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michael-r-burchPoems
The Poet's Condition by Michael R. Burch (for my mother, Christine Ena Burch) The poet's condition (bother tradition) is whining contrition. Supposedly sage, his editor knows his brain's in his toes though he would suppose to soon be the rage. His readers are sure his work's premature or merely manure, insipidly trite. His mother alone will answer the phone (perhaps with a moan) to hear him recite. Keywords/Tags: poet, poets, poems, poetry, editor, publisher, mother, recite, recitation, reciting, reading, phone, telephone Remembering Not to Call by Michael R. Burch a villanelle permitting mourning, for my mother, Christine Ena Burch The hardest thing of all, after telling her everything, is remembering not to call. Now the phone hanging on the wall will never announce her ring: the hardest thing of all for children, however tall. And the hardest thing this spring will be remembering not to call the one who was everything. That the songbirds will nevermore sing is the hardest thing of all for those who once listened, in thrall, and welcomed the message they bring, since they won’t remember to call. And the hardest thing this fall will be a number with no one to ring. No, the hardest thing of all is remembering NOT to call.
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May 18, 2020
May 18, 2020 at 4:08 AM UTC
The Poet's Condition
The Poet's Condition by Michael R. Burch (for my mother, Christine Ena Burch) The poet's condition (bother tradition) is whining contrition. Supposedly sage, his editor knows his brain's in his toes though he would suppose to soon be the rage. His readers are sure his work's premature or merely manure, insipidly trite. His mother alone will answer the phone (perhaps with a moan) to hear him recite. Keywords/Tags: poet, poets, poems, poetry, editor, publisher, mother, recite, recitation, reciting, reading, phone, telephone Remembering Not to Call by Michael R. Burch a villanelle permitting mourning, for my mother, Christine Ena Burch The hardest thing of all, after telling her everything, is remembering not to call. Now the phone hanging on the wall will never announce her ring: the hardest thing of all for children, however tall. And the hardest thing this spring will be remembering not to call the one who was everything. That the songbirds will nevermore sing is the hardest thing of all for those who once listened, in thrall, and welcomed the message they bring, since they won’t remember to call. And the hardest thing this fall will be a number with no one to ring. No, the hardest thing of all is remembering NOT to call.
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Written by
michael-r-burch
62/M/Nashville, Tennessee
May 18, 2020
May 18, 2020 at 4:08 AM UTC
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