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M Eastman Jun 2023
Should Andromeda collapse / Hammering hydrogen entraps
Cresting waves of burnished light / Whitecaps in the endless night
Fly apart with gentle violence / Into eternity of silence
Tiny, puffy clouds
were once above my head
My feet were there below,
steady and firmly placed.

I can walk a straight path
with no complications
Even in twist and turns
and a loss of directions

Rarely do I trip
or dangle from the branches
The weeds are growing taller
but facile to remove.

I traveled further
in the long, narrow streets
The constant flickering lights,
a very mysterious aura

I headed straight,
but something made me turn
the clouds were on my feet
I suddenly disappeared.
© Cyrille Octaviano, 2014
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
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
Kawsu Sanneh Mar 2020
Raise an Inferno against Corona
As if no one cares, but here is a
Solution that is within the flora
Of Darkness.Be bold, never be frail
At this young age. Be strong as we trail
And track those ancestral shrine
Let's wage war against corona
It's is real, let's feel the pain of that
Pandemic. Raise awareness
Who could ponder fearlessly?
To reduce bitterness of the threat
The panic is too much, we can't bear it
How could we bear it?. I am felling it.
That fuster flow in frugal frivolity
Imagine! Who to follow?, What to do?
Which medical measure could you
Follow?, When there large fossil of
Fake news flowing. Be combatant!
Be mentally armed. Be a militant!
Raise awareness against Corona
Raise an inferno against Corona
Stay Home, let it burn from stigma
Let it soul strive in hotly magma
Never be fussed neither be panic
None been bemused. Be that  mic
With the loudest voice from falsehoods
Approach corses with clean immunity
Start it at the grassroots, link society
Let them new the deathly effects of
Corona. Tell them, let them raise an
Inferno against Coronavirus.
The poem is main focus on the pessimist paranoid on coronavirus. There a contemporary fear that arouses through the persona's mind, Which has been clearly manifested in some.
There are also some precautionary measures as recommended by the World Health Organization, The poet Persona in hes awareness stipulates some simple measures as, How vulnerable African countries are to the pandemics outbreaks of COVID 19.
SøułSurvivør Dec 2019
Esoteric Eleanor...
Is a woman set apart
She has an obscure interest
In a certain type of art.

She collects her little fairies
Has an interest in old tomes
Has few, if any, closer friends
Has tons of garden gnomes.

She owns a run-down mansion
With lots of dusty rooms
Her letters closed with sealing wax
She speaks in garbled runes.

She met her fate one cloudy day
Oh yes, she is quite dead.
Her foot slipped on the marbles
That spilled out of her head!

Yes, she lost her footing
Alas, she is no more
Lies within her antique coffin
Esoteric Eleanor.

Catherine Jarvis
(C) 12/15/2019
This poem kind of evolved... I really don't know how! NOT about anyone specific. Just alliteration of words for the title.
sofia May 2019
I desperately grasp at your clothes while I
drown in the void, a foreboding farewell
The changing of seasons
The changing of ages
When was it again that I fell?
Down at the shoreline
Where the sea and the sky
meet, an immense divide.
Deafening self-made arguments
What day will I finally die?
anna Mar 2019
I only caught glimpses of his eyes while he spoke

words, lacerating this pneuma

and stuffing superlatives in this innermost being.

the wisdom I believed I possessed tumbled like Jericho

and I could hear the audacious screams of the Israelites

like blood torrents in arteries.

it’s a shame, I thought. He had a good heart.

pomegranate pnumbras flicker like fire behind my eyelids

and it burns there, too.

can I leave?

a smooth muscle ***** pumps blood and serotonin through platelets back into arteries

and I hungrily drink this newfound oxygen.

and all around the splintered cage

I saw orange slice smiles and white yacht clouds drifting through a blue ocean.

but a quick slip up pulled me away

and the faceless effigy stood pristine with metaphorical eyes,

of which I only caught a glimpse.
Bo Tansky Oct 2018
Say what
Say what was that you said?
So glib, so sure, so true.
Sweet talking you.
Hey, money talks
Ted Talks
Pep talks
Heart Talks
Talk, talk, talk
He talks strategic arms
And limitations talks
He talks the talk
And walks the walk
She’ll talk strategic arms
And limitations talks
If you want to
If it pleases you
If it keeps you safe
Makes you comfortable
She knows  
He knows
Well, no one quite knows what he knows

Say what?
What was that you just said
Between strategic arms and limitation talks
I heard you say

“The preliminary party of your subsequent and diplomatic arrangement of the nuclear accord.”

“Say what?
What was that you just said”
He continued with the thread.

“the inspirational and endless table talk of the North Korean faction is out of their minds”

“Say what?
What was that you just said.”
Between you and me
I completely agree
As preposterous as that can be
Let’s call an ace an ace
And get out of the race
No argument from me
I completely agree.
Encouraged he continued.

“Yeah, well the weekly fourth coming and regular meeting of the extraordinary bicentennial convenes.”

You don’t say
They’ll likely have it their way.
But, I don’t quite understand.
Do you think you could elaborate on the plan?

He continued:
“The unemployment rate is up and production is down, but we're about to turn everything around.”

Say What?
Is that what you mean?
He continued to be explainful.
But it was so painful
That I tuned him out
Losing my cool
And began to shout.

Say what
Say what the ****
What does it all mean.
I began to scream

Nothing, nothing at all
But congratulations
You said it so well
That no one could tell
What more do you need
It was pretty indeed
And you said it so well.
That no one could tell.
Richie Aug 2018
We all want to live a happy and peaceful life but life is full of uncertainty. We always want things to happen as to how we design it but for some reason, an unexplainable force is trying to meddle causing us to sometimes detour.  We all live an enigmatic life, enthralling and at times, frustrating.

Like most ordinary people, I want to be happy too but I don't take full control over it. I've once read a quote from one of the coffee shops. They posted this on the wall saying, 'We're all given a paddle to propel and steer". But, the question is for how long should I be holding that paddle for me to stay on track. I am hurting and will always be. If there's someone up there who'd be able to grant my heart's wish, please hear me. All of my wishes failed, but I ask God to grant me HAPPINESS.

To all of the people along the way who hurt me, lied to me, betrayed me and broke my heart. DON'T WORRY, I don't hate you at all. In fact, I am always thankful that we crossed paths because you helped me to become a better person.

I want to be wild, beautiful and free just like the ocean.
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