Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Leone Lamp Jun 4
'Twas brillig, when the wee sleek beasty
Did gyre and gimble in my fields
And ach! I feel but naught, but sadness
Plowing his home and stealing his meals
Just an idea, in a verse. I think I want to revisit this and somehow mash up all of Jabberwocky and To A Mouse, two of my favorite poems.

~06/03/2021
Jay M Apr 22
They throw around words
Like daggers and smoke bombs
Cut, hide, throw some in
Get them to sink in deep

Gather up your insults
Pick and choose
Stack them on me
The pile gets higher
Until I burn it all down

In the end it won't matter if I lose
I'll drag you down with me
If you want to play with fire
You'd best be prepared to handle the burns

- Jay M
March 19th, 2021
I keep leaving things in my drafts, jeez.
Jay M Jan 8
Wound with joy and cheer
Unaware of the danger near
Moments away
Racing mind, rather absent
Hurry, hurry, hurry-!
Outcry echoes throughout the space
What searing pain
Heat from surface to flesh
Red as ripest tomato
Forming spots of pale white
Oh dear, what plight

- Jay M
January 8th, 2021
Burned my fingertips when baking this morning. My pinkies didn't get burned though, so I can still sorta type. It's gonna be a long day, haha..
Sarah Flynn Oct 2020
my skin
has housed sunburns
and scraped kneecaps.
it has carried
hair and goosebumps
and so many freckles
that I could never count.

my skin
has endured bruises
and cigarette burns.
its suffering is
the aftermath of
abuse, impulsivity,
and my own self-hatred.

my skin
has braved hot weather
and icy water.
it has protected me
from prickly thorns,
from strong winds,
and from myself.

despite the cruelty
that I inflicted
onto it,
this skin
held me together
even when I
felt like I was
falling apart.
lua Jun 2020
a fiery heart
with cool toned shadows
the bluest flame to burn
eating away at the amber of the flames
and the beige and brown of flesh
scattering sloppy purple bursts.
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Banks o' Doon
by Robert Burns
modern English translation by Michael R. Burch

Oh, banks and hills of lovely Doon,
How can you bloom so fresh and fair;
How can you chant, diminutive birds,
When I'm so weary, full of care!
You'll break my heart, small warblers,
Flittering through the flowering thorn:
Reminding me of long-lost joys,
Departed―never to return!

I've often wandered lovely Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine;
And as the lark sang of its love,
Just as fondly, I sang of mine.
Then gaily-hearted I plucked a rose,
So fragrant upon its thorny tree;
And my false lover stole my rose,
But, ah!, he left the thorn in me.

“The Banks o’ Doon” is a Scots song written by Robert Burns in 1791. It is based on the story of Margaret (Peggy) Kennedy, a girl Burns knew. Keywords/Tags: Robert Burns, song, Doon, banks, Scots, Scottish, Scotland, translation, modernization, update, interpretation, modern English
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Auld Lange Syne
by Robert Burns
modern English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
And days for which we pine?

For times we shared, my darling,
Days passed, once yours and mine,
We’ll raise a cup of kindness yet,
To those fond-remembered times!

Have you ever wondered just exactly what you're singing? "Auld lang syne" means something like "times gone by" or "times long since passed" and in the context of the song means something like "times long since passed that we shared together and now remember fondly." In my translation, which is not word-for-word, I try to communicate what I believe Burns was trying to communicate: raising a toast to fond recollections of times shared in the past. Keywords/Tags: Robert Burns, auld lang syne, old acquaintance, translation, modernization, update, interpretation, modern English, song

Original Scots Dialect Lyrics

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne.

CHORUS
For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne.
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp!
And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

REPEAT CHORUS

We twa hae run about the braes
And pu'd the gowans fine
But we've wander'd mony a weary foot
Sin auld lang syne.

REPEAT CHORUS

We twa hae paidl'd i' the burn
Frae mornin' sun till dine.
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin auld lang syne.

REPEAT CHORUS

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gie's a hand o' thine!
And we'll tak a right guid ***** waught,
For auld lang syne.
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
To a Louse
by Robert Burns
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Hey! Where're you going, you crawling hair-fly?
Your impudence protects you, barely;
I can only say that you swagger rarely
Over gauze and lace.
Though faith! I fear you dine but sparely
In such a place.

You ugly, creeping, blasted wonder,
Detested, shunned by both saint and sinner,
How dare you set your feet upon her—
So fine a lady!
Go somewhere else to seek your dinner
On some poor body.

Off! around some beggar's temple shamble:
There you may creep, and sprawl, and scramble,
With other kindred, jumping cattle,
In shoals and nations;
Where horn nor bone never dare unsettle
Your thick plantations.

Now hold you there! You're out of sight,
Below the folderols, snug and tight;
No, faith just yet! You'll not be right,
Till you've got on it:
The very topmost, towering height
Of miss's bonnet.

My word! right bold you root, contrary,
As plump and gray as any gooseberry.
Oh, for some rank, mercurial resin,
Or dread red poison;
I'd give you such a hearty dose, flea,
It'd dress your noggin!

I wouldn't be surprised to spy
You on some housewife's flannel tie:
Or maybe on some ragged boy's
Pale undervest;
But Miss's finest bonnet! Fie!
How dare you jest?

Oh Jenny, do not toss your head,
And lash your lovely braids abroad!
You hardly know what cursed speed
The creature's making!
Those winks and finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice-taking!

O would some Power with vision teach us
To see ourselves as others see us!
It would from many a blunder free us,
And foolish notions:
What airs in dress and carriage would leave us,
And even devotion!

One Sunday while sitting behind a young lady in church, Robert Burns noticed a louse roaming through the bows and ribbons of her bonnet. The poem "To a Louse" resulted from his observations. The poor woman had no idea that she would be the subject of one of Burns' best poems about how we see ourselves, compared to how other people see us at our worst moments. Keywords/Tags: Robert Burns, louse, church, bonnet, lace, Scotland, Scots, dialect, translation
dailythoughts Apr 2020
This heart of mine
Is funny
Gives me trouble
Aches
Loves
Burns
Smiles
Handles me well
Reminds me of terror
Is weak
Is full of tenderness
But it’s mine
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Comin Thro the Rye
by Robert Burns
modern English translation by Michael R. Burch

Oh, Jenny's all wet, poor body,
Jenny's seldom dry;
She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin' through the rye.

Comin' through the rye, poor body,
Comin' through the rye.
She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin' through the rye.

Should a body meet a body
Comin' through the rye,
Should a body kiss a body,
Need anybody cry?

Comin' through the rye, poor body,
Comin' through the rye.
She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin' through the rye.

Should a body meet a body
Comin' through the glen,
Should a body kiss a body,
Need all the world know, then?

Comin' through the rye, poor body,
Comin' through the rye.
She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin' through the rye.

The poem "Comin Thro the Rye" by Robert Burns may be best-known today because of Holden Caulfield's misinterpretation of it in "The Catcher in the Rye." In the book, Caulfield relates his fantasy to his sister, Phoebe: he's the "catcher in the rye," rescuing children from falling from a cliff. Phoebe corrects him, pointing out that poem is not about a "catcher" in the rye, but about a girl who has met someone in the rye for a kiss (or more), got her underclothes wet (not for the first time), and is dragging her way back to a polite (i.e., Puritanical) society that despises girls who are "easy." Robert Burns, an honest man, was exhibiting empathy for girls who were castigated for doing what all the boys and men longed to do themselves. Keywords/Tags: Robert Burns, Jenny, rye, petticoats, translation, modernization, update, interpretation, modern English, song, wet, body, kiss, gossip, puritanism, prudery
Next page