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Winter
by Michael R. Burch

The rose of love's bright promise
lies torn by her own thorn;
her scent was sweet
but at her feet
the pallid aphids mourn.

The lilac of devotion
has felt the winter ****
and shed her dress;
companionless,
she shivers—****, forlorn.

Published by Songs of Innocence, The Aurorean, Contemporary Rhyme and The HyperTexts

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Roses for a Lover, Idealized
by Michael R. Burch

When you have become to me
as roses bloom, in memory,
exquisite, each sharp thorn forgot,
will I recall—yours made me bleed?

When winter makes me think of you—
whorls petrified in frozen dew,
bright promises blithe spring forsook,
will I recall your words—barbed, cruel?

Published by The Lyric, La Luce Che Non Moure (Italy), The Chained Muse, Better Than Starbucks, Glass Facets of Poetry and Trinacria

###

The Donald Trumps the White House Roses
by Michael R. Burch

Roses are red,
Daffodils are yellow,
But not half as daffy
As that taffy-colored fellow.

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Isolde’s Song
by Michael R. Burch

According to legend, Isolde and Tristram/Tristan were lovers who died, were buried close to each other, then reunited in the form of plants growing out of their graves. A rose emerged from Isolde's grave, a vine from Tristram's, then the two became one. Tristram was the Celtic Orpheus, a minstrel whose songs set women and even nature a-flutter.

Through our long years of dreaming to be one
we grew toward an enigmatic light
that gently warmed our tendrils. Was it sun?
We had no eyes to tell; we loved despite
the lack of all sensation—all but one:
we felt the night’s deep chill, the air so bright
at dawn we quivered limply, overcome.
To touch was all we knew, and how to bask.
We knew to touch; we grew to touch; we felt
spring’s urgency, midsummer’s heat, fall’s lash,
wild winter’s ice and thaw and fervent melt.
We felt returning light and could not ask
its meaning, or if something was withheld
more glorious. To touch seemed life’s great task.
At last the petal of me learned: unfold
and you were there, surrounding me. We touched.
The curious golden pollens! Ah, we touched,
and learned to cling and, finally, to hold.

Originally published by The Raintown Review and nominated for the Pushcart Prize; since published by Ancient Heart Magazine (Australia), The Eclectic Muse (Canada), Boston Poetry Magazine, The Orchards Poetry Journal, Strange Road, On the Road with Judy, Complete Classics, FreeXpression (Australia), Better Than Starbucks, Fullosia Press, Glass Facets of Poetry, Sonnetto Poesia (Canada), The New Formalist and Trinacria

###

Will There Be Starlight
by Michael R. Burch

Will there be starlight
tonight
while she gathers
damask
and lilac
and sweet-scented heathers?

And will she find flowers,
or will she find thorns
guarding the petals
of roses unborn?

Will there be starlight
tonight
while she gathers
seashells
and mussels
and albatross feathers?

And will she find treasure
or will she find pain
at the end of this rainbow
of moonlight on rain?

Published by Grassroots Poetry, Poetry Webring, TALESetc, The Word (UK), Writ in Water, Jenion, Inspirational Stories, Famous Poets and Poems

###

She Gathered Lilacs
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

She gathered lilacs
and arrayed them in her hair;
tonight, she taught the wind to be free.

She kept her secrets
in a silver locket;
her companions were starlight and mystery.

She danced all night
to the beat of her heart;
with her tears she imbued the sea.

She hid her despair
in a crystal jar,
and never revealed it to me.

She kept her distance
as though it were armor;
gauntlet thorns guard her heart like the rose.

Love!—awaken, awaken
to see what you’ve taken
is still less than the due my heart owes!

Published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea, The Eclectic Muse (Canada), Shabestaneh (Iran), Anthology of Contemporary American Poetry, The Chained Muse, Inspirational Stories and Captivating Poetry (Anthology)

###

Auschwitz Rose
by Michael R. Burch

There is a Rose at Auschwitz, in the briar,
a rose like Sharon's, lovely as her name.
The world forgot her, and is not the same.
I still love her and extend this sacred fire
to keep her memory exalted flame
unmolested by the thistles and the nettles.

On Auschwitz now the reddening sunset settles!
They sleep alike—diminutive and tall,
the innocent, the "surgeons." Sleeping, all.
Red oxides of her blood, bright crimson petals,
if accidents of coloration, gall
my heart no less. Amid thick weeds and muck
there lies a rose man's crackling lightning struck:
the only Rose I ever longed to pluck.
Soon I'll bed there and bid the world "Good Luck."

Keywords/Tags: rose, roses, thorn, thorns, lilac, lilacs, spring, summer, fall, winter, seasons
Jace Joesph May 18
Whispers heard though out the night
Saying that they know all the truths
Don't let their lilac tongues fool you
They know of nothing
They are merely voices
lua Apr 15
it came in a flurry of pink and blue
my cotton candy days
of swirling colours down the length of my spine
down the length of my throat
pooling at the base of my feet
lilac tears and a blurry violet haze
puffing like smoke before my stinging eyes
and disappearing without a trace.
Mrs Timetable Feb 26
Two winged tiny seed
I wish I could be
To make the aroma
Of summer and spring
Died away broken
Came back strong
Surprise you with
Beauty of paints
Dripped from above
A whole parade for just you
So beautifully hued
For B.B.  you’re  in there
Cox Feb 13
Fall in to where it can begin.
Moon phase,
Orchid days.

Sweet bliss,
Wanting nothing more than to try your American kiss.

Heatwave.
Scorching skies,
White clouds in my love disguise.

I lay wanting to heal my pain.

Moon phase.
You cry,
Tears drowning flowers that lay nearby.
You stay,
Most don’t know why.

You live a lilac lie.

You take my Moon phase,
And I want to know why.

My tides,
My waves,
Reach my shoreline.

My sand was empty,
Completely still.

Now,
The grains of sand stand by me,
Pulling me at the knees.

Moon phase,
This night.
Emptying myself solemnly to the dark starlit night.
Kylee Nov 2019
You used to mean
E v e r y t h i n g
To me

Now you’re just lilac petals
Crushed under my
Heel

-over you
S O P H I E Nov 2019
my body is your canvas
lather lavender bites along my collar
leave lilac and imprints upon on my legs
press your lips to mine
and leave me blind
your love is artwork
all writings belong to sophia cannariato ©
Diya Nov 2019
I painted the sky lilac ..
With utopian crayons
That drenched me
In
an aesthetic
Rhapsody...!
Not visiting this site frequently due to exams!
Sorry for not reading your poetry...miss you,poets!
hannah in spring Sep 2019
I started the scarf
That I'm making for you
I **** at knitting
So don't be surprised
If the whole thing unravels
In your gentle hands
Just like I did
When we first met
It's her favorite colour, and it's super soft, and it's absolutely ridiculously hard to knit (I refuse to accept the possibility that I just can't knit).
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