Long Vaster Poems
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EARLY POEMS XIX
Bound
by Michael R. Burch
Now it is winter—the coldest night.
And as the light of the streetlamp casts strange shadows to the ground,
I have lost what I once found
in your arms.
Now it is winter—the coldest night.
And as the light of distant Venus fails to penetrate dark panes,
I have remade all my chains
and am bound.
Published as “Why Did I Go?” in my high school journal, The Lantern
130 Refuted
by Michael R. Burch
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red ...
— Shakespeare, Sonnet 130
Seas that sparkle in the sun
without its light would have no beauty;
but the light within your eyes
is theirs alone; it owes no duty.
And that flame, not half as bright,
is meant for me, and brings delight.
Coral formed beneath the sea,
though scarlet-tendriled, cannot warm me;
while your lips, not half so red,
just touching mine, at once inflame me.
And the searing flames your lips arouse
fathomless oceans fail to douse.
Bright roses’ brief affairs, declared
when winter comes, will wither quickly.
Your cheeks, though paler when compared
with them?—more lasting, never prickly.
And your cheeks, so dear and warm,
far vaster treasures, need no thorns.
I believe I wrote this poem as a college freshman, age 18.
With my daughter, by a waterfall
by Michael R. Burch
By a fountain that slowly shed
its rainbows of water, I led
my youngest daughter.
And the rhythm of the waves
that casually lazed
made her sleepy as I rocked her.
By that fountain I finally felt
fulfillment of which I had dreamt
feeling May’s warm breezes pelt
petals upon me.
And I held her close in the crook of my arm
as she slept, breathing harmony.
By a river that brazenly rolled,
my daughter and I strolled
toward the setting sun,
and the cadence of the cold,
chattering waters that flowed
reminded us both of an ancient song,
so we sang it together as we walked along
?unsure of the words, but sure of our love?
as a waterfall sighed and the sun died above.
This poem was published by my college literary journal, Homespun, in 1977. I believe I wrote around age 18.
Keywords/Tags: early, early poems, juvenilia, sun, red, lips, seas, light, flame, fire, oceans, roses, thorns, winter, cheeks, waterfall, daughter, rose, roses are red
I was born to love people, to be a traveler through their hidden hearts,
To discover the inner gardens, where the flowers of triumphs rise from the soil of sufferings.
Every smile evaluates me with a luminous chasm of hope,
Trying to reach the essence of their being, through each rain of buried memories.
To not be the one loved, but just the mirror that reflects their light,
Perceived as an echo in the silence of autumn leaves, writing poems in cold winds.
I was born to be the poet of shadows and scattered lights,
The one who catches the sparks in their eyes and hides them in intricate metaphors,
To touch the invisible strings of souls, weaving threads of a burdened destiny.
To break down their walls, with a delicate touch, sowing trust in barren places,
Without being seen, without being felt, but as a passing breeze,
Like the wind that leaves the harbor before dawn, leaving only calm silence behind.
I was meant to be part of the waves, not the one that lifts them toward the sky,
To float among ordinary people, an obscure presence under shifting shadows,
An entity among souls, not spreading storms of emotion, but only the echo of bygone times.
A pool of indistinct feelings, a lake of experiences lived in silence.
Somewhere, my gaze wanders to seek the depths,
But it hits the strict shores of harsh reality,
Perhaps being part of the wave was not just the people around,
But something profoundly missing within me, a void becoming ever vaster.
And so, in this journey infused with mysticism and lost hopes,
I weave every thought with threads of melancholy and magic,
Lost in the labyrinth of souls, weaving a secret and poetic universe,
In the heart of the waves, where my heart pulses under the enigmatic light of the moon,
I find the delicate thread of hope and follow it into a perpetual rebirth,
Toward an infinity where the heart intertwines with eternity.
Robert browning and Me (2)
Where was I with that book on Artemisia?
No Internet or Amazon back then,
So I got busy trudging round – then busier.
No joy. “American? We’ll call you when …”
“Import it from the States, you say? (sigh) “Sorry …”
That book to me was life-blood. From dry fact,
I knew I could carve angels. It was packed
with pure potential. It would be my quarry,
I, Michelangelo. But Florence called
(the city, not the girl). My summer break.
I’d soon be very happily installed
in Art’s sweet Heart. That book would have to take
a rain check. There were Browning things to see,
check out the places that the poet knew,
and stand where he stood (absolutely true!)
the day he found the Yellow Book. For me,
this part would be the climax. One fine day
in June of eighteen-sixty, Browning strolled
(the gods of poetry pointing out the way)
the Square of San Lorenzo – and struck gold!
He found a worn old book, and made the sale.
The record of a legal case with pleas,
submissions – this could be his masterpiece!
(A bit like mine, but on a vaster scale.)
So, there I was in San Lorenzo. If
my Artemisia project was on stall,
at least now I could breathe vicarious whiff
of Browning’s triumph. Oh, I was enthralled!
He read the lawyer’s brief as he walked home.
I traced his steps – down Giglio, Panzani, then
across the Arno at the bridge again –
(I caught a glimpse of Brunelleschi’s Dome)
and then it happened. Those poetic gods!
A bookstore on the Tornabuoni. (Time allows.
But what of Browning? Even Homer nods!
What harm, if I just sidle in and browse …?)
The book on Artemisia! Divine!
How many thousand lire? Hey, who cares?
So, I and Browning had our talents (tares?)
He used his well enough. Now I’ll try mine!
This planet whereon we reside
gave nature’s bounty far and wide.
We’ve seen our Mother Earth from space
who barely shows her fragile face
as Pale Blue Dot, sunbeam enshrined,
and still we humans are so blind.
The cosmic reaches hugely grand
are vaster than we understand.
We know not of a single place
where kindred creatures would be graced
with crucial features so combined.
But oh we humans are so blind.
We’ve self-importance off the scale,
self-interest beyond the pale,
yet if our sweep of self were more
than just what enters through our door
it could be good for all Mankind.
How can we humans be so blind?
If only we’d be even wise
enough to open tight shut eyes
and seek reality’s true guise
from whence awareness dawns arise,
a search within would surely find
that humans need not be so blind.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
“The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena… Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves… It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world… To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.”
From comments by Carl Sagan in his 1994 book, ‘Pale Blue Dot’…
We stand on the edges of the silence's abyss, you and I, in contemplation,
Looking at each other, but in silence, against the backdrop of a tumultuous world.
Separated by a deep silence, vaster than any chaos,
In this space between us, only our gazes intersect, speaking without words.
It's our silence's abyss, a chasm where words find no place,
Where the echoes of speech fade, where our hopes dim into shadows.
We try to build an imaginary bridge, but the stones find no rest,
In this void, only the whispers of the wind convey the truth of our silence.
We break the silence of dawn and dusk, with our eyes that speak,
Each blink deepens the abyss, each breath becomes an echo in the wilderness.
In this abyss of silence, we are like two solitary stars,
So close, yet without touching, we just gaze at each other.
Oh, I wonder, my beautiful, if this will always be our story,
Just looks thrown across this terrifying abyss.
Will this be our silent dialogue, an exchange of glances in eternal silence,
Is it our destiny to remain forever separated by this chasm?
Although sadness envelops me, seeing your eyes in silence,
Hope dawns in my heart, like a ray of sun in the darkness.
That maybe, just maybe, my beautiful, we will cross this abyss,
And the silence between us will become a song, the distance will turn into closeness.
Until then, I will continue to look at you from across the abyss of silence,
And even if words are lost, my gaze will whisper love to you.
In your eyes, my beautiful, I see a whole world waiting to be discovered,
And even in this silence, my soul sings to you, a melody of the heart.
In the abyss of silence, where thoughts are born like falling stars,
We let ourselves be carried by the invisible currents of unspoken dreams,
Searching among the shadows of time for a meaning that never arrives,
On untrodden paths where eternity weaves its webs.
In the cosmic dance of light and darkness, we find ourselves lost,
Each step is a call to the infinite that embraces us,
We feel the universe breathing through us, a silent symphony,
And the whispers of the stars dress our souls in mantles of dreams.
We repeat ancient incantations, decipher hidden enigmas in silence,
When the moon spills its silver over our ocean of desires,
And in the rustle of the night, we meet our shadow of the unknown,
For science has left us only the deep mystery, vaster than ever.
In cosmic solitude, we sway on wings of forgotten illusions,
Seeking the light that flickers in the unknown depths of the mind,
Invisible connections are woven, uniting the soul with the entire universe,
And in this labyrinth of stars, we lose ourselves to find ourselves eternally.
We watch how silence dances among the shadows of unfulfilled dreams,
And every atom becomes an unwritten story in the book of time,
We are wanderers on the endless paths of divine knowledge,
Embracing the chaos that reveals the hidden harmony within us.
Every word becomes a gateway to an unexplored universe,
Where light and darkness merge into a symphony of longing,
In the rhythm of eternity, we seek answers in the echo of silence,
And in this journey, we find ourselves in the cosmic infinite.
The old Hittite came through the gate
Battle sharp and dripping
With the blackness of an Ethiopian night
The Kingdom of Zion to replicate
The compass star of David's sight
And through that gate walked with him
A destiny invisible of all the world
The crisis of a man by sin made grim
And vaster yet
A family's sun about to set
In immense sea, a national grief
Beyond mere historic proportions.
Raising Yahweh's standard the Hittite went
Sent by a virtue spent
With shadowless sword against masked Ammonites
And she the vessel of his heart
Dripping the sapphire of her African skies
Her purging task did initiate
Before the uncurtained eyes of Israel's prying king
How she daggered his faith
And staggered him like eddying dust
Crawling before the throne of savage lust
Her beauty and her will to yield -
This limping, shallow Vashti overthrown
Sealed Uriah's fate
Great warrior of the ancient clan of God
Yahweh's noble steward
Canaan's scion and stem of mystery
Conscripted to a Gentile race
Dravidian's doomed cornerstone
Summoned from the battle heat
Had no trumpet in his heart to blast retreat
And suffered where his soldiers like victors hold
Where Jacob slept without a sheet
The light from beauty's breast is cold
A common curse and old
And did not know
When sent away defied because he would not relent
That in his hands like in our genes
He carried that cold warrant of his own death
And the prophetic time
When Israel's sun would set
Within the mind we are confined;
the body shuts us in.
And sadly sometimes humankind
throughout its thick and thin
has suffered serious disease
that tests our mortal grip
on evolution’s risky seas
to keep afloat our ship.
These illnesses that sweep the sphere,
pandemics they are called,
can cause our lives to seem austere
with daily doings stalled
when staying home becomes the norm
while ‘sheltering in place’,
and time is spent in altered form,
which some find hard to face.
Yet if our point of view we change
to vaster span beyond,
confinement needn’t be close range.
With fancy’s magic wand
we see we’re quarantined as well
inside the Milky Way,
confined in solar system’s shell
by Goldilocks’s sway.
The universe can furthermore
be added to the scope
with stellar regions by the score,
in cosmic envelope.
And lest we limit our own role
within a greater plot
to play a part of nature’s whole
on pale blue earthly dot,
neuronal networks of our brains
have quite a kindred look
to grand stelliferous domains,
galactic paths they took.
So, though confined the present seems,
still myriad may be
our future starry-visioned dreams
come true we’ve yet to see…
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * *
Inspiration was derived from the COVID-19 pandemic…
A further inspiration derived from the article in Science Alert titled “Study Maps The Odd Structural Similarities Between The Human Brain And The Universe”…
See the Sky which is vaster than the Sea,
We are all given by that miraculous glee,
Fee for that is not even a single Rupee,
He is blessing you and of course me!
Delight gives Sky in the dark night,
Sight shows God's infinite might,
Fight men angrily with no foresight,
Height of ignorance is their plight!
Sky takes those who at last die,
Fly toward it souls cutting the tie,
Eye of God watches to wisely pry,
Lie is made by Him to deeply cry!
Blue Sky when you daily view,
New ideas come to rescue,
You will get peace that is due,
Few only enjoy this interview!
Rain and Sun will nicely explain,
Gain superbly all of us obtain,
Chain of clouds. God does train,
Again and again, a fine bargain!
Providence has Sky-residence,
Evidence is this for His existence,
Prudence must overtake ignorance,
Alliance with God carries sense!
One piece is this Sky giving peace,
Please pray by bending the knees,
Fees are never asked to kindly ease,
Increase faith during this life-lease!
Pray and a kind word always say,
Obey good morals in every way,
Stay with faith and hope everyday,
Convey to God without any delay!
Firmament is the only Government,
Imminent is its holy management,
Commitment to it brings improvement,
Agreement with it gives merriment!
Look at the Sky, don't overlook,
Book boons including holy luck,
Struck is peace along with pluck,
Trick of fate fails due to His magic!
Loneliness is just an ivy,
It creeps through your window, unhurried,
It doesn't diminish the darkness of the night, nor chase away hidden demons,
It just sits there, with legs crossed, letting the gentle breeze
Kiss its damp alabaster cheeks and the black night envelop it.
It seems sad when it sighs, but its eyes carry a strange peace,
It changes nothing outside, but changes everything deep within you,
It makes the eyes more sensitive to the beauty of the night,
It makes every little thing stand out so magnificently,
That life seems vaster than ever.
Is it her or the trauma of existence?
She casts such a spectacular charm that those who gaze
Into her stormy ocean eyes don't want to part,
From the night, from her — she is just another bright star
In a new moon night. Solitary,
Melancholic, yet beautiful.
In her silence hides a universe of thoughts and dreams,
A mute call to those who dare to listen,
An invitation to embrace not just the darkness, but also its light,
For in her melancholy, you discover a subtle beauty,
That turns solitude into a refuge full of wisdom.
And so, loneliness becomes an unexpected companion,
A silent friend that teaches you to look beyond appearances,
To discover that in the silence of the night lies a whole world,
A world waiting to be explored, loved, and understood,
Under the gentle gaze of that solitary star, shining for you.