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TOD HOWARD HAWKS Apr 2020
I have lived a blessed life. I have been a poet and human-rights advocate
my entire adult life. Money and the material things that it can buy have never
mattered to me;  their worth is illusory, yet, it seems at times the whole world
has bought into these falsehoods, and look where they have got us:  hunger,
homelessness, hopelessness. The 7.5 billion of us presently residing on this
planet face two foreboding existential threats:  catastrophic climate change
and imminent nuclear holocaust, while **** Trump is only concerned with
shaving a few more points off his handicap at Mar-a-lago every weekend.
So where do I find solace? I find it in the bright and beautiful I have been
blessed to experience:  meeting the dispossessd;  the social outcasts;  the down-and-outs;  the forgotten;  the socially disgraced of the world. But I have found my gold:  the goodness, in fact, of everyone, if only each knew where inside themselves to look. "Goodness" is not out there. It is deep within each
of us. Why am I rich? Because I know where and how to mine the heart
of anyone.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet, a novelist, and a human-rights advocate his entire adult life.
Corrinne Shadow Apr 2020
My life's work is the wiggling leap
Of a soft little kitten, who lands in a heap.

My life's work is the hyper, swift lick
Of a rambunctious puppy who moves lightning quick.

My life's work is the smile of a friend,
Who I know will be with me till the bitter end.

My life's work is a high GPA;
Perseverance is how I got here today.

My life's work are these words that I write,
And the heartfelt confession, "you saved my life".

My life's work is nowhere near done.
I fell down, I got up, now I'm ready to run.
I volunteer at a place that helps people with mental issues (like National Suicide Hotline) and somebody told me that I saved their life. It really helped me pull myself back to a stabilized condition. Even though I still feel like **** and quarantine has been really hard, I'm pushing through it and appreciating the good that I do have
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Besieged
by Michael R. Burch

Life—the disintegration of the flesh
before the fitful elevation of the soul
upon improbable wings?

Life—it is all we know,
the travail one bright season brings ...

Now the fruit hangs,
impendent, pregnant with death,
as the hurricane builds and flings
its white columns and banners of snow

and the rout begins.

Keywords/Tags: Life, flesh, disintegration, atrophy, soul, elevation, wings, winter, bright season, fruit, pregnant, snow, rout, tempest, blizzard
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
hymn to Apollo
by Michael R. Burch

something of sunshine attracted my i
as it lazed on the afternoon sky,
golden, splashed on the easel of god;
what, i thought,
could this elfin stuff be,
to, phantomlike, flit
through tall trees
on fall days, such as these?

and the breeze
whispered a dirge
to the vanishing light;
enchoired with the evening, it sang;
its voice enchantedly rang
chanting “Night!” . . .

till all the bright light
retired,
expired.

This poem appeared in my high school literary journal, the Lantern, so it was written by age 18, but probably around age 16 or 17. That was my "cummings" period. Keywords/Tags: sun, god, sunshine, Apollo, elfin, phantom, ghostly, magical, enchanted, bright, light, brilliant, sky, golden



Moon Lake
by Michael R. Burch

Starlit recorder of summer nights,
what magic spell bewitches you?
They say that all lovers love first in the dark...
Is it true?
Is it true?
Is it true?

Starry-eyed seer of all that appears
and all that has appeared—
What sights have you seen?
What dreams have you dreamed?
What rhetoric have you heard?

Is love an oration,
or is it a word?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?

I believe I wrote this poem in my late teens, during my “Romantic Period.”



Tomb Lake
by Michael R. Burch

Go down to the valley
  where mockingbirds cry,
  alone, ever lonely . . .
  yes, go down to die.
And dream in your dying
  you never shall wake.
  Go down to the valley;
  go down to Tomb Lake.
Tomb Lake is a cauldron
  of souls such as yours —
  mad souls without meaning,
  frail souls without force.
Tomb Lake is a graveyard
  reserved for the dead.
  They lie in her shallows
  and sleep in her bed.

I believe this poem and "Moon Lake" were companion poems, written around my senior year in high school, in 1976. In addition to having similar titles, they had similar "staircase" indention styles. According to my notes, I modified "Moon Lake" two years later in 1978, at which time the poem was substantially finished. I then modified "Tomb Lake" in 1981, but must have forgotten about it, because I don't show that I ever submitted the poem for publication or did anything with it for more than 40 years. Keywords/Tags: Moon, Lake, Lakes, Water, Reflection, Reflections, Image, Imagery, Mirror, Magic, Magician, Seer, Prophet, Shaman, Spell, Spells, Enchantment, Sorcery, Bewitchment, Bewilderment, Incantation, Rhapsody, Love Talk, Love Potion
Andreya Celeste Mar 2020
My lovely sun, remember this:
No matter how many times
the clouds attempt to smother your light,
you will never fail to shine through them
You are amazing!
Debbie Lydon Mar 2020
Last night's sombre sky was hiding the moon in the corner of an ever-longing eye,
Mysteries were fooled by honesty's mask,
This also happened by day, it was not just night's task.

Oh sovereign sky, you are more generous tonight,
Ostentatious and proud, you adorn my mind's walls,
Pouring me a cup of darkness delight, pain bows its head and sorrow stalls.

My eyes are too full, they are open and flooding,
Thank you, oh night and your sky's freckled face,
Your reminder of life has heads bowed and legs running, but I am here and in my place.
Nikita Mar 2020
You’re back
You’re back and it’s strange
I’m so happy but so calm
I’m so content but also anxious
Will you stay?
Will you please-

Your words sing to me
Your laughter ignites something within me
I feel light
I feel safe
I feel at home with you

You’re here
You’re here and it’s strange
I’m so happy but so calm
I’m so content but also anxious
Will you stay?
Please, will you love me?
Really?
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