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Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Circe
by Michael R. Burch

She spoke
and her words
were like a ringing echo dying
or like smoke
rising and drifting
while the earth below is spinning.
She awoke
with a cry
from a dream that had no ending,
without hope
or strength to rise,
into hopelessness descending.
And an ache
in her heart
toward that dream, retreating,
left a wake
of small waves
in circles never completing.

Originally published by Romantics Quarterly

Keywords/Tags: Circe, enigma, enigmatic, enchantress, siren, enchanted, witch, goddess, magic, Ulysses, pigs, sty



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
Chrissy Ade Nov 2019
I was born a walking contradiction
Destined to be misunderstood by others
I am quiet in places where I should be loud
Shaking the ground so it caves and swallows in
But I am also loud in places I should be quiet
Breaking the walls before listening to their stories
I blend myself to fit into places where I don't belong
And I belong in places where I cannot blend
I'm the puzzle piece you can't quite figure out
But you hope to come back to someday
I am difficult to figure out, a perplexing individual
I am an enigma, a mystery you can never solve
Don't try to figure me out, I haven't even figured myself out.
julianna Nov 2019
I want to be an enigma
I want the words to fall out of my head
And into your hand
Or maybe into nothingness,
That would be better
I’m begging to feel nothing
And I’m dying to feel something
Just let me disappear, God
Let me fade away
For Forever
~
Q Sep 2019
what holds most stake in
the cosmic whole, is the soul,
where our power rests







s.q.











.
You're an enigma.
Ylzm Aug 2019
Acquainted with the minutest details
Asking the deep but obscurest questions
Walking paradox each waking moment
Conundrums within constantly astir

Then I know we walk same mysterious ways
Hidden enigmas part if seas open
Waters from dead rocks when all hope is lost
Yet we walk, the light irresistible

Apart in time and space irrelevant
For the soul's immortal and eternal
Speaks the same words in the same awe and light
In language beyond words, speech without sound
JE Osun May 2019
Aren’t we tired of writing
About love? How many words
Have gone wasted as we try
To conjure her upon this
Living page?
We have sat perched
Like random  birds
On our cozy,
Sad chairs; our heads
Hung like overripe fruit
Upon a hanging vine;
There is dust thick
As silt on the edges
Of our memories;
The words our ancestors
Spat with the hope
Of summoning  her
now filter to our
Hidden mind like
So many fireflies on
A too dark night.
We search for meaning
And curse our hearts for
Answers that we never find.
We turn to hieroglyphs
On the worn edges of
A papyrus; indecipherable
Cuneiform etched into
The walls of caves with
Primitive stones.
One day, there will be a
Cure for all maladies;
On that day love will
Still not be defined
Dennis Ayzin May 2019
Flower gentle, colors flowing,
Purple bleeds from velvet red,
White is pure, it barely holding
Sinless dew, confused and wet.

Petals curvy, gently squeezing
Swollen flesh of yellow stigma,
Scent arousing, tremors pleasing
Form lascivious enigma.
Please look up the Daring nature (full)
Loser Mar 2019
I'm sick of these ******* enigmas.
Speaking in tongues and whispers and acting like I'm the nothing.
So I sit. And I stare. And walls never felt so comforting.
And if you focus, really concentrate, your vision closes in, and you can almost turn off the laughs. Until someone shatters the focus with an "are you okay?"

"Am I okay?...Of course I'm ******* okay..."

And it's true.
Honestly.
It took time, but once I got past the fact that all of my friends wear masks around me I decided to wear one too.
idk
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