Mother Washed Poems

mother mouse had her hands and tubs full on wash day
her children were jumping and diving and playing every which way
Pinning on the line took...

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white
clean shirts
drying in 
sunlight on line
washed in detergent soap by mother’s hand!
our minds nurtured by mother’s love and care,
should last lifetime,
unspoilt by
time and 
wear!

‘Double Tetractys...

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Ninety-Three Daughters of Israel
a Holocaust poem by Chaya Feldman
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

We washed our bodies
and cleansed ourselves;
we purified our souls
and became clean.

Death does...

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I was standing beneath a crimson umbrella last night.
The harvest moon shined, and the stars gleamed bright. 
For there was the sound of pitter-patter on...

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I was doing just fine
Atop my mountain of white
Where I could touch, better sinners
With luminescent light

I could proclaim, "Forgiven"
To those on the right road
And not...

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Graffiti on the wall that you call yours for your communication;
Someone else paints it all over, different lines, zigzag, splodges, splurged, fiery captions  
Can...

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our children
nor theirs
no longer write
or call---visit---
and “you got mail”
is a several days old
echo---
“#ILU”
is a faceless note
left somewhere
in the book of computers
hanging out with skype dust:

hey!...

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