Short Impassive Poems

Darkness impassive
hopeful to hide from its view
I am always found...

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Waves refuse to cease,
Kissing impassive shorelines:
Countless refusals....

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invert & impassive,

moon reflective like.. shadow"

taste blossom; copper chablis.....

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in the closet
ironed
impassive clothes
just eager for
my gestures
sophisticated
of Sunday...
 How sad... !
I am
pure routine
of mondays
disorganized,
but ecstatic......

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POIGNANCE
  magniicence
vivid
towering
eloquently
glowing
heraLding
  alternatives
lies
impassive
 passionless

an
established
longing
&
celebration
of
an
exact
moving
restraint...

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I was looking for a passage
in your misty eyes
Bridges was broken in dreams
quiet,impassive

the knives cut the ropes
everyone is unaware
wooden bridges no longer exists
stories end at the end
brytal,rebel...

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Version 1


    wind-uprooted trees

lie huddled on the ground

      he hones his axe


Version 2


      wind-uprooted trees

lie on the ground - impassive

         he hones his axe

---------------------------------


*Any preference?...

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Plain tired bun at the back of your hair

Impassive brow, the hint of a smile

Afternoon eye full of luminous stare

A small brooding hand rugged with work

Burrowing into a lap full of care

Crossed legs, covered knee deep as the sea

Lady, how do I dare...

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There it was, 
Slowly drifting
Above the blue waters. 
Abandoned.
Emotionless.
Lifeless.

There it was, 
Laying still
Under the cruel skies. 
Stagnant.
Alone.
Apathetic.

There it was, 
Sluggishly floating
Amidst ebb tides. 
Directionless.
Hopeless.
Impassive....

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Plying depravity from a string of unblemished guile,
Candor and virtues put on trial.
Mute complications hang the impassive jury,
Corrupt verdicts subjugate while the ingenuous worry.
Grasping for lone echos left by forgiveness and mercy,
Abolish authenticity with fallacy bred controversy....

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Look around at the golden hues
shades ever changing

now look at the world, with its
blackening brow
dying embers of autumn flame

darker days are looming
the deepening rain storms
throwing down opaque
minions, thump
thumping the ground
wetting parched lips of
impassive need

just trying to survive....

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You capture me with your radiant smile 
Hearty bold laugh impassive and vexing
Little grey hairs in your barely there beard
Needling your chocolate chin for years
Your artistic style and fashion sense
In a suit that could pay purple rent
Of course you write and to my delight
You include me in the story of your life...

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Is not this well-worn path
more than just a journey
   or a destination?

We have a yearning
for appreciation;
some soul to reminisce us
fondly as a friend;

a warm memory or two.


Asinine the impassive life
devoid these things in time;
destined to that lonely land

   so sorrowfully  and bitterly....

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Listen to poem:

Precariously poised on 
the precipitous precipice,
I pondered whether a nose-dive plummet
into the whirlpool lagoon below
was prudent, well-advised and provident.
But the angry impassive persona,
of the ever so cross porpoises,
seen purposefully prancing there
gawking up at me,
persuaded me to prudently, 
postpone the plunge....

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Look to the horizon
And see what's left of day,
A quiet dissolution
Of the thoughts that came our way.

The past is etched in memory
Like a sculpture in the sand;
Slowly it is worn away
By time's impassive hand.

'Til in some future moment,
When we trace a memory,
The detail will escape us
Like the sand that's washed to sea....

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Never pass...
Never fade...
Unestinguished
What is ignited
So it lasts...
Price I paid...
Can't relinguish
What's so inviting.
Can't endure your impassive state
So elusive, so forbidden
And I run from my fate
To remain forever hidden.
So I rage
And I hate
Then I break down
And I tremble
Never pass...
Never fade... 
I still live
I remember....

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Nothing Returns
by Michael R. Burch

A wave implodes,
impaled upon
impassive rocks . . .

this evening
the thunder of the sea
is a wild music filling my ear . . .

you are leaving
and the ungrieving
winds demur:

telling me
that nothing returns
as it was before,

here where you have left no mark
upon this dark
Heraclitean shore....

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Write poetry and remain a virgin,
it doesn't seem  a human thing...
break the light and continue
in the shadow, it doesn't seem  a thing
of poet...
touch the wounds
and to remain impassive is not a humanist character
and it's not poetry,
but it looks  psychopathy...
also making love without loving
or is it animal instinct,
or is it an escape... !...

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His busy days and nights
His sweat, his sunburned skin
Empty stomach
was in rebellion.

His sorrowful mind
His sordid heart
His god from some deep delve hidden
Was in soothe.

But she was utter impassive
Never spoke a word
Never thanked him
Or cried.

Silently she stood by
Listened to his gasps
And at the end stared at him.

That's how a day was made....

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If you knew me for just me
The being deep inside
Timid and detached
The emotional being inside me,
Would you?

If you knew me for just me
The being deep inside
Insensitive and reticent
The unwitting being inside me
Would you?

If you knew me for just me
The being deep inside me
Impassive and plain
The opposite of the outward me
Would you still accept me?
Would you?...

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A Sonnet begets life.
     Joy, her child, leaves her womb,
     bliss that transcends the tomb
and dulls the Reaper's scythe!
Ah! Joy belittles strife;
     delight, as from bedrooms
     (without impassive gloom),
makes mother of a wife.
When bards compose, ardent
     wax the virgin Sonnets
with their pens: eloquent
     the more, beauty begets
desire; then makes pregnant
     with Joy which ne'er forfeits....

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The city holds it’s breath
Waiting
Anticipating
It looks at the moon
Indecisive
The moon smiles,
Cruel
What shall I do next?
It gets darker,
And the city is scared
The sun sits,
Impassive
The moon approaches
The city screams before-
Darkness
Unnatural darkness
And the moon is unapologetic
And the sun is powerless against it’s child
The city begins to die,
But the moon is merciful
It moves, 
And there is light again....

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Mind is brimming with gloom and fears 
Waiting to be "heard" or "seen" through tears
The burden of which rheumy eyes couldn't bear
When cruel judgments reach the empty ears
Coming from the mouth of impassive peers 
resulting in crushing poor souls for years
By putting a leash on ever-ready tears 
We manage to hide and cherish our fears
A fake smile is what the mouth often wears,
all set to utter ceaseless  "CHEERS"...

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Am I joyful, or am I somber?
Am I radiant, or recoiling?
Do I reach out to you, or do I hide? 
Can you tell? Will I decide?

Am I simple, or am I puzzling?
Do I caress you, or keep my distance?
Am I your true love, or just a stranger?
Will you ever know? Will I ever surrender?

Am I warm to you, or cold, impassive?
Do I allow you into me, or elude you?
Will I ever reveal myself to you, or for ever shut you out?
Please don't give up. 
Keep looking, stranger, my true love....

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