Long Undulations Poems

Wonderland
by Michael R. Burch
 
We stood, kids of the Lamb, to put to test
the beatific anthems of the blessed,
the sentence of the martyr, and the pen’s
sincere religion. Magnified, the lens
shot back absurd reflections of each...

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SELF REFLECTIONS

These are poems about mirrors, images, self-image, reflections, impressions and self-reflection. 

Self Reflection
by Michael R. Burch 

for anyone struggling with self-image

She has a comely form
and a smile that brightens her dorm ...
but she's grossly...

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Radiance
by Michael R. Burch

for Dylan Thomas

The poet delves earth’s detritus—hard toil—
for raw-edged nouns, barbed verbs, vowels’ lush bouquet;
each syllable his pen excretes—dense soil,
dark images impacted, rooted clay.

The poet sees the sea but feels its meaning—
the...

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These are poems about Dylan Thomas, as well as poems "for" and "after" Dylan Thomas. Dylan Thomas was one of my favorite poets from my early teens and has remained so over the years. I...

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Myth, after Dylan Thomas
by Michael R. Burch

Here the recalcitrant wind
sighs with grievance and remorse
over fields of wayward gorse
and thistle-throttled lanes.

And she is the myth of the scythed wheat
hewn and sighing, complete,
waiting, lain in a low...

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Poems about Fathers and Grandfathers II



All Things Galore
by Michael R. Burch

for my grandfathers George Edwin Hurt Sr. and Paul Ray Burch, Sr.

Grandfather,
now in your gray presence
you are

somehow more near

and remind me that,
once, upon a star,
you...

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Dream-worker 
delves deeply into my dream;

vibrations fondle anticipation
foreplay wakes wide-eyed 
swells of liquid libido quake the rendezvous edge -
a primordial being in his prime
a masculine ego quest for affaire d’amour;
her night-loving body 
c h a...

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Young Timmy saw Jim walking down the street.  Timmy considered a quick retreat, but steadied himself with a shrug.  Timmy dreaded the sight of Jim, a teenage bully and wanna be thug, who...

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Twice the night had fallen upon a sleepless slumber,
Yet again awoken by winter when the third was three in number.

I sense that a silence doth sneak ‘tween cracks of weathered wood,
Conniving with that which shadows...

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Once the night had fallen upon a sleepless slumber,
Whence the winter woke me when the third was three in number.

I sense that a wince doth lurk and wear which wicked gaze,
Of conniving shadows cast between...

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A wince doth lurk wearing which wicked gaze,
Of conniving cast shadows ‘tween my windowpanes.

Gazing through the window’s diaphanous gelid glass, 
I see a flushing fluorescent misty haze of frothy brass.

It floats aloft the frost of...

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Pasha Acremodios grew greedy,
discontented with the domain he dominated,
so he turned covetous eyes toward Farabia,
sending his soldiers to seize this ripened plum

Spoiling for a fight and fighting for spoils,
his army swept across Farabia
like a bloody...

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Old Albert was frustrated.

He knew his famous ego-identity came from this solar eco-system
with four interdependent dimensional voices.

He felt his own original moment began with ZeroSum nutritional balance
between eco-centered womb 
and emerging ego-centered identity,

And, he felt...

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Adolescent infatuations...never consummated

Greetings reader from a cross between an aging seventy inch long (ringing ding dong) haired pencil necked geek and a Norwegian bachelor farmer wannabe; meaning yours truly actually a virtually married Pennsylvania man,...

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(alternately titled: Typical daily mindset today – 
July 17th, 2020)

The following words
mostly unredacted, nevertheless finessed
for curbed poetic/prosaic appeal
lock, stock and barrel
codify, and edify (hoopfully not mortify)
any reader unbeknownst and/or familiar
with unsteady state of yours truly,
(an...

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The Age Of Summer Love Was Kismet Kissed
(a Sonnet duet)


Our summer love began in Gemini 
with sultry eves of wooing escapades,
and as the moon did swoon as it drew nigh
my lust you stirred with strumming...

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I rediscover organic errors
hidden in co-gravitating
love language.

Gravity is easily noticed
as Apple falling toward Earth;
less visibly co-scienced,
experientially remembered,
as co-gravitational
co-relational intent

As Apple's ego-gravity core
falls drawn toward sacred Earth's
Mothering womb
smothering tomb
once more
returning toward deeply divine
anthrosupremely verbal
overpowering EarthTribe's co-operating...

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I wait—

here I wait
for white magic reverie
to embrace me   free me

here I wait—
an hourglass full
of leopard-print thoughts 
sugar-granular-musings spill
the beginning to the end of a story
the potential   the inevitable
life finite ...

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It is a longterm scientific revolution:

THAT, despite visual perceptions
to the contrary,
Earth revolves around our light
and heat SunSource,

And not the other way,
Sun daily rounding Earth,
abounds all our sensory assumptions
to this EarthBound space in UniversalTime.

THAT our home...

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Through the broken lines of destiny, the shattered strings of time are revealed,
The thread of fate snaps, the springs of eternity unravel silently,
Fallen idols, marble faces cracked under the weight of eternity,
People sleeping in beds...

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Where art thou unknown spellcaster?

If in fact such a female and/or male exists
an insufferable existence clamors for surcease
against riptide of ineradicable anguish.

Living hand to mouth
for majority of mein kampf
(elle ex vee orbitz
roam'n around the nearest...

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You wrap yourself 
in the feather boa fantasy of his dreams
sinuous you; X-rated and never sated
dancing to rock ‘n roll— 80’s dated

welcome to the conjugal jungle 
of not-so-rusted lust
sixty-something-shapely
your 25th anniversary groom
growls a naughty thought
“you...

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Amongst the oaks and the maples and shrubbery so green
Runs a translucent flow, a stream so pristine
It's meandering contours hugging the land
Takes me back to the day, we met unplanned

The sky was pale blue on...

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Dear Earth 
The place I call home and the mother of all around me.
On whose ground I stand when I contemplate the stars,
Whose coarsing rivers flow in my very veins,
And whose molecules constitute my very...

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(composed about eight years ago
moments ago this poem underwent
     slight poetic surgical face lift
modifications by this bro)
this spine tingling reaction,

     sans flushed testosterone
    ...

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