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Lyn-Purcell Aug 2020

Willow-swift beauty
Flowered fruits have earned her praise
For she is acclaimed


New day, new haiku!
Taking it slow and steady as always.
Three of the Charites, children of Hephaestus and Aglaia [aka Kharis, one of the three Charites] down and after this, one more to go!
This is Eupheme, goddess of praise. And again, there isnt much on her but like her sisters before her, I wanted to give her some character.
I picture Eupheme as someone who is diligent and hardworking at her passions, someone who is worthy of praise because of how much heart she puts into her work. I wanted to make her more human in that regard, you know. This is something we all deserve, praise for our passion.
Please just keep at what you do and be honest and open too.
The best is yet to come, for us all!

Anyway, thank you all for growing followers, I'm forever humbled and grateful for the support 🙏🌹💜
Here's the link for the growing collection:
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/132853/the-women-of-myth/
Be back tomorrow with another one!
Much love,
Lyn 💜
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
The Locker
by Michael R. Burch

All the dull hollow clamor has died
and what was contained,
removed,

reproved
adulation or sentiment,
left with the pungent darkness

as remembered as the sudden light.

Originally published by The Raintown Review

Keywords/Tags: Sports, locker, lockerroom, clamor, adulation, acclaim, applause, sentiment, darkness, light, retirement, athlete, team, trophy, award, acclamation



Tremble
by Michael R. Burch

Her predatory eye,
the single feral iris,
scans.

Her raptor beak,
all jagged sharp-edged ******,
juts.

Her hard talon,
clenched in pinched expectation,
waits.

Her clipped wings,
preened against reality,
tremble.

Published by The Lyric, Verses Magazine, Romantics Quarterly, Journeys, The Raintown Review, Poetic Ponderings, Poem Kingdom, The Fabric of a Vision, NPAC—Net Poetry and Art Competition, Poet’s Haven, Listening To The Birth Of Crystals (Anthology), Poetry Renewal, Inspirational Stories, Poetry Life & Times, MahMag (Iranian/Farsi), The Eclectic Muse

Keywords/Tags: Tremble, predator, raptor, hawk, eagle, falcon, talon, beak, wing, preen, preened, preening



Ordinary Love
by Michael R. Burch

Indescribable—our love—and still we say
with eyes averted, turning out the light,
"I love you," in the ordinary way

and tug the coverlet where once we lay,
all suntanned limbs entangled, shivering, white ...
indescribably in love. Or so we say.

Your hair's blonde thicket now is tangle-gray;
you turn your back; you murmur to the night,
"I love you," in the ordinary way.

Beneath the sheets our hands and feet would stray
to warm ourselves. We do not touch despite
a love so indescribable. We say

we're older now, that "love" has had its day.
But that which Love once countenanced, delight,
still makes you indescribable. I say,
"I love you," in the ordinary way.

Winner of the 2001 Algernon Charles Swinburne poetry contest; published by The Lyric, Romantics Quarterly, Mandrake Poetry Review, Carnelian, Poem Kingdom, Net Poetry and Art Competition, Famous Poets and Poems, FreeXpression, PW Review, Poetic Voices, Poetry Renewal and Poetry Life & Times
should they take objection
to the stylish comb others
show
they'll vacate the others
spot in the
row

many a time this course
of action has been
depicted
where others were so
suddenly
evicted

they weren't happy
no not at
all
on seeing the others
who'd so
enthral

every bit of veneration
had to be kept on
them
even though the others were
far more exceptional of
stem

they thought that they
ruled at the
joint
so the others were abruptly
given their terse
point

we are aware of how
they
operate
which is to promptly
clear the others
plate
and the idol was so reliant
on an alliance team
without their subsidy he'd not
obtain acclaim's dream*

the popular limelight elevated
him up into the stratosphere
none of his zealots were
yearned for around here

they'd been used by a
so called fellow who rocked
on finally realizing the fact
they were dismissively shocked

of recent days the tin god
is attempting a revival
but past stalwarts assert
*there's no prospect of survival
Brent Kincaid Sep 2015
I wrote a poem
And two thousand
Two hundred and
Thirty one people
Read it.
That right there is poetic.
It may not be politic
To brag, but I’m waving the flag
My own flag
Because it’s not a gag.
It’s real.
And it makes me feel
Like I am doing something
Right;
Like I am winning the fight
Against those who scoff
And cough and make fun.
I feel like I have won.

— The End —