Violet Poems

I Am Violet

If I were a color, I'd imagine myself being bright 
It wouldn't be brown, or yellow or white
 
It would be something kind of, like in-between 
A pinkish/red, or a Orangish/dark green 

Silver is too sparkly, and gold is too bold 
Bronze' not too shabby, but it'll make me look old
 
Purple doesn't cut it,

Ghost Orchid, Violet

"Ghost Orchid, Violet"

plumes of purple blue
like a burning bruise, spear through my mind
the heart waits for the fall Evermore
with open palms it’s bright core forever calls

the light is blinding like a Ghost 
and it holds its fresh petalled orchid stretched out to me, 
petals opening the folds of a mind’s ever present dream unfolding
from a

Violet Spirit

PLACED 5th in Brian Strand 
Contest (Standard)

 

violet   S
              P
                I
              

Violet

I'm learning to have the nurture of a woman because of you
I thank my sister for bringing a vibrant flower into this world
I see more color start to hue. 
Having a little sidekick, another little sister 
You're silly and ready to go 
You act like you can take over the world
Violet, I hope you see

Quietude

Quiet are the hyacinths
Underneath the snows
Irises and violets
Even the red rose
Today are lying silent
Underneath the snows
Daffodils and lilacs
Even the red rose.

unintended innuendo

Season of violet grief
A day of navy oaths
The weather a dim pink hush— 
ghosts of past, my muse.

I accidentally wrote a letter
scrawled on pale paper—
Guess, my June, what spills forth
when your blade slips through—
—not me, the envelope.

Perhaps a carol, yes—
or an oration (how proud I was!)—
or—
no, not that—
—perhaps just a thin red thread,
words sealed in

Footstep

Flowering like an African violet 
Onyx hair kinky with flair
Only you can be brown beauty
Thunder bold or teal shy soul
So diverse in the universe 
Ties round head and neck
Emerald green black red best
Pride in your eyes your chest

Violet Haze

Violet Haze (Sequel to The Raven)

You twirl your hair like Death indeed, 
And like to sit back and watch my poems bleed. 
My love and sorrow, all for you, 
You know I never slink out of the blue. 

But now I wonder all along,
If Death is actually you, my dear. 
And who am I to

Forgiveness

From crushed violets rise a sweet, gentle sigh,
Their scent teaches grace as they reach for the sky.
In the face of our pain, love’s essence remains,
Forgiveness blooms softly, washing away stains.

German Poetry translations into English II

These are modern English translations of poems by the German poets  Ingeborg Bachmann, H. Distler and Johann Georg Jacobi.



“Song”
by Johann Georg Jacobi
translation by Michael R. Burch

Friend, tell me where the violet fled,
so lately gaily blowing?
That once perfumed fair Flora’s tread,
its choicest scents bestowing?
Swain, give up verse and hang your head:
the violet lies dead!

Friend, what

The Maiden Lay in the Wilds: Translation

These are modern English translations of ancient Middle English poems. 


The Maiden Lay in the Wilds
circa the 14th century
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The maiden in the moor lay,
in the moor lay;
seven nights full,
seven nights full,
the maiden in the moor lay,
in the moor lay,
seven nights full and a day.

Sweet was her meat.
But what was her

Violet

Sovereign, spectral,
Edible for medicine,
Flower with power.

In the twilight of a violet sunset, when my soul dons veils of melancholy

In the twilight of a violet sunset, when my soul dons veils of melancholy,
I sit alone, surrounded by phantasms and unspoken words, whispering ancient incantations,
My verses, silk threads woven from starry tears and lunar sighs,
Rise towards the celestial vault, carrying the secrets of my troubled heart.
Poetry is my hidden kingdom, a crystal citadel buried in

The Therapist

soft smile in violet voice
healthy codependent choice
illness fills brown void

Lavender Flames

Blushed rose shaking hands with hues of cerulean,
bluish sighs in pinkish alibis,
softly whispering to the lilacs, gently
blowing, through the winds of amethyst,
a vision of majestic promises,
poetry on the lingering feelings of a light,
poured out on the soul who can see past yesterday,
into tomorrow’s plum, rose-tinted tendrils,
graceful, surrendering to the seas,
drifting out to believe, intimate waves,
soothing

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