Xxii Poems - Poems about Xxii

These are my early poems, or juvenilia. Analogy by Michael R. Burch, circa age 19 Our embrace is like a forest lying blanketed in snow; you, the lily, are enchanted by each shiver trembling through; I, the snowfall, cling in earnest as I press so close to you. You dream that you now are sheltered; I dream that I may break through. Published by Borderless...

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Berthe Morisot* looking at you the inner woman comes into view An artist herself- an equivalent with feelings so ambivalent...

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I must have dropped my unconscious mind in the home & garden aisle yesterday in a dream the intercom crackles to life, tickling my ears a familiar voice calls out reminding me that I need to water my houseplants soon...

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Canticle: an Aubade Michael R. Burch Misty morning sunlight hails the dawning of new day; dreams drift into drowsiness before they fade away. Dew drops on the green grass echo splendors of the sun; the silence lauds a songstress and the skillful song she's sung. Among the weeping willows the mist clings to the leaves; and, laughing in the early light among...

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I rounded a street missing a lantern, the heat in my eyes was starting to burn; It felt like gravity was all but gone my sharp fangs extended as I walked on; Creeping closer still hidden completely Fable stood a few feet ahead of me; ‘Recommendation: Don’t do that again.’ I said this but knew she...

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When recurring dreams Take you back to that moment of Growing up—living that younger mind, Where you first loved—first feared, Breathing in purpose that is now past Nostalgic aromas pervade the nostrils, Taking form in memories— Child body and voice—inventive mind, Tracing scent-filled reminiscence Into some dark place, Where dark deeds birthed, Where perhaps enlightenment came At a strange hour of...

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betrayal ain't gift - pored present: sassy seal soiled strength, leering lent callous content, cussed confetti, felon fosters, la-de-da wills betrayal is not a rough robe: moistened misery solely sewn throbbing thread, porous passion plagued smothered style, feeble fabric's flesh betrayal is all but sworn skill: saucy syllables shredding fills smithereens of spelled silhouettes tracing dark dribbles on int'llect think not yourself wise when you cheat, you're a...

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M, In forests deep where nympth do hide I seek out guise of nature's bride flit of light, dipped in heaven's milk immersed in eyes of emerald's moss skin of silk as long legs cross majestic mind and fleet afoot earthen bound with tangled root lain in fields of grace, where beauty rests familiar face here fierceness nests visceral and virtuous the flowers speak colour...

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IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XXII IF you pull a long lonely face Standing all alone near or on a busy airport flyway Sans kith ni kin nor traffic police or friends en surplus Hell you'll be mowed down by plane's landing gear out-lay Now if you pull that lone long face Since with none you can co-habit...

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More' n force gore and seven years ago tha youngest daughter of Willian and Sylvia Zison found her beau pea ping over a paperback (at present aye got nada clue of the title), un been knownst to him,...

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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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People are Good Their Creator made them so. Yes, they do go wrong And even when they mean well, They constitute Misery to others Some other times, they release themselves To be used by the messenger of misery. We do Bad things I mean, very Bad things. Not that we are Bad, But many times, our choices are Bad And sometimes our Good turns Bad, Leaves us...

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It's the middle class t-rump attacks This ass dumps our social contracts For Inc(s) he does care And for-the-rich welfare Disguised by his off the wall acts...

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Unquotable quotes: Philosophers – XXII Take Socrates: the insignia of a true philosopher is the bald pate and the luxuriant beard – the very reason why women make for such pathetic philosophers. The bald pate facilitates the evaporation of the scorching heat generated by deep thought, and the beard attests to their forgetfulness - from the...

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Black. White. Blue. Pink. Orange. I'll blend in. Tall, short, cold, warm. I'll blend in. She likes to remain calm, she likes to scream or maybe even lean. I'll blend in. People always playing cautious as if they got something to lose. Put in nothing, you won't get anything. You want to talk about your...

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