Oasis
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

I want tears to form again
in the shriveled glands of these eyes
dried all these long years
by too much heated knowing.

I want tears to course down
these parched cheeks,
to star these cracked lips
like an improbable dew

in the heart of a desert.
I want words to burble up
like happiness, like the thought of love,
like the overwhelming, shimmering thought of you

to a nomad who
has only known drought.

Keywords/Tags: Sonnet, love, eyes, glands, tears, cheeks, lips, dew, desert, oasis, mirage, nomad, drought, words, happiness

Feeling - really emotionally
And filling
phrases
From solid, continuous rings
Consistent - Chain...
He can be saved
A ship destined to sink.
Agent Sea of ​​the massive desert,
Build a forest on the steppe...

My feeling disappears in the chain,
You'll see you until...

In your parched desert land
As the pendulum swings
And your friends are all gone
Still you’re moving right along
Like it doesn’t mean a thing

In your parched desert land
Thinking life’s unforgiving
Why not swallow your pride
Take an honest look inside
Join the land of the living

In  your parched desert land
Your manufactured death valley
Kind response was so important
Yet your manner was discordant
Isolation’s blind alley

In your parched desert land
When they take the final tally
You’ll surrender the fight
Find exquisite delight
In your brokered finale


© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.

She dances
moonsoaked and citrine
with pale paper skin,
smooth palms open toward the sky
and from her desert-kissed lips
spill wildflower prayers.

She knows she is but
 a fleeting impression 
against the canvas of the night
so she betrays all her silver secrets
to the all too eager wind
who whisks them away
to some dusky autumnal den.

Dried sands of the usual
Lay endless across the horizon
With simple coarseness
And familiarity
This is the life I understand
From the thirst
To the hunger
From the burning heat
This pain was home

And there stands a place that is much more colorful
And what may be a mirage
Of a mind that craves escape
From a dull and painful trek
Felt more and more real

But why am I so uneasy
To drink from the water of the oasis
Is it that I fear that it is poison
Or is it that I fear it isn't
That the soothing
Cutting taste of something better
Might make me unhappy
With what my life has become

*******
by Michael R. Burch

You came to me as rain breaks on the desert
when every flower springs to life at once,
but joy’s a wan illusion to the expert:
the Bedouin has learned how not to want.

Keywords/Tags: Water, rain, desert, oasis, flower, joy, life, illusion, Bedouin, expert, oasis, mirage

Water and Gold
by Michael R. Burch

You came to me as rain breaks on the desert
when every flower springs to life at once,
but joy's a wan illusion to the expert:
the Bedouin has learned how not to want.

You came to me as riches to a miser
when all is gold, or so his heart believes,
until he dies much thinner and much wiser,
his gleaming bones hauled off by chortling thieves.

You gave your heart too soon, too dear, too vastly;
I could not take it in; it was too much.
I pledged to meet your price, but promised rashly.
I died of thirst, of your bright Midas touch.

I dreamed you gave me water of your lips,
then sealed my tomb with golden hieroglyphs.

Published by The Lyric, Black Medina, The Eclectic Muse, Kritya (India), Shabestaneh (Iran), Anthology of Contemporary American Poetry, Captivating Poetry (Anthology), Strange Road, Freshet, Shot Glass Journal, Better Than Starbucks, Famous Poets and Poems, Sonnetto Poesia, Poetry Life & Times

Keywords/Tags: Water, rain, desert, flower, joy, oasis, illusion, mirage, Bedouin, miser, Midas, gold, golden, bones, rich, riches, thieves, heart, price, cost, thirst, tomb, hieroglyphs

The porcelain
wind of the
moon lifts
it’s wings
of mine
to see
the clouds,
deserts and
dreams of
reality as
one, the
endless
stories of
the green
and golden
fields of
painted
starlight,
the breath
of unspoken
songs in the
conversation
of eyes, too
aerial to be
held, as the
rising, gentle
wind through
the leaves,
and the hair
of lovers in
discovery
of forests
touched
with mist,
rising above
the mountains,
falling as the
song of rain,
they are
rain dancers
who see poetry
as all, and all
is water