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These are my early poems, or juvenilia...
alien
by michael r. burch
there are mornings in england
when, riddled with light,
the Blueberries gleam at us—
plump, sweet and fragrant.
but i am so small ...
what do i know
of the ways of the Daffodils?
“beware of the Nettles!”
we go laughing and singing,
but somehow, i, ...
i know i am lost. i do not belong
to this Earth or its Songs.
Easter, in Jerusalem
by Michael R. Burch
The streets are hushed from fervent song,
for strange lights fill the sky tonight.
A slow mist creeps
up and down the streets
and a star has vanished that once burned bright.
Oh Bethlehem, Bethlehem,
who tends your flocks tonight?
"Feed my sheep,"
"Feed my sheep,"
a Shepherd calls
through the markets and the cattle stalls,
but a fiery sentinel has passed from sight.
Golgotha shudders uneasily,
then wearily settles to sleep again,
and I wonder how they dream
who beat him till he screamed,
"Father, forgive them!"
Ah Nazareth, Nazareth,
now sunken deep into dark sleep,
do you heed His plea
as demons flee,
"Feed my sheep,"
"Feed my sheep . . ."
The temple trembles violently,
a veil lies ripped in two,
and a good man lies
on a mountainside
whose heart was shattered too.
Galilee, oh Galilee,
do your waters pulse and froth?
"Feed my sheep,"
"Feed my sheep,"
the waters creep
to form a starlit cross.
I wrote this poem around age 15-16.
and yet i am singing ...
the sun—so mild;
my cheeks are like roses;
my skin—so fair.
i spent a long time there
before i realized: They have no faces,
no bodies, no voices.
i was always alone.
and yet i keep singing:
the words will come
if only i hear.
I believe I wrote "alien" around age 19 as a college freshman or sophomore.
Keywords/Tags: early, juvenilia, juvenile, college, school, child, childhood, class, youth, write, writing, voice,
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