Unborn Poems

The Poet's Vigil

In the quiet corners of his own mind,
he walks alone,
a poet whose pen drips with moonlight.

He counts the hours by the hum of his thoughts,
each one a lantern swinging in the wind.

A thinker —
he weighs the weight of names,
dreams of the laughter not yet born,
imagines a tiny hand curling around his own.

In solitude,
he builds worlds

Dead Or Alive

So many murders it's overkill
but no one cares on Capitol Hill
and some are less concerned
it seems to me
with the killing of the living
(whose taxes pay the wages of sin)
to each U.S. Supreme Court employee
than that of the unborn
or perhaps I should be more forgiving
tho' lives are broken they remain unspoken
on the Washington White House South

Unborn Me

Where am I?
Don't tell me I'm in Nigeria
Did I tell you I want to be born here
Is this wickedness or something.

Where am I?
Why Africa why not the world?
Why subject me to the colonial masters
Why making me a slave to westerners.

Where am I?
Why the world why not Heaven?
Is this mere wickedness or Ignorance?
Why bring me to

Tree of Souls

It stood like a sentinel
at the world’s bleak last shore,
its gnarled branches clawing at
a churning grey November sky,
above a thin and narrowing
yellow band of waning light
auguring the coming night.

Rattling seed pods faintly clicked—
          (playing hollow, spectral tunes)
like a wind-chime built for wraiths.
Brittle voices rose and fell
in

The Father of My Unborn Child

Anger turned to joy,
With the news one day,
A little life was on the way.
Excitement in his eyes, a spark,
A future dream, a bright new start.

He told his mother, and brothers too,
A father’s pride, a love so true.
But when he came back, the light had dimmed,
The change so swift, the warmth had thinned.

At six months, the

FREE THE UNBORN FROM DEATH

End the death of the unborn, and protect them from receiving any harm. 
Made by choice and killed by force. 
We should all remember that we were once in that spot. 
Love and kindness should be given to the unborn until they are born. 
No harm or death should be given to someone who has

In An Instant

In an instant,
one or more lives can be changed forever.
A car crosses the road,
now headed for a pick-up truck.
The driver, husband and father to be,
lies dead on the road.
The wife and mother to be will some how survive,
but will never be the same.
The unborn baby will also survive,
their lives will be changed forever.
Their loving mother

Invisible Lives

Help me—
I’m losing my hold,
and so is the life I carry.

This plea isn’t empty,
this struggle isn’t obscured.
But you walk on by,
each face a silhouette,
each footfall loud as my moans.

I’m submerged in a wave
that cannot bear my weight.
Please,
just one hand,
before I fade entirely.

Song and Dance of the Unborn Child

Center stage, the fertile womb
has room and walls. 
The fourth will speak to you
with thumps and heartbeats
Loud and clear :
"I am here!"
New life cannot be ignored...






I love my sons.
Aqua Marine. September 2024.

The unborn

                                        Bloom in the womb
           

Unborn Children

Fatal love

Love is life, love creates more love and lives
Love comes from life, love exists for new life
New lives come from love. Life is life and love

Not every time. Some of the love is strange fakes
Life interest, flirtatiousness, spiritual oppression
Lust of power, arrogance, spiritual destruction 
Spiritual destruction with love; my dead children

My dead children are

Children's Poems XI

Children's Poems XI

These are poems for children and poems about children and their mothers, fathers, grandmother, grandfathers and extended families. 



To My Child, Unborn
by Michael R. Burch

for Jeremy

How many were the nights, enchanted
with despair and longing, when dreams recanted
returned with a restless yearning,
and the pale stars, burning,
cried out at me to remember
one night... long ere

Near The Unborn Are Rising

Greening trees thatch a spackled sky,
but not yet.
Cardinals kick up patches of sound,
but not yet.

Winter is sowing Spring,
setting fire to mist and smoke,
planting flames onto a colorless sky,
coyote's itch in their dreams,

Do you imagine a smear of green
on the frozen mud,
or is it the new blood of the yet unborn?

Unborn

("A Moment of Grace, aka The Empty Mirror", 2024, original encaustic)

Unborn

Unborn, undying
The nature of awareness
Just is and isn’t 

(1/24/24)

Island of unborn mysteries

Summer sets in as winter falls astray 
Childhood memories of things untold
what has & has not been spoken 
tales of truth hidden behind secrecy and lies.
Held captive, from childish ignorance and innocence 
These inner wounds have been craving a voice, a mix of their own.
Fear, despair tangles on the wings of spring
Stranded on an island

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