Laughter from Another Room
by Michael R. Burch

Laughter from another room
mocks the anguish that I feel;
as I sit alone and brood,
only you and I are real.

Only you and I are real.
Only you and I exist.
Only burns that blister heal.
Only dreams denied persist.

Only dreams denied persist.
Only hope that lingers dies.
Only love that lessens lives.
Only lovers ever cry.

Only lovers ever cry.
Only sinners ever pray.
Only saints are crucified.
The crucified are always saints.

The crucified are always saints.
The maddest men control the world.
The dumb man knows what he would say;
the poet never finds the words.

The poet never finds the words.
The minstrel never hits the notes.
The minister would love to curse.
The warrior longs to spare his foe.

The warrior longs to spare his foe.
The scholar never learns the truth.
The actors never see the show.
The hangman longs to feel the noose.

The hangman longs to feel the noose.
The artist longs to feel the flame.
The proudest men are not aloof;
the guiltiest are not to blame.

The guiltiest are not to blame.
The merriest are prone to brood.
If we go outside, it rains.
If we stay inside, it floods.

If we stay inside, it floods.
If we dare to love, we fear.
Blind men never see the sun;
other men observe through tears.

Other men observe through tears
the passage of these days of doom;
now I listen and I hear
laughter from another room.

Laughter from another room
mocks the anguish that I feel.
As I sit alone and brood,
only you and I are real.

Keywords/Tags: laughter, mockery, ridicule, another, room, anguish, brood, real, reality, dreams, persist, lovers, sinners, saints, madmen, poets, artists, minstrels, ministers, warriors, scholars, actors, proud, guilty, merry, blind, tears

silly blue bird
don’t you know
warmth and laughter
have no end

you cannot divide it
like chocolate
to be carefully parceled out
and unlike chocolate
when you run out

you simply make more

One.

Lost and alone
He gathers up his things
And disappears into the unknown.

Two.

Inseparable, like yin and yang.
They watch the sun set
As their bodies tangle together.

Three.

Best friends forever
And the third wheel.
Watching quietly, she’s alone in a crowd.

Four.

Laughing, talking, joking.
They form a tight circle,
Keeping the happiness inside.

Five.

Watching from the sidelines,
Waiting for an opening.
He wants to join in just a moment too late.

Six.

The light of my life
The bane of my existence.
She pulls out a knife to comfort a child.

Five.

He reaches out a hand,
waiting to be seen.
She takes it.

Four.

They’re closed off from the world,
blinded by reality.
She opens their eyes.

Three.

Wishing someone will truly see her.
She looks at her
And smiles.

Two.

Alone together,
They’re lost in their own world.
She gives them something to hope for.

One.

He’s achieving the impossible
But not the mundane.
She offers him friendship.

Six.

She means love.
She means life.
She means wild card.

When she laughs, it is a musical sound that thrums and resonates with the trill of the hummingbird, the rippling of the lake, the falling petals of the cherry blossom tree, her voice a melody that resounds within their heart.

The cherub and her
balloons waited,
patiently,
For her companion,
The sun.
He rises roaring
with laughter,
from the east.

They hold hands,
and frolic in merry,
he fills her eyes
with the sunshine of divine.
As time ticks,
They hop to the beat,
of her heart,
to the west.

Where she bids him
farewell,
To the higher beyond
he goes,
as she, shares
her sunshine,
with the ghouls
among her.

I thought to tell a joke to lighten up and bring a smile to the day.
To bring a little laughter and set my words on out to play.

I started with the Englishman, the Irish guy and a Scot.
But someone called me racist so the first line was all they got.

I then started to tell of a woman in the guise of a blonde joke.
But no sooner had I started all the feminists did I provoke.

As I sought to carry on to bring a smile to someone's face.
I found that all types of what was humour today is out of place.

I find that I am judged a racist and even sexist or a homophobe.
And you can no longer laugh at women or talk of **** probe.

You cant talk of a shuttle **** washed up on a Florida beach.
And any joke about the clergy is well and truly out of reach.

I don't think there is a topic that the world finds hilarious anymore.
Unless that is why Trump was elected and what we have him for.

Laughing, we dare each other
to jump into the crystal-clear fountains
and gaze at the bright blue sky
obstructed only by the Eiffel Tower in the distance.
Our splashes alert the security guards and we run,
unable to keep from giggling as they yell after us.
Stumbling towards a field of lush green grass,
we collapse against each other and grin,
comfortable in our warm silence.
As twilight nears, we splurge
on freshly-baked pastries
and gelato the color of emeralds,
huddling against the cold
in our soaking wet turtleneck sweaters.
Fingers intertwined, we run through the city streets
until we don't remember which way we came.
We slow, panting through our smiles
as we take in our surroundings.
We're on a bridge, the dark skies and glistening stars
reflected by the rippling water below.
We stop a vendor packing up for the night
and write our names on a golden lock.
We hook it to the bridge and throw away the key,
watching it sparkle in the moonlight
before sinking into the water
and drifting to the river bottom.
She cups my face in her hand
and leans in close
so the swirling fog from our breaths meld into one
and warms our flushed cheeks.
I gently pull her against me and close the distance between us,
our lips speaking more than the most beautiful poems
and our love as infinite as the skies stretching above us.

The closer you got, the more I clenched my fists nervously and avoided your gazes. A poor attempt at avoiding the inevitable close proximity that we both weren’t going to protest.