Depression Snow Poems

Frost born muse—
Fingers paced, but of
Clouds gone by...
...

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Left alone, halo hung;
Midst the nightly waves,
Stars in the sky strung
Above the quiet graves.

Just take a chance
In your shallow disguise,
With a mere glance
Into her hallow...

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So why is the race of man and god 

Ever selfish and without remorse,

Why do they often stand idly by, watching as one is beaten...

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Winds will cease their sloppy blows
And the sky will spray its hose
Inside my heart remains warm
Inside I see a new storm

Children will play in their...

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is this the magic of Christmas?
weighing yourself before the festivities begin
eyes on every calorie you consume
smelling the food you know you’ll never eat
it’s a vicious...

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I apologize perfusely,
seasonal depression creeps in and I become distant. 

I use the term existence loosely, 
as I slowly retreat and become resistant. 

The winter...

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the sodium arc light hums 
into the frosted night
Bathing all in acidic 
sickly amber that of a toxic wound, 
splashing through the skeletal trees 

the...

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It falls softly as it tumbles...
Down from the sky darkly...
Deep in the heart of midnight.

Not a deity stirs at this moment out of time.
As young...

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Spring Was Delayed
by Michael R. Burch 

Winter came early:
the driving snows,
the delicate frosts
that crystallize

all we forget
or refuse to know,
all we regret
that makes us wise.

Spring was...

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In another few hours 
Sex and blood N murder
Digging up bones
A smear of mascara 
Digging up bones
In another few hours
As snow falls silently on stone
The...

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I loved her, my heart, when heavy, she lifted it...
sending it floating like a feather in the still of day 

But I hated her, when...

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In the winter I realize 
I became a cat moving from one cozy spot to the next. 
I stretch and lay. 

I watch the snowfall...

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I am in the winter 
of my life feeling snow 
Soft as it falls 
my façade cracks 
Ice does find its way 
deep into the...

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Weapons of mass fury
Locked and loaded 
watching the media Snow 
falling on tombstones

Blinding the world 
fury for the masses 
raise our glasses pour the wine...

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Cool is the evening air that touches 
my face standing there 
viewing time ebb and flow,
Memories. 

Run their course as a tear traces 
my countenance...

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