Time Range Poems

Cowpoke
by Michael R. Burch, circa age 16

Sleep, old man...
your day has long since passed.
The endless plains,
cool midnight rains
and changeless ragged cows
alone remain
of what once was.

You...

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And Throughout Vast Purple Range, Visions Cascade Down

No fictive dream deludes for now, so her heart bleeds
And weeping spirit no comfort dares to arrive
She that...

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I was much involved in this thing.
You mustn’t forget that at all.
So, you stop arguing with me:
For another time your challenge…

Easy to enter fighters’ ring,
Their...

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*** SINGING MEMORIES ***

“Many days you have lingered around my cabin door.
Hard times, come again no more.” **

A memory came flying through to me this...

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On Diego Martin lowlands time passes
  slowly with such dear fancy not yet dimmed,
licking the sticky raw cane molasses,
  the pulp and juice...

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Face of the Flatirons mountain range
Awakens
To the pre-dawn of the Colorado sun
A charcoal sketch
Scribbled to life from a meadow of pale paper

I wade waist-high in...

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Pink skies top off the dark mountain range
I wonder about wandering all the way there
Just to discover a few things, I’d like to know
Feel the...

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Lost in the ocean 
amidst an endless sea,
Hanging around my neck 
is a locket and key,
Picture dwells inside
no big mystery,
Portrait of you, 
but it belongs...

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The cold wind of the Antarctic
Cut any warmth from the sun
We have come to measure the world warming 
That has been melting the ice away...

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all of them lied to him
creating a world that made him
ideal to be victim to whatever
they wished of him
the woman they allowed him to
believe loved...

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...she kept her heart on a chain
never let it run mad like it was born to do
she kept her head in a box
never let it...

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This is my dedication

I am legend, so just push the start
I will save your family, so just call me Noah's ark
A pause on time as...

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The first time we danced I knew I was hooked 
My palms were sweaty, my brain was cooked 
I breathed only you as you captured...

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Free-range poets
feeding on loneliness
writing in their openness

Oh, sing me broken lullabies
take me to the open skies
write in blood, "Why am I dying?"
like I don't already...

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Often my thoughts do range far and wide.
But it’s not just my thoughts that skim the tides.
When my Hubby asks and I don’t reply…
He says...

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