‘Like a graceful
yet mighty arrow
I saw you
shooting through the town
with the name “Adventure”
upon you.
I saw your coat fluttering
with wind’s madness,
irises of deeper colour
than the darkest tree’s bark,
nose drugged with the scent
of Poetry transcripted
and bare feet carrying with themselves
the heraldry of freedom
and a better world.
With books from faraway lands,
of wonders,
as a shield on your chest
from all that’s choked,
ideas unattainable to the Black Pit, thoughts
and dreams piercing
the surroundings’ façade
and the Village whirling into blur
from the speed of yours,
every time you’re the most beautiful feature
among the trash bins we live in.
Couldn’t take my eyes
and thoughts of you…’
Pero nadie se da cuenta,
nadie lo escupe por los dientes.
Ahogados por el tiempo
no me ven/sienten fluyendo entre ellos,
no ven la Esperanza
por debajo de sus parpados.
Como magia o viento vuelo,
espero hasta que alguien
me capture
con esta atención
en un jarrón
y me susurre
un amor así
como arriba.

Lost in the rabble and drunk in the street,
Drowning in beer and gnawing fresh meat,
This is the way all men should live,
Leaving nothing behind like flour through a sieve,
Give me one reason why I should care?
Watch me dance and show off my flare,
The world burns and leaves everything in ash,
I don't give a hoot and to prove it I'll give you a flash,
I'm having fun and don't you dare judge me.

Dancer
by Michael R. Burch

You will never change;
you range,
investing passion in the night,
waltzing through
a blinding blue,
immaculate and fabled light.

Do not despair
or wonder where
the others of your race have fled.
They left you here
to gin and beer
and won't return till you are bled

of fantasy
and piety,
of brewing passion like champagne,
of storming through
without a clue,
but finding answers fall like rain.

They left.
You laughed,
but now you sigh
for ages,
stages
slipping by.

You pause;
applause
is all you hear.
You dance,
askance,
as drunkards cheer.

Keywords/Tags: dancer, waltz, waltzing, applause, drink, drunkards, neon light, strobe, flash, flashing, crystal ball, chandelier, lap dancer, exotic dancer, stripper, peeler, strip, striptease artist, burlesque, Moulin Rogue, dance, passion, champagne, gin, beer

Our English Rose
by Michael R. Burch

for Christine Ena Burch

The rose is—
the ornament of the earth,
the glory of nature,
the archetype of the flowers,
the blush of the meadows,
a lightning flash of beauty.

NOTE: This is my translation of a Sappho epigram. It was originally titled "Sappho's Rose" before I chose to dedicate it to my mother, Christine Ena Burch, who was born and raised in England. Keywords/Tags: Rose, ornament, glory, nature, archetype, flowers, blush, meadows, flash, beauty, lightning

I dream that the frogs in my backyard have wings
and they fly up to the trees
in the dewy light of dawn
to meet their maker
and kiss under the canopied shade of listless leaves
grazing their backs
and reminding them of simpler times
down from the watery swamp they came from
their webbed feet leave prints on the bark
muddy and cumbersome
but innocent in their doings
a flash flood of lightning  awakens me
i'm laying in damp earth again
time to go back inside

FLASH

"the exposure looks kinda funny"
"maybe just adjust the aperture a bit"
"add in the lighting"
"is the white balance set?"

the chair squeaks as it moves to the left
the weight shifts the couch in their direction
heat radiates from the family
whose fake smiles are nearly as blinding as the flash from the camera
despite the tripod, the camera sits off kilter
like the uneasy tension in the room
it feels hot--no, sweltering
unsettled emotions sit like
discarded mail
away and out of sight

CLICK

"Okay, we're good"

and the family heads off in their separate ways
with no goodbyes for the others