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The October Incident

Tombstones floated on a green marsh haze
Wolf moon pulled a blanket of gray along
Howling creatures mourned, reached their ends 
A fog, a drape of death, over open crypt and stubbled earth
Down to the...

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Posting early on a dozing suburban 
hill
Mays warming morning rises and 
Gently wakes.
The dewy hares move through the
Earthy till,
Small dry twigs the nesting pigeons
take.

Blue-high sky clear as an Ocean
Layers the heat upon red brick 
streets;
Roads...

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