Asked about
his gender
The Son
says “NO”
“I created
them solely
for procreation
to flow
“The love child
of Mary
and My Father
on high
“I purpose
them both
my Holy Spirit
— alive”
********
Never
Living to the max
the writing comes easy
(BUT)
You’ll never live easy
— and write to the max
********
The Temptress
The Divine Tyranny
of Art
Whose anguished temptation
forever imparts
It grows in your spirit
while taking its tole
And leaves you abandoned
¬ — alone unconsoled
********
Come Rocinante
He was a pilgrim
in defense of a shrine
That doesn’t exist
a mirage in the wind
A new Don Quixote
tilting at windmills
His gaze but a portal
— to the fire within
(Dreamsleep: July, 2026)
I feel, I feel a little bit more
Deafening silences of stories untold
Wrenching hearts, welled-up eyes
Suppressed screams weaving loving lullabies
I feel, I feel a little bit more
Breezes disguised as tornadoes
Wreckage, havoc, “it’s dark inside”
Cluttered confusion showing the ‘light’
I feel, I feel a little bit more
In a circus, on a tightrope
Smirks, grins, mocking eyes
Free falling to see if it’s alright
Tell me, tell me if you know
To keep these secrets, box of lies
Chest of unconsoled cries
Buried beyond land, seas and skies
Never unravelled, but felt, kept and hidden again
By souls destined to have the sweetest of smiles.
A wrestlers kapi pup born in the town of Porapoo
Red Dog~The Pilabara wonderer with lurid tales' legion
A bold spirited canine he, an Aussie through and through
Roaming free the red earth of the wide Northwestern region
He pawed a ride with John, an iron miner, when lost.
They became close mates, good sports to remember.
But drinking and poker took their grim cost.
John was gunned down in 'ts, the first day of September.
Now as Red Dog roamed quietly unconsoled
Cars, buses and trucks offered him rides, hugs and food.
For his hard-luck story had been told and retold
With good Aussies determined to brighten his mood
For the rest of his days Red Dog roamed about
Stopping cars now and them for food and a ride
His loud flatulations signaled 'twas time to get out.
With nature his friend and kind folks who abide
Pilbar mourned with muted disbelief,
When the poisoned body of Red Dog was found
A bronze statue stands for friends to bow in grief.
May Red Dog rest well in his much-loved native ground.
The Lost Doll Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
Placed 2nd
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Barbie was its name…
To me how it came…
Difficult to proclaim!
By its side, I used to sit,
Leaving it not for a bit…
This, I promptly admit!
Call it not a doll, it’s my plea…
In it I found an innocent glee;
It was almost a sibling to me!
It was the month of May;
My cousins from Bombay,
Visited us for their short stay!
With my Barbie, they all played;
Their hands on it they all laid;
Cut it into pieces with a blade!
And threw it into a river, I was told;
My anger then was uncontrolled;
And till now, I am left unconsoled!
with unconsoled cries
weeping and gnashing their teeth ~
their worm never dies
—————
for the Hell Haiku Poetry Contest
sponsored by Robert James Liguori
written on 3/26/23
The Lingering and the Unconsoled Heart
by Michael R. Burch
There is a silence—
the last unspoken moment
before death,
when the moon,
cratered and broken,
is all madness and light,
when the breath comes low and complaining,
and the heart is a ruin
of emptiness and night.
There is a grief—
the grief of a lover's embrace
while faith still shimmers in a mother’s tears ...
There is no gruesomer time, nor place,
while the faint glimmer of life is ours
that the lingering and the unconsoled heart fears
beyond this: seeing its own stricken face
in eyes that drift toward some incomprehensible place.
Keywords/Tags: Death, Euthanasia, Hospice, Terminal, Terminate, Termination, Hemlock, Silence, Last Breath, Heart, Heartache, Heartbreak, Grief, Grief-stricken, Love, Lover, Mother, Night, Emptiness, Horror, Fear, Near Death Experience, Linger, Lingering, Faith, Hope, Hopeless, Hopelessness
Goodbye my love
all thoughts…
and Visions of you
have fled My mind
Only to leave behind
A harsh..
hollowed out crater
In the center of my soul
Leaving me…
unconsoled…
As your scent fades
And memories of
your eyes,
Your face,
Your shape
Surrender into shadows…
Lost, is you;
forever more In my
Embrace….
What faustian barging
Must I make, to escape
This plight…
Of the pain
of the lose..
that will follow me…
into the
Eternal night….
A leaf clings to a lifeless branch
In humble and tenuous hold
A limp and parched and fragile thing
Endurance unconsoled
In life, through changes, we must face
We’re sometimes like that leaf
Holding on, a threadbare rein
Through loss and pain and grief
Embrace, little leaf, my gentle friend
Though chilly winds may hover
For life remains and strength regains
Through change, we rediscover
This was for keeps for all we knew
so far away so long ago
I really fell in love with you
before you played the second show
White lace and grace and promises
Beguile? Belong? Betroth? Beseech?
it's best to do what momma says
so very close so out of reach
The moment when the slight girl sings
that lovely voice like scented smoke
like chocolate and cello strings
like molten gold or burnished oak
I know I've wasted too much time
the one thing that's in short supply
there'll never be another rhyme
and stars won't fall down from the sky
I tell myself I'm feeling old
there's nothing I can do about it
and what I've garnered unconsoled
of love is how to live without it
Why must our loved ones disappear?
Oh won't you say what laid you low?
I know that you're not really here
it's just that worn-out radio
"
I have walked the silent paths of grief
Sunless,dreary,cold and all alone.
I have slept on beds of winter leaves.
I know that death’s a greedy starving thief.
Although my heart weeps and my joy has gone.
I have never felt I was deceived.
I have learned that human life is brief.
I have learned by sorrow we’re undone.
I have sifted earth and what’s beneath.
I have felt the dark emotions seethe
I've felt cruelly burned by glaring sun.
I have learned the geography of grief.
I wait in sorrow for this life to cease
Yet some are never loved by anyone
I have dreamed in beds of winter leaves
Unconsoled grief can make us dumb
Into our hearts, we drag the ice that numbs
I have walked the silent paths of grief
I have made my bed on winter leaves
I feel soft ghostly hands around my throat
That want to pull me to the darkest deep
My husband cannot leave or be remote
He wishes me to join him in his sleep.
I shall resist for I desire to live
Though lonely are my hours without his face.
I have no more I wish to give
Now he has taken from me his kind embrace.
As lonely as a swan without its mate.
As tired as swallows after they migrate
I must accept my unconsoled fate
I'll not believe this be a constant state.
From my loss I shall recover when
The birds return and summer comes again
My heart got whacked put some ice and medicine on my throbbing heart
I got toiled and moiled,got surrounded by coils I am unconsoled I'm begging you,I blubber come to me and let all of this to be over
Too much heartache,
too many tears,
too many wastefully taken lives in the world.
All encompassing and smothering aching pain
I have to shut it out and off,
fading to oblivion
where nothing lives just widespread emptiness.
So much heartache in the world
that it spreads only tears
and every face
cries for recognition, retribution
and finds no peace
only loss and regret.
Too much heartache in the world
so much of it contaminates us,
it touches every soul
that cries done, stop,
wipe away the tears
but leaves us unconsoled.
I can't believe that
my good mistress'
gone.
she came,she
saw,she lived,she
worked and died.
But duties of her is
yet to be done.
That's why I'm
weeping while long I
cried.
She is now call
among the
dead,she's dead.
No place to see and
hear her any more.
We lost her sweet
maternal tea and
bread.
on our unconsoled
heart lies ever sore.
To sorrow I was
nailed when i
realised;
her teaching and its
great impact in life,
her charming voice
of care and great
advised.
That's why I called
her sister,mom and
wife.
If God not God,I shall
curse him the God.
But since He is God,
I have to nod.
Angrily, rain enfolds the insular rise of lawn undulating.
Anglers dream, envious fishermen, inside looking out urging
apostles, who elope within imaginary onslaughts, hooked unburdening's.
Aloft, thunder encounters lightening's insistent taunt, oracles fearsome uttering's.
And still, each fisherman's innermost summoning orchestrates this untoward
atmospheric downfall, each drop induced, prayerful, outpouring is underscored.
Admittedly many envious housebound inmates seek oceans, lakes, unexplored
although, the earthly torrent interferes pitiless, onerous, rainfall unleashed.
Absent the energizing rays introduced by ordinary sun, undone
are these enigmatic men in rooms, oar less, ship-less, landlubbers unconsoled.
Another day encases them indoors mooning over fish uncontrolled.
A trophy earned, stuffed, indisputably shows offerings untold.
Ah, fishtails energetically rise incensed by objections never unabridged
absent their earnest wives, imagination rolls on winds un-curtailed.
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