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Summer 7d
Fickle is the
swirling haze of purple clouds
whispering phantom pleasure of a fleeting crowd
soft lilac and sorrowful wisteria
musing with the late spring’s hysteria
I am posting poems with pictures to better conjure the imagination in my poetic instagram account! You can find me in @xsummerblues if any of you are interested :)))
Simon B Oct 12
the nurse girl left me
she's not going to marry
I say told you so
Slime-God Oct 4
Rain makes me feel safe.
I’ve long found home in the storm...
Why can’t it just stay?
I know it's selfish, but if I had my way, the rain would never stop.
by Michael R. Burch

a bitter
ache to bear . . .

once starlight
in your hair . . .

a shining there
as brief
as rare.

Regret . . .
a pain
I chose to bear . . .

the torrent
of your hair . . .

and show me
once again―
how rare.

Published by The HyperTexts and The Chained Muse

White Goddess
by Michael R. Burch

White in the shadows
I see your face,
unbidden. Go, tell

Love it is commonplace;
tell Regret it is not so rare.

Our love is not here
though you smile,
full of sedulous grace.

Lost in darkness, I fear
the past is our resting place.

Published by Carnelian, The Chained Muse, Poetry Life & Times, A-Poem-A-Day and in a YouTube video by Aurora G. with the titles "Ghost, " "White Goddess" and "White in the Shadows."

The Stake
by Michael R. Burch

Love, the heart bets,
if not without regrets,
will still prove, in the end,
worth the light we expend
mining the dark
for an exquisite heart.

Originally published by The Lyric

by Michael R. Burch

If I regret
fire in the sunset
exploding on the horizon,
then let me regret loving you.

If I forget
even for a moment
that you are the only one,
then let me forget that the sky is blue.

If I should yearn
in a season of discontentment
for the vagabond light of a companionless moon,
let dawn remind me that you are my sun.

If I should burn―one moment less brightly,
one instant less true―
then with wild scorching kisses,
inflame me, inflame me, inflame me anew.

Originally published by The HyperTexts

The Effects of Memory
by Michael R. Burch

A black ringlet
curls to lie
at the nape of her neck,
glistening with sweat
in the evaporate moonlight ...
This is what I remember

now that I cannot forget.

And tonight,
if I have forgotten her name,
I remember:
rigid wire and white lace
half-impressed in her flesh ...

our soft cries, like regret,

... the enameled white clips
of her bra strap
still inscribe dimpled marks
that my kisses erase ...

now that I have forgotten her face.

Published by Poetry Magazine, La luce che non muore (Italy), Kritya (India), The Eclectic Muse (Canada), Carnelian, Triplopia, Net Poetry and Art Competition, Poetry Life & Times, Strange Road, Inspirational Stories, and Centrifugal Eye. Also e-mailed to over 20,000 subscribers by and read aloud to a live audience as part of the Candlelight Reading Series.

Villanelle: Because Her Heart Is Tender
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

She scrawled soft words in soap: "Never Forget,"
Dove-white on her car's window, and the wren,
because her heart is tender, might regret
it called the sun to wake her. As I slept,
she heard lost names recounted, one by one.

She wrote in sidewalk chalk: "Never Forget,"
and kept her heart's own counsel. No rain swept
away those words, no tear leaves them undone.

Because her heart is tender with regret,
bruised by razed towers' glass and steel and stone
that shatter on and on and on and on,
she stitches in wet linen: "NEVER FORGET,"
and listens to her heart's emphatic song.

The wren might tilt its head and sing along
because its heart once understood regret
when fledglings fell beyond, beyond, beyond ...
its reach, and still the boot-heeled world strode on.

She writes in adamant: "NEVER FORGET"
because her heart is tender with regret.

Published by Neovictorian/Cochlea, The Villanelle, The Eclectic Muse, Nietzsche Twilight, Nutty Stories (South Africa), Poetry Renewal Magazine and Other Voices International

Lucifer, to the Enola Gay
by Michael R. Burch

Go then,
and give them my meaning
so that their teeming
become my city.

Bring back a pretty
a chrysanthemum,
perhaps, to bloom
if but an hour,
within a certain room
of mine
the sun does not rise or fall,
and the moon,
although it is content to shine,
helps nothing at all.

if I hear the wistful call
of their voices
regretting choices
or perhaps not made
in time,
I can look back upon it and recall,
in all
its pale forms sublime,
Death will never be holy again.

Published by Romantics Quarterly, Penny Dreadful and Poetry Life & Times

by Michael R. Burch

Christ, how I miss you!,
though your parting kiss is still warm on my lips.

Now the floor is not strewn with your stockings and slips
and the dishes are all stacked away.

You left me today ...
and each word left unspoken now whispers regrets.

Originally published by The HyperTexts

Having Touched You
by Michael R. Burch

What I have lost
is not less
than what I have gained.

And for each moment passed
like the sun to the west,
another remained,

suspended in memory
like a flower in crystal
so that eternity

is but an hour, and fall
is no longer a season
but a state of mind.

I have no reason
to wait; the wind
does not pause for remembrance

or regret
because there is only fate and chance.
And so then, forget...

Forget we were utterly
happy a day.
That day was my lifetime.

Before that day I was empty
and the sky was grey.
You were the sunshine:

the sunshine that gave me life.
I took root and I grew.
Now the touch of death is like a terrible knife,

and yet I can bear it,
having touched you.

Originally published by The HyperTexts. I wrote this poem as a teenager after watching "The Boy in the Plastic Bubble": a made-for-TV movie, circa 1976, starring John Travolta. Keywords/Tags: regret, regrets, remorse, contrition, remonstrance, pain, sorrow, suffering, memory, memories, remembrance, rue, ruefulness, compunction, pang, pangs, pangs of conscience
Piyush Sharma Sep 28
When you're tired of acting all good,
Acting all happy, smiling even when you don't want to,
With time flying through...
You just forget what actually HAPPINESS means?
And then your existence is a mess.
Neither relishing in its satisfaction...
Nor filled with tears of contrition.
I'm not sad...
I just like dropping lines of the crucial side.
XslyfoxX Sep 16
Never really been sober minded
Seeking life- might never find it
Lying on a plateau
Pretend it’s a mountain I climbed.

Did it all start with divorce?
Did it start with my mah?
Or when the kid molested me in the back seat of a car?
For any light in my life I caught fireflies
But someone opened and let them all out of the jar.

I can’t lie and I can’t hide
I got called out on the pathetic way I lived my life.
womanizing just pain hiding
If any of you read this- I’m sorry I’m trying.
You don’t have to forgive
I don’t expect any of it at all.
Just know that now when I look at my wife and my baby I hold nothing but hate for the person I was and just know I hate myself in my heart.

I always claimed to be Christian
I always claimed to love God.
I know I Spit in His face with my actions I don’t know how He forgive me at all.

Nearly stopped my heart a couple times
Till friends I couldn’t love stopped by
I didn’t appreciate their hearts, didn’t appreciate they love me
So I lashed out and attacked them all
And I pushed and I pushed till they shoved me.

Honestly I’m really scared
To brutally, honestly tell you the truth
I’m terrified I’ll hurt my bride and my children like I did all if you.

Wether it’s getting high off Percocet
Or **** and lying on the Internet,
Wether it’s puking in toilets from too much to drink
Or getting so I can’t see and/or speak

I’ve seen her crying real tears
So I’ve had to start to face my fears.

My mommy problems and abandonment Issues
Are no reason to treat her like this.

Hi, my name is Blair and I am an addict
Just so you all now, I’m no longer at it.
I can understand why you hate me so much
And I know why you say nothing but negative things, I know why you just can’t get passed it.

I know why still years after
You’re writing emails to my pastor
And saying all of these horrible things not believing I can change and that’s facts.

I try every day to not hate myself
Because I know that’s not how God sees me.
I know I am nothing but a pervert and drunk
Till cried for my savior to save me.

I know you don’t believe it.
I know you hate me it’s no secret.
And I admit to being the monster you think I am years ago
I promise I’m no longer in that pit.

I admit that I punished myself
I admit that I was living like hell.
I admit I was selfish and deserved to be kicked out of Homestead for not thinking of anyone else.

Those were the best friends i ever knew
They were honest, and open and loving and true.
And I’m mad at myself for pushing away
To the point they don’t even know my child’s  name.

Some of you got your payback
To the point we’re still being harassed
People are making fake Grindr accounts
Assuming  it’s me without me being asked.

I’ve made mistakes and that’s and understatement
I can’t take it back- I’ll never change it.
Please accept my sincerest apologies
And let’s just go back to being decent.

To the women I’ve burned
I’m sorry,
To my brothers,
I’m sorry
To everyone who thinks that I’ll never change
I’m sorry and I’m trying.
This holds a lot of inside information that only certain people who may never read this will understand.

I lived my life horribly and selfishly. I went after personal gain and personal revenge for being hurt.
I have always been afraid of rejection and fear that my wife- like my many others will emotionally, or physically abandon me.
I have been on a journey of discovering my issues and trying to overcome them for the best part of 4 years.
To some people that’s not a long time.
I have been told that I am not able to serve in the church because of how I acted going back to when I was a preteen.
I have been accused of things I didn’t do because I hVe a history of doing things like it in the past.
I am still a recovering pill addict and make strong attempts to stay for away from alcohol.
I understand that God’s forgiveness and my wife’s acceptance as well as the birth of my child does not equal owning and dealing with issues I caused, or issues that I have.
No matter if I’m forgiven or not, no matter if there is truly a God or not, I am deeply sorry for the people who have been angered by me, scared because of me or cried because of me.
At one point in my life, I did not care about any of those people- although I was convinced I did.
I was not a Christian I just thought I was.
I was not much of a man at all.  I just thought I was.
Jessica Duru Aug 23
With my eyes,
I look up to the clouds,
my heart seeking for redemption,
wondering if it will ever be for me

I gaze endlessly at the heavens,
searching for God's salvation;
raising my voice so he would hear me,
and save me from the hands of devourers out to destroy!

To him I go crying,
my voice ringing bitterly as I call out to him,
with my knees kissing the bare ground!

From his heavenly throne,
He looks down to me,
watching every step I take,
and hearing every word that eludes my lips;
My heart is searched,
and buried within,
lies an ocean of sin
But yet true remorse is found,
and I be purged with hyssop,
and made a new creation

A Cry For Mercy
Dear Lord,
I look up to you,
and with thine heart,
seek your salvation;
praying that you'd hear my voice,
and the voice of your children from whence you're seated
On your heavenly throne

Holy Lord,
we assemble in your presence,
our knees kissing your holy grounds,
crying and calling out to you;
so we may be purged,
and washed wholly with hyssop,
So our hearts be cleansed,
and our mind put at ease....

The poet personae here is no different from sinners. He goes pleading for mercy, praying that he gets another chance and be cleansed from every iniquity he has committed. We can make reference to our biblical, David, who'd committed a thousand sin to count but was yet forgiven and made pure again....
Nolan Willett Aug 15
It’s hard to be here
And to be sincere
When you run on caffeine
And fear
But it’s easy to be coarse
To stay indoors
When you see the whole world through
The filter of remorse
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