Earthquakes of bedlam quell
As tectonic plates of emotional instability cease shifting.
The tears of a discarded clown, suspended in animation—
Numbness overtakes.
Masks slip, shattering.
Shards scrape, lacerating apathetic flesh,
Revealing the painted doll underneath.
Remove its colourful costume;
Discover marionette strings embedded within a fraying back.
Strip the howling voices from its waking nightmares.
Feel deadening voids devour any morsel left of a wounded heart,
Whilst balmy plasma metamorphoses into gelid hemoglobin,
Hardening undying devotion into frigid detest.
Titanium walls, reinforced with razor wire, barricade a hollow soul.
For she was mere amusement for the indoctrinated masses—
An illusion of happiness, playing day in and day out.
Listen, as her inviting laugh transmutes into the cackle of hyenas.
Watch the paint, plastered upon an unwilling face, crack one last time.
Her eleventh hour has arrived.
Bear witness to the merciless statuette you birthed.
Love’s everywhere, o’er the ground, in the air
Hark birds singing with harmonious flair
Whiff it in floral sweet scented perfume
Of flowers dancing to earth’s tranquil tune.
Love is in the statuette stately trees
In the fluttering of whispering leaves
It’s in buzzing of busy honey bees
Collecting nectar with stupendous ease.
Glimpse love in children, joyful and adored
Facing a world waiting to be explored
Hear love in words that are gently spoken
Feel it in deeds that stir one’s emotion.
Taste the love when food is graciously served
Cooked with enthusiastic mirth observed
Savour the love in succulent fruit juice
Sip it in wine from harvested produce.
Express love of heart to those near and dear
Never cause a reason to shed a tear.
I was sitting in my gallery
Nurturing my plants, watering them
A little sweet sparrow arrived
And landed on my shoulder
I got alert so that she didn't fly away
I behaved like a statuette
She kissed me on my cheeks with her beak,
I was astonished,I said thank you , please come again on next week
She chirped in my ear
And went away far from here
Who would have thought?
This early morning would unearth raw gem
I would see history, mystery, and strength
An Ebony statuette so adorned,
The Queen of Sheba would seem nude,
But you were captured in simplicity,
Conservative for sure.
Who would have thought?
My adventure would stretch, and
Swell beyond the beach, beyond the hills -
You showed my curious hurting self, flowers, not arrows.
Who would have thought?
I'd have you accompanying me
My mind in revere, looking
Stretched beyond darkness I'd once seen
The weight of earthy raw gems, as
Lovely as eager hands of worth.
*
The black stallion is the
Most beautiful horse in the world
His black shiny coat
Glows with power and
His strength stands out
His strong legs moves
Like lighting and it makes
Him run like he floating on air
His stance is statuette
Which makes him mystical and
The leader of the pack
The black stallion is the
Most beautiful horse in the world
His black shiny coat
Glows with power and
His strength stands out
His strong legs moves
Like lighting and it makes
Him run like he floating on air
His stance is statuette
Which makes him mystical and
The leader of the pack
Success
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy
We need our children to keep us humble
between toast and marmalade;
there is no time for a ticker-tape parade
before bed, no award, no bright statuette
to be delivered for mending skinned knees,
no wild bursts of approval for shoveling snow.
A kiss is the only approval they show;
to leave us?the first great success they achieve.
I wrote this poem after fixing my son Jeremy some toast and getting a kiss in return. The “marmalade” is poetic license; it was actually toast with butter and jam, or maybe peanut butter and jam. Keywords/Tags: Child, Children, Childhood, Son, Sons, Sonhood, Boy, Boys, Boyhood, Father, Fathers, Fatherhood, Parent, Parents, Parenthood, Parenting, Family, Families, Family Life, Growing Up, Testing Wings, Empty Nest Syndrome
If I am the judge of my art
That I sculpted chiseling my soul
I know my emotions profusely fall as verses upon pages
I pick metaphors facing brain storm
I look for muses groping through thick mist of autumn
To get the final statuette of my poem
So ,if I am honoured the judge's chair
I would use fair judgement to give it a placement
12/03/2019
Sailing On An Ocean Narrow
Sailing can be so much fun especially with a loved one
I view an impish grin upon the silvery moon with glowing embers
Come sail away with me on the crimson tide of September
Your fine statuette and physic as I view neath the sun
On an azure evening, these tides will be caught in a prison
neath the starlit skies, the calm shall guide us to sea
Caught in the aftermath to which our true hearts
Will sail away like an ocean breeze of fantasy
Sailing can be like I'm walking and floating in a meadow
with you by my side, I'd be captivated by your romantic shadow
Come sail away within a silvery moon with you on an ocean narrow.
Come sail away within a silvery moon with you on an ocean narrow.
04/15/2018
Evelyn
axiomatic altruistic asseveration
her striking vehement grudge
that suspicious selfless statuette
was ample to prejudge
axiomatic altruistic asseveration
her evident disinterest
those envied eyes effectuated
clear patent of mistrust
axiomatic altruistic asseveration
her gestures vivid conveyed
that grim garland graded
sharply as she frayed
axiomatic altruistic asseveration
her warning vibrantly hurled
those scintillating spectrum spirits
are separate from our world!
It all started with a bet
Inside a launderette
Over a cigarette
With a brunette
I hadn’t yet met
Her name was Marie-Antoinette
As she said it she did a pirouette
And wow what a silhouette
Coquette she wore an amulet
Feared nothing short of a bayonet
Forgot the laundry it was still wet
I got hungry and craved an omelet
Asked M-A to join me in my Corvette
Drove to the closest luncheonette
Ordered baguette and anisette
We talked right until the sun set
She showed me a statuette
She dreamt of a trip to Tibet
So we jumped on a jumbo jet
Me her and the rest of the jetset
Across the aisle was the oddest duet
He played the clarinet she the castanet
While Marie-Antoinette rhymed the alphabet
Dancing and waving with a serviette
Try and imagine this strange vignette
Marie-Antoinette Marie-Antoinette
Forever in her debt
Not so easy to forget
I only have one regret
I left Marie-Antoinette back in Tibet
Submitted on November 14, 2022 for contest 2022 POETRY MARATHON MILE 20 sponsored by MARK TONEY
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Originally posted on February 17, 2018
A statuette built of a marble stone.
Desire to be anywhere other.
Her sky above set to a single tone.
Along a stream; river void of color.
Reflection of black that surrounds her frame.
Mirror to see beyond an empty heart.
Echo to shadow that once burning flame.
Grey that stretches above begins to part.
Downpour, tears of heaven, blood red, a mask,
And with it ten crows, sent to peck the eyes,
Met with glass, as she sips her empty flask,
No relief is there to find, left to cry.
Legs that beg to buckle, are standing still.
Yet wanders through the mind in hopes to kill.
Splashed carelessly aside
poised, patiently resisting
every earthen pull. Only you reside,
carved statuette persisting
tethered on stony mountain tops
asking much of fortunes favor.
Catching crisp sunlight, life stops
upending sensibilities; labor
like your brother Banff. Capture
all the beauty of the world,
record it for the rapture.
Sunday, January 17th, 2016
I am an unknown sculptor
I am in love with the clay
of your unfinished pristine statuette.
Statuette she is in deep thought.
A monument of strength gathered from anguish and heartache.
She sighs as she murmurs what distresses.
As tears flow freely, her heart is exposed.
He is aloof watching her.
He deciphers the cold world that milieus.
He will not encroach.
The streetlights effervescently disclosed her observer.
A sensitive core possesses her inner being.
Her soul is shown so easily.
She continues to hear hysteria even when it has stopped.
Her footsteps are on a lethargic path.
The clock on wall ticks.
She is exhausted from the hits of people that tell her the truth.
Her life is a mess.
Whispers are heard from yesteryear.
She reminisces.
Her life was once of edict and control.
Nevertheless, today she is of discourse to address all the wrong done.
Ascertain, an atmosphere exist as her depth breathes.
___________________________________________|
Penned on December 19, 2014!
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