BURYING BRAIDED DESPAIR
AND RESURRECTING ASCENDING HOPE
Last night’s dream,
Was as if that sneaking nightmare, despair;
Always teasing the unaware mind
In a wandering, flowing stream:-
Rising today, I took strands of despair,
And braided them into hope-plaits;
I then took those plaits and buried them:
Tears watering their graves:-
Hope budded and blossomed,
As petals of audacious faith glistened:-
And in the bright sunshine of the new dawn’s dawning,
Meadows of forget-me-not also bloomed; and in fields of ourstory,
Butterflies feasted on encouraging truth, rather than lying history;
Cocooning hope now hangs on my mind’s branches of time:-
LIFE, WAR, AND RESURRECTING PEACE
When I left the womb,
The First World War had ended,
And life was waxing:-
Today, my life is waning:
A new World War is waxing:-
The wars in between
Had collateral damage,
But little concern:
Monetary gains shared;
Likewise, great shared world powers:-
Today however,
Power-mongering warrior
Seeks supremacy:
Both here at home, as well as
Throughout all of today’s world:-
I may not be here,
But have faith in God’s guidance
Navigating us:
This Lenten-warring season,
Will know resurrecting peace:-
Be in awareness:
War seeks to bomb out love:
Collateraling peace:-
With love’s ascending ashes,
Go and resurrect world peace:-
A RESURRECTING REFLECTION ON TODAY’S TRIBULATIONS
Confirming its intent
And what it all meant
The POTUS spoke loudly
With very proud temerity
Of making a mockery
Out of chattel slavery
By invading another country
With evil military occupancy
Controlling its humanity
And its rich resources
With his powerful armed forces:
But let us not be dismayed
Over this power-mongering raid
That God’s retribution will overcome
This demonic decision that was made:
This crucifying, unjust political insurrection
Will likewise be met with justice’s resurrection
And the ascension of God’s divine wisdom and guidance
Navigating us in life along a pathway of divine benevolence:-
Soul’s creative urge springs forth from our heart,
with childlike intent to sing a love song,
which however no sooner does so start,
wayward ego sounds an ominous gong,
stating head, not heart, is where we belong,
thus strangling the rhythm before it is born,
so what could have been, falls to ego’s scorn
but be this as it may, we have our way,
invoking God’s grace, that bliss may adorn,
throb of innocence that turns night to day.
Resurrecting Passion
by Michael R. Burch
Last night, while dawn was far away
and rain streaked gray, tumescent skies,
as thunder boomed and lightning railed,
I conjured words, where passion failed...
But, oh, that you were mine tonight,
sprawled in this bed, held in these arms,
your breasts pale baubles in my hands,
our bodies bent to old demands...
Such passions we might resurrect,
if only time and distance waned
and brought us back together; now
I pray these things might be, somehow.
But time has left us twisted, torn,
and we are more apart than miles.
How have you come to be so far—
as distant as an unseen star?
So that, while dawn is far away,
my thoughts might not return to you,
I feed your portrait to the flames,
but as they feast, I burn for you.
Published in Songs of Innocence and The Chained Muse
Resurrecting Longfellow
Relegated as a minor poet
Longfellow's Psalm
returns as memory
from a long-ago classroom..
Is it time to look again..?
Two verses may suffice..
In our real experience
dreams and waking
share one reality:
each are manifestations
of the finite mind
which rises within our Self
(and in astonishment
for the material-minded)
are made of our Self..
Indeed..this experience
awakens us from slumber
and at last we discover
things are not what they seem..
Our Self
not the confined self
(which our culture assigns)
is our true identity..
The Self..well..of course
is not made of dust
is not destined
for the grave...!
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
For the complete poem, A Psalm of Live,
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, use
this link:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44644/a-psalm-of-life
THE RESURRECTING, RESURRECTION
WAS RE-ENACTED TO PROVE THE PROPHETS CORRECT
THAT WHEN ONE DIES, ONE IS RESURRECTED
FOR RESURRECTION IS THE FATE FOR ALL
WHO BELIEVES THAT RESURRECTING DOES OCCUR?
FOR MAN WAS WALKING THEN
AS HE STILL DOES TODAY
DOWN A SPIRALING PATH
LOST IN THE MAKING OF HIS OWN DOWNFALL
AND THE RESURRECTION WAS THE PATH OF REDEMPTION
RE-ENACTED TO PROVE MAN HIS WORTH
FOR IN THE SPIRIT IMAGE OF HIS FATHER
WAS HE BORN TO WALK AND TOIL THIS EARTH.
AND THE PATH OF HIS SPIRIT IMAGE TO REGAIN
FOR THE FATHER’S NAME, MUST BE HELD HIGH TO REIGN.
FOR ANY MAN HERE ON THIS EARTH
WHO DENIES THE FATHER, HIS GOD OF ALL
IS DENYING THE SELF OF HIMSELF
AND IN DARKNESS TO FLOUNDER ABOUT
TILL HE REALIZES ONCE AGAIN HIS WORTH
FOR NO MAN IS CONDEMNED FOREVER
BY THE FATHER OF LOVE
FOR ALL HIS CHILDREN WILL ONE DAY
GO HOME AGAIN, TO THE FATHER ABOVE
AS THE PARABLE, OF THE PRODIGAL SON WAS ONCE TOLD.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.