Xxi Poems - Poems about Xxi

These are my early poems, or juvenilia. Stars by Michael R. Burch, age 22 Though night has come, I'm not alone, for stars appear —fierce, faint and far— to dance until they disappear. They reappear as clouds roll by in stormy billows past bent willows; sometimes they almost seem to sigh. And time rolls on, on past the willows, on past the stormclouds as they billow, on to the stars so faint...

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Eduard Manet au cafe a typica scene of his day Plum Brandy* for a 'happy-hour' gal a 'break' in her nearsst 'locale' ...

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ten feet away from the woman with sunken, tired eyes, sifting through her coupons a crumpled dollar bill is flattened against a man’s paint splattered, sun-stained jeans. he walks out, pockets lined with possibility, she walks out with a stooped back. the automatic door slides open for the both of them all the same....

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EARLY POEMS XXI - JUVENILIA Dance With Me by Michael R. Burch (circa age 18) Dance with me to the fiddles’ plaintive harmonies. Enchantingly, each highstrung string, each yearning key, each a thread within the threnody, bids us, "Waltz!" then sets us free to wander, dancing aimlessly. Let us kiss beneath the stars as we slowly meet ... we'll part laughing gaily as we go to measure love’s arpeggios. Yes, dance with me, enticingly; press your...

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It was such a fight I did not expect, she didn’t know the strength of intellect; Fable was bent on controlling my mind there’s no way that was how I was designed; Every dark thought with intention to pelt I began to push like she’d never felt; Surely she would know by the return force if this...

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Testing each other's faith At an open window—the air is still, People seem dead with indifference, And yet—the world breathes heavier Hearts thumping in rhythm To each other, Hands clasping so tightly, The view at large is a future we fear Honor is seen in companionship, Yet disgust is seen in those Who live in solitude—choosing Peace over miserable compromise We promise to protect...

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hope ain't a pored plague - sassy spell: gaunt gullible on craving etched tamed time trailing hampered boul'vard felon fate fostering farts hope is not a pruned parable: smothered syllables, numbed nimble sumptuous sway, damp denotation, throbbing theme, fallible fusion hope is everything but folly: lanky laziness, marred merry hibernated will, wanky wish dark dribbles, cursed confetti drips hope ain't the offshoot of ling'ring it's effort's wait on...

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Pluma, A tip so delicate, so smooth, so sweet caressing blank pages of my need indelible, creating tattoos of trust thrust where blood flows you save me with feathers of flight/delight as I surrender over to you my soul unedited predestined written our book of love promises yet to be made on pages clean it's told "she came in like the wind no need to aspire the darkness...

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IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XXI IF you pull a long Moon face Watching our Earth clad in sparse swirling white sarée Her aqua-marine waters cuddling her reddish brown body-surface The dazzlingly rare Pearl now throttled by deadly débris If you then pull a long Other-Moon face Rolling weightless in a space-ship bathed in thermo-dynamic ray You turn your...

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IF ever I had a country : XXI - XXII " I will follow that system of regimen which, according to my ability and judgment, I consider for the benefit of my patients, and abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous. I will give no deadly medicine to any one if asked, nor suggest any such...

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SONNET XXI GRATITUDE For He is Good His Mercies endures forever. Days have turned to Weeks, Weeks to Months and Months counting. Redemption we yet anticipate This Land of Misery and many Chaos His Mercies endures forever. Difficult, Frail and Unpredictable, we’ve journeyed Of his Goodness and Mercies, we’ve had plenty Though we’ve had the odds too, Summarily, here’s our Testimony His Strength has carried us, His Grace...

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Donald's faithful to his red star Putin loves the Don from afar Bizarre it may seem It's been Vladimir's dream To have an American Tsar...

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Unquotable quotes: Teachers – XXI The pupil, the ***** and the walnut tree, the more the teacher beats them, the better they be. In the old days, teachers were born to the métier like poets; today softwares do the teaching for them. A teacher a day makes the parent all gay and given to play. There’s nothing one teaches...

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So bridge to bridge, of other things speaking Of which my comedy does not take care, We walked; and reached the top, when seeking For watching the next slit, then we stopped there Malebolge to see and crying vain; And I saw it strikingly with no glare. As the Venician dockyard attain On winter boiling the tenacious pitch To caulk their worn out...

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Ever since the hour when first we met your dearest memory my silhouette the face of my greatest triumph enamored by the pleasant elation ‘twas the brush of your skin which fostered a phenomenon Before a generation We conquered centuries with ease Ever seeking to discover the genesis ‘twas love set anew...

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