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How could I bury something
that never
died

Pull me apart and
use me.
We cannot be whole

Map the network
of my veins;
entangle
within me

We cannot escape
this orbit
but we could
crash together

There would be beauty in that
Simon Jul 26
I believe I can... Because of one device. Faith! Believing in faith can turn everything either upside down or take control of the situation and minus that very cause in one single pulse of a heartbeat!
Believing in something is either a countermeasure for disaster! Or it can be something you totally never would have ever expected!
during my wait
there is a question
from heart
my heart

no it does not
belongs to one
you know

i know
the first steal happens
immediately at once
stealing occurs

it could go
i got happiness
my eyes sees blossoms

open every pulse
doing by my heart
sorry, it becomes your heart

so it feared
who belongs to that cute
be  worry to be dismissed
the time goes good when your smile attends and my heart shows your face
The Quickening
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

I never meant to love you
when I held you in my arms
promising you sagely
wise, noncommittal charms.

And I never meant to need you
when I touched your tender lips
with kisses that intrigued my own –
such kisses I had never known,
nor a heartbeat in my fingertips!

Keywords/Tags: love, quickening, lips, tender, kisses, intrigued, intriguing, heart, heartbeat, pulse, desire
Fountainhead
by Michael R. Burch

I did not delight in love so much
as in a kiss like linnets’ wings,
the flutterings of a pulse so soft
the heart remembers, as it sings:

to bathe there was its transport, brushed
by marble lips, or porcelain,—
one liquid kiss, one cool outburst
from pale rosettes. What did it mean ...

to float awhirl on minute tides
within the compass of your eyes,
to feel your alabaster bust
grow cold within? Ecstatic sighs

seem hisses now; your eyes, serene,
reflect the sun’s pale tourmaline.

Published by Romantics Quarterly, Poetica Victorian, PW Review, Nutty Stories (South Africa), Inspirational Stories, Poetry Life & Times

Keywords/Tags: Fountain, love, heart, pulse, bathe, kiss, sun, marble, bust, tides, sighs, eyes, sun, tourmaline
In Praise of Meter
by Michael R. Burch

The earth is full of rhythms so precise
the octave of the crystal can produce
a trillion oscillations, yet not lose
a second’s beat. The ear needs no device
to hear the unsprung rhythms of the couch
drown out the mouth’s; the lips can be debauched
by kisses, should the heart put back its watch
and find the pulse of love, and sing, devout.

If moons and tides in interlocking dance
obey their numbers, what’s been left to chance?
Should poets be more lax—their circumstance
as humble as it is?—or readers wince
to see their ragged numbers thin, to hear
the moans of drones drown out the Chanticleer?

Published by Poetry Porch/Sonnet Scroll, The Eclectic Muse, The Best of the Eclectic Muse 1989-2003, Famous Poets & Poems, Poetry Renewal Magazine, Mindful of Poetry, Sonnetto Poesia, Trinacria and Poetry Life & Times

Keywords/Tags: Rhythm, rhyme, meter, beat, music, octave, heart, pulse, watch, numbers
Thomas W Case Feb 29
I first heard the
lullaby in the
womb.
It has a pulse
and rhythm.
It was embedded in
my tissue and cells.
And when I was shot out,
****** and naked,
the cord was cut.
The journey began.

At five years old,
I remember closing
my eyes , and lying
down to go to sleep,
it felt like I was
being rocked.
I wonder if the
subconscious mind was
remembering the
rhythm of the womb.
My Mom--pregnant with me
walking upstairs--downstairs,
elevators
escalators
movement
pulse,
the eternal lullaby of
the womb.
When I closed my
eyes, it felt like I
was being rocked.
It felt like I was
in a swing;
back and forth.
Easy, like a fragrant
spring night.

I feel and here the
pulse--the rhythm,
the heart in everything.
In footsteps--in the wind,
in the ancient river, and
in the mermaid's song.
I feel it in
the beating of the
hummingbird's wings.
I see it in
Van Gogh's jagged sky,
in the flight pattern
of the wasp.

There is a rhythm in
death and birth.
Oh my God, the rapture of
the rhythm of love and
joy--so sublime.
The primal beat of a
heartbreak--pain,
like painting with
blood.
So real
too lucid.
Icarus, let's fly into
the sun, drunk on
***** or cheap wine.
We'll escape--liquid smooth,
until our wings melt,
and we fall back down,
crash
to the pulse
the rhythm
***  ***
***  ***
***  ***.

Sometimes,
I wish I were
a rock.
Manas Jan 3
Dreams now supine
Rotting into fantasies
Oblivious to the schism
Preferences decided
By an algorithm
The scorching sun
This burning pyre
What more will it take
To set yourself on fire
Killing your instinct
Shaming is taming
****** oozing
You were born to be
A statutory warning
An inherent cast out.
The fuse is in your hands
Don’t you dare fizzle out.
You feel it
You repress it
A dynamite
Convinced it’s a firecracker.
Time to smell the gunpowder
Clickity click.
Trembles the wicker
To dust off the ashes
You must
Burn down the empire.
Proceed with no caution

Set yourself on fire.
Tizzop Dec 2019
your warm heart
is the pulse of my life

the sweetest speech is when
i speak to you anna

my salvation
my destiny

the sweetest blood is
your blood anna

your warm heart
is the pulse of my life

the pulse of my life
is your warm heart

my savior
my salvation

the pulse of our lifes
are our hearts

travel with me
i will take you away

forever anna
anna forever

a: absolute love
n: neverlanddreams
n: no other woman
a: absolute love

your name is a
frame

your reflection a
painting

anna+tizzop
tizzop+anna

and this white page has become a bole
our lovenames are engraved in wood

and wood never sinks in water
nothing more to add, baby
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