Long Warbling Poems

Beckoning
by Michael R. Burch 
 
Yesterday the wind whispered my name
while the blazing locks
of her rampant mane
lay heavy on mine.
And yesterday
I saw the way
the wind caressed tall pines
in forests laced by glinting streams
and thick with...

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Various Heresies 2

You
by Michael R. Burch

For thirty years You have not spoken to me;
I heard the dull hollow echo of silence
as though strange communion between us.

For thirty years You would not open to me;
You remained...

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A GIFT FOR EVERYONE 
ESPECIALLY 
FOR  CHILDREN
 


The Mulberry Tree & its Birds


IMPORTANT NOTE:
Now watch a short Video film made by me (placed on my Music Channel on You Tube) based on this Poetic...

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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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Neigh say being  corralled & cult shod 

"Sic semper evello mortem tyrannis"
translation = thus always I 
bring death to tyrants.”

Above the fray of twittering, 
squabbling, and madding crowds,
an arrogantly belligerent creature deified, 
yet vilified...

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Inferiority complex as a kid, adolescent and emerging adult

Yours truly (an amazingly,
gracefully, and markedly modest
passively aging baby boomer -
formerly introverted long haired
pencil necked geek),
prattling wordsmith doth behold
nostalgic memories regarding father
(Boyce Brandon Harris)
long ago lapsed decades

during...

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And I begin my own steep climb into 
The Chalkland Downs                        ...

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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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I want more solstice evening silhouettes.
And nights of rhapsody filled with rental stars.
To explore blurred mornings when the sun rises.
With transitions dripping through the trees.

I want to know how the seasons change.
Who makes time a...

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I had never before glimpsed the sea, and I had often felt the lack,
As rainbows sense the lack of luster, so they keep on coming back.

I dwelled in a pastoral area, quite far from any...

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index finger of left hand
     (likened to Michelangelo
meticulously chiseling away
     at marble block), this poe
whit attempts to coax (zealously
     tap into his latent...

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You've visited me after a long time: Remember; once, I was brimming with might? Named babbling brook, revered as a singing deity, how blissful was my sight! Have reminiscences of your childhood, in my mellow...

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I've spent so much time trying to write a good poem, that I've ignored the possibility of
BAD POETRY.

Bad poetry,
the soul speaks in cat-whispers,
I meow one back,
The garden bleeds living colour,
I sprout something too, words,
and if...

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Yours truly (an amazingly,
gracefully, and markedly modest
passively aging baby boomer -
formerly introverted long haired
pencil necked geek),
prattling wordsmith doth behold
nostalgic memories regarding father
(Boyce Brandon Harris)
long ago lapsed decades

during papa's prime time
many years past when complacence
existed about...

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A single branch, clawed and pecked, fickle and straining,
Lonely Nestling and father, paw and peck at their home
Lonely branch, spasms in the wind
Nestling and father paw and peck, yearn and whimper
These Flightless Birds, on a...

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Estranged to a lonely room
Littered with trash and splattered gloom
Fettered and sentenced to early doom
Distressed and distraught to a sordid mood
Creeps and crawls and stalks at night

To make sure the windows latched
To make sure the...

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(Written by Mpho Leteng & Jennifer Legotlwane, edited by Onalethuso Petrus Ntema)

1. So you are still out-and-out with that old passion?
I look cogently at you actively warbling that song, unchanged, 
You sing out the aridity...

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Her hair- black as a raven’s breast 
   Eyes glowing through orbs of green 
She dances covertly in the dark of night 
    Where not another soul is seen 
Warbling...

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TAKE A STROLL
by

JOHN M. ARRIBAS



Take a stroll through the forest in early spring
Nature will stun you,  it’s a beautiful thing
A walk in the woods will fill you with awe
The fresh smelling air not savored...

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Poem for Eula Davis

October 8, 2013 at 8:39am


 
POEM FOR EULA DAVIS
 
 
A very throaty Warbler issued
Quavering Trills in a morning song -  
As he serenaded the dew
drops on the grateful trees
 
Other...

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Sitting in bed.

It’s time for sleep, shower first.
Three baskets of clean clothes, bedside.
Cats' nocturnal sport rumbling across the wood floor, mother pouncing daughter, chasing rubber balls.

Tinnitus and the sound of air whuffing through the ventworks....

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Hmm...What Discursive Poetic Theme Shall I Write About...

Today (a rather brisk, chilly,
and otherwise sat
tiss factory twirly delightful
December 18th, 2018) matte
her of fact quite
refreshing noontime, while this fat

tend plot of Earthen surveyed terrain
situated over scat
herd modest...

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POEM FOR EUNA DAVIS

 A very throaty Warbler issued
Quavering Trills in a morning song -  
As he serenaded the dew
drops on the grateful trees
 
Other birds were answering with
songs of praise from familiar days.
No...

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The pin oak leaves from dormant trees, 
fall on this crisp autumn morn,
as I paint the scene of an artist’s dream;
in my mind this landscapes born.
The patch work green is this valleys scene,
with broken squares...

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YESTERDAY WHEN I WAS DUMB - A Benign Parody

(with sincere enough apologies and more to those who made the original composition an all-time great. T. Wignesan)

Refrain :

Yesterday when I was dumb
I couldn't tell a song...

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