hymn to Apollo
by Michael R. Burch
something of sunshine attracted my i
as it lazed on the afternoon sky,
golden,
splashed on the easel of god . . .
what,
i thought,
could this airy stuff be,
to, phantomlike,
flit through tall trees
on fall days, such as these?
and the breeze
whispered a dirge
to the vanishing light;
enchoired with the evening, it sang;
its voice
enchantedly
rang
chanting “Night!” . . .
till all the bright light
retired,
expired.
This poem appeared in my high school literary journal; I believe I was around 16 when I wrote it.
Categories:
phantomlike, autumn, color, earth, light,
Form: Free verse
We've become so used to monsters,
Camouflaged as purple-shaded immortal beings;
That we've simply overlooked,
Our human capabilities of solidarity.
We've disposed of the warmth we once shared,
And instead left each other alone;
With only our demons and mental insecurities,
To shatter even the minute pieces of integrity in our soul.
Out feelings have become so volatile,
That they even evaporate in front of our eyes sometimes;
Then reconstitute, only to melt away again,
Further strengthening the rebellion in our squirming silhouette of a mind.
Yet in the expanse of time, we'll be nothing,
Materialism however seems to consume all our senses,
Like an unintelligible whisper in a silent room,
Reality only makes a phantomlike touch on our finger tips.
Categories:
phantomlike, allusion, deep, depression, emotions,
Form: I do not know?
A creature awakens
intangible in the haze;
a fleeting idea by faint, phantomlike, light.
Silver bars on charcoal clay
scarce, and inadequate
haunting, but in a soothing way.
Rustling bones chatter
a murmured chant just within earshot
lullabies for dream weavers
hushed and eerie.
Goose-pimpled skin bites back at the breeze
effortlessly gliding through
catching faint glimpses
which slip away just before taking form.
Somewhere a lantern burns
a glass walled prison.
Inmates dressed in dancing orange jumpsuits
convicted killers of predawn blues.
Light for light.
Gold for silver.
A creature retreats
intangible still
on the edge of a dream
to be forgotten by day.
Categories:
phantomlike, blue, confusion, dance, dark,
Form: Free verse
The harvest moon rises
The veins on it reflect different phantomlike spiritual ages
Of different spiritual classes auras
Each vein with supernatural power blazes
The evolution from point of view of the last out of soul
Environment being idea of baseless evolution also from point of view of that soul
The out of spirit evolution all connected and by that invented higher on the lower classes will fall
The processes increase and change until they fill abyss whole
On the other side imagination without base
With only non spiritual idea of not needing base imagination as reference looks through space
The non spiritual but concept of pure meaning finds its place
But unlike the spiritual evolution it does not need to start a race
Because from simples reference to evolution of spirit point of view mentioned above
The meaning of not needing base imagination is equal like wings of the dove
And from all points of view higher then spiritual evolution it is equal to the simplest view of
Because it is ultimate spectrum found only in the eyes of greatest love
Categories:
phantomlike, fantasy,
Form: Rhyme