As the ocean into which rivers merge,
the gong of Om swallows the universe,
which when willed causes it to reemerge,
heart magically conjuring a verse,
without any need for it to rehearse.
As the Self wherefrom the gong arises,
let us embrace God’s offered surprises.
You take my silence
as coldness, as indifference even—
but if you listen very closely
I am reciting to my universes
the sheer love I have for you
in every line and every word.
Recorded are words to be repeated
Mark Twain once said:
History doesn’t repeat itself, it rhymes.
Bouncing through time is our history,
that only follows through memories,
We create our own history.
Repeating not exactly those memories,
to do over time after time, is
repeating a rhyme twice, over time.
I once was showed how,
I then did it twice
Repeating history
The Poet's Condition
by Michael R. Burch
(for my mother, Christine Ena Burch)
The poet's condition
(bother tradition)
is whining contrition.
Supposedly sage,
his editor knows
his brain's in his toes
though he would suppose
to soon be the rage.
His readers are sure
his work's premature
or merely manure,
insipidly trite.
His mother alone
will answer the phone
(perhaps with a moan)
to hear him recite.
Alternate Title: "Poetry Slam: The Hangup"
Keywords/Tags: poet, poets, poems, poetry, poetic expression, rhyme, editor, publisher, mother, readers, recite, recitation, reciting, performance, writing, reading, rap, slam, phone, telephone
reciting lessons
during carol burnett show
queen of improv
posted on June 22, 2018
Someone reciting a rhyme
Rhyme about moon of sky
And a viewer from the earth
Every night he view moon
Story of that silent viewer
And his unidentified search
Its feel as like he do love with moon
But moon is too far in sky
He sometime view moon in water
But while he try to touch
Image of moon go hide
What you can say about his madness
He is crazy about white beauty
Want to bring moon on earth
But that desire is impossible
That desire couldn’t fulfill
What I learn from this rhyme
It was a tale of innocent love
I did cross the rivers, many times
the rivers dance gracefully,
and I am watching eagerly,
the romantic garden of birds
then, they fly.
It’s a new year today,
a first day of the year
I sat to look at the sky.
then, I fly.
I can only see the dark
that’s when there is a light
as I wanted to keep writing,
my left hand stops for a break
then I started reading.
I recited with the sky,
the metaphors of life
then said the sky,
never, you leave me alone
then said, alone, alone above!
AK6499. Inflight. S-KK
1 January 2016. 8:35PM
I did cross the rivers, many times
the rivers dance gracefully,
and I am watching eagerly,
the romantic garden of birds
then, they fly.
It’s a new year today,
a first day of the year
I sat to look at the sky.
then, I fly.
I can only see the dark
that’s when there is a light
as I wanted to keep writing,
my left hand stops for a break
then I started reading.
I recited with the sky,
the metaphors of life
then said the sky,
never, you leave me alone
then said, alone, alone above!
AK6499. Inflight. S-KK
1 January 2016. 8:35PM
He spits verses out of his mouth
like a spider weaves a web
between twigs in the early morning sunlight
No one cares his verses
but he continues to spit them out
like a spider clutches its web with his hind claw
Whether there’s a audience or not,
he has to recite it because only the verses
escape from his lips is the proof that he’s alive