Long Tipsy Poems

They were gambling in front of the house.
Manservants and pages bustled about
Serving Suitors who just curse and carouse.
Few mix wine with water. I heard one shout,
"Clean down the tables with wet sponges! Rouse
Yourselves! And when...

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Here and Hereafter
by Michael R. Burch

Life’s saving graces are love, pleasure, laughter ...
wisdom, it seems, is for the Hereafter.



Laughter’s Cry
by Michael R. Burch

Because life is a mystery, we laugh
and do not know the half.

Because death...

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Poems about Fathers and Grandfathers IV



Neglect
by Michael R. Burch

What good are your tears?
They will not spare the dying their anguish.
What good is your concern
to a child sick of living, waiting to perish?

What good, the warm...

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Poems about Children V

Pan
by Michael R. Burch

Among the shadows of the groaning elms,
amid the darkening oaks, we fled ourselves

Once there were paths that led to coracles
that clung to piers like loosening barnacles

where we cannot return,...

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HEROES

Near somber guards, units of children heap 
dead leaves, naive to any else fallen.
Friend, you chuckle, but your posture speaks
of duty on this day of contradictions.

Firefighters bow heads in silent paean, 
while polished trucks stand...

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I got friggin heebie jeebies

Cuz buzzards circle o'er me
eyeing these lovely bones prithee
id est Roy L. T. Canard, Si
hence impossible mission 
to be lovey dove vee.

Vague remembrances of dream  
which recurred with frequency
transfixed by...

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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 may think of freedom, not as the right thing to do, but as the opportunity to do what is right.”              ...

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Her romantic letters, birth as heart pure and true 
supported deep vows we both swore to be held to.
Her grace, soft as the silence of morn's falling dew
with vows to keep hot passion of love...

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The finis sing touches touché

Knead dull brows knitted; 
belief system I cogitate 
gearing thee ordinary bipedal hominid 
acquiesces to deck the halls 
of the mountain (dew) king with boughs 
of sister golden haired 
sprinkling angel...

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Her Grace, Soft As The Silence Of Morn's Falling Dew
 
Her romantic letters, birth as heart pure and true 
supported deep vows we both swore to be held to.
Her grace, soft as the silence of...

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It was glorious ...

A glorious, glowing morn ...
crimson crept up the sky, as if air-brushed ...
little round globs of fair-weather clouds tiptoed on the reach,
(so as to not wake the moon, laying down its head...

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Hours and days and seasons
degenerating apartisan tipsy laughter,
seeding deep-rooted disrespect
and highest and phattest co-arising Presence

For those unconditionally warm
and wet
and indigenously wild
and sacredly wise Selectors 
who actually might be clever 
enough to know win/win personal Presence...

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Getting Lost in Peace

When a man loses his bearings
In a land of riches and honey
He sometimes loses sight of life’s tribulations
Spoiled to the core he wonders what the heck for?
Why should he care of the...

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Saturn ! You magnetised with 
enchanting icy rings
promised white gold
endless skates on 
Chrysalis circled cates
said we would go round 
like fairy rings 
said you had so much
Love to give I would never 
go wanting nor...

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Your touch got me acting so crazy 
Got my body screaming from your heat 
Knocks me off my feet 
Drop me on my knees and give it to me right 
You got me jumping and...

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These are the best sports poems by Michael R. Burch, Part V

Just Smile
by Michael R. Burch

We'd like to think some angel smiling down
will watch him as his arm bleeds in the yard, 
ripped off by...

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ZEN DEATH HAIKU IV

These are my modern English translations of Japanese Zen Death Haiku. 

The moon
hovering above the snow-capped mountains
rained down hailstones
—Sekitei Hara, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Oh, dreamlike winter butterfly: 
a puff of...

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PAINTBRUSH 

Fingertips the bristles of a 
pagan paintbrush 
painting a Tree of Life
on pacified cheekbones 
instead of in liver
from whence it sprung
now it burns to feed
HeartSpace with witty
wood for Eternal Fire

From cheekbones
it slid to jugular...

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When our eyes first met, in an evening's glow of twilight
the moon was rising, the world disappeared
I saw only you
we enjoyed a calm gentle merriment
as love's breath crossed the unmeasurable distance
where we found a glistening...

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Have you ever been forgetful
When you're busy with a lot on your mind
As I do from time to time
Or just like me a scatterbrain

Like talking on the phone too long
And it ends up being a...

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(If I could spit venom, this paper would hiss.)

I cant sleep,
it's dark and i can feel your memory biting
my eyes are sore with the persistence of it
weeping, rasping, clawing, grasping at my spine
(still too apathetic...

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I'm angry, about to throw a fit, and I wish a poet would challenge me.
Follow me into the fiery bottomless pit, and I'll show you demonic poetry!

I have a need to make a poet bleed,...

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Lady Shutterbug had doubt
Spent hours that coulda been ‘bout
an environ pro-activist devout    
Spotting celebrities, scoping it out
Not keeping abreast trendy starlets 
Kylie, Mavee, Cardi B, or Scarlet
Yet little does she regret, 
out...

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Rain  diary  -part 1                          By   ...

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