Long Tragedy Poems

“I am NOT like my father!!!
You say that again, I’m going to kill you!”

I shrivel up in shame
For, I am not to blame
For the shenanigans you put me through so many times
Sometimes, I wish I...

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Hate the feelings of ew's and ugh's...let's pause before we put our paws on this unmanageable cause with silent applause (quiet interest or hushed enthusiasm)
What's the cause of these negative, gross, worthless flawful laws that...

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Verse 6: I've given up love countless times 
I needed to pay up for my heartbroken crimes
I already repented for my sins that made my high hopes paper-thin
Don't you feel that envy from deep within?...

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In one sense,
the Cafe CoOp
started as my therapeutic retirement dream.

But,
in quite another
the CoOp goes back to when I was eight,
and I thought,
assumed really,
everyone indulged in Thought Experiments
about what would my optimal Eden Paradise.
restoring peace and...

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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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The pencil now resting the image was 'testing' for the creature before him, (his badly-drawn drawin') had come out 'not right' somewhat twisted and tight.

The picture in question, it burst with suggestion, for lines that...

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                                  ...

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- - Chapter 2: Adult Responsibility (With Some Breaks) - -     

By ten years old, no weekends off, 
Or Saturday cartoons, 
Although I did have cash to spend, 
I felt my...

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(Somewhere in late 18th-century Europe a friend, Laetitia, by way of a letter warns her beloved girlfriend, Euphoria--a young, gay and unsuspecting mistress--against the almost inevitable seductions of the infamous and maundering philanderer, Melancholia.).



Dear Euphoria,

...

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Wovoka in the Feverland

In the Dying-Grass Moon came another winter to claim the old and sick.
This was when the first messengers came
To the desolation known as Pine Ridge.
They came riding in at the end of...

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As I look back across more musical times
of rhythmic reflections,
ceremonies and commemorations
of each dawn and dusk eremitic liturgy,
if that is not an oxymoron
of sound and sight,
song and dance,
tragically sad, yet also bilaterally bound with happier...

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~ In  His   Light  ~
 (  Mirrored Hourglass  )



~O~
 


 Love   Worship  Pray  Trust  the Lord

 Lord won't leave you alone

 His mercy will...

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I must admit
You left me broken…
I am shattered shards,
Spread out on your hands…
Your sweaty palms of uncertainty at hand
But, we will land in a land of I-understand…

Make a stand and things won’t get out of...

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Deliberately recognizing the sun against the moonbeams
I see your eyes gleam and your happiness screams
Into my eager ears over the years and I’m tension-whelmed with the tears I shed
Hanging at the last thread, giving in...

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Moby Dick, a novel by Herman Melville, published in London in October 1851 as The Whale and a month later in New York City as Moby-Dick; or, The Whale. It is dedicated to Nathaniel Hawthorne....

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What Kind of People Are We

In a Shakespearean sense of tragedy and doubt the well-used
“To Be or Not To Be” from Hamlet is not the question I shall
discuss in this narrative. Rather, I shall consider...

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Blossoming 
Effulgent sun proffers love 
Clambering… 
My brain makes me wonder if you remember the times shared
Back to the blessed times, I recall that you would listened, be worried about me, and, at the time,...

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Piles of poetry yet to come falling in the fingers of the readers
Scroll through my lines as much as your heart and mind eagers
Remorse and anguish is what I feed on when I sin senselessly
Did...

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I'm very lucky...writing poetry soothes my soul -


Rhonda was the only child of Ron and Debby Baker. 
Debby was a widow.  It was 1952…
And having been away from ‘41 to ‘43 -
fighting on the...

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I sing my songs with rageful joy in mind,
Forgetting the past struggles, aches and sorrows
That intertwine with my mind’s eye, leaving all of me behind
Forgiving others of their wrongs for better tomorrows

You know who comforts...

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Translation of Mahakavi Bharathiyar’s poem: “Asai Mugam” or “Beloved Face”
                         ...

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Geese, Goslings and the Bridge

Sometimes, when you least expect it, Mother Nature makes a u-turn and draws you into the ridiculous.  Such was the time recently as I was returning from a friend’s home...

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Depression is like dying
without hope this process will end well,
without remediation
at least not for my closely held ego-identity,
and despair 
this turning inward
creates a cocoon by avoiding outward.

Focal awareness of ego mortality, 
immanent and emanant,
eminent,
turns inward,
returns...

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Do you recognize me anymore?
Do you realize that my heart is sore?
Let me memorize your heart’s melody
Let me see right through your…melancholy…

Do you ever wave goodbye to yesterday?
Can’t bear the thought of you leaving me...

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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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