hymn to Apollo
by Michael R. Burch

something of sunshine attracted my i
as it lazed on the afternoon sky,
golden, splashed on the easel of god;
what, i thought,
could this elfin stuff be,
to, phantomlike, flit
through tall trees
on fall days, such as these?

and the breeze
whispered a dirge
to the vanishing light;
enchoired with the evening, it sang;
its voice enchantedly rang
chanting “Night!” . . .

till all the bright light
retired,
expired.

This poem appeared in my high school literary journal, the Lantern, so it was written by age 18, but probably around age 16 or 17. That was my "cummings" period. Keywords/Tags: sun, god, sunshine, Apollo, elfin, phantom, ghostly, magical, enchanted, bright, light, brilliant, sky, golden



Moon Lake
by Michael R. Burch

Starlit recorder of summer nights,
what magic spell bewitches you?
They say that all lovers love first in the dark...
Is it true?
Is it true?
Is it true?

Starry-eyed seer of all that appears
and all that has appeared—
What sights have you seen?
What dreams have you dreamed?
What rhetoric have you heard?

Is love an oration,
or is it a word?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?

I believe I wrote this poem in my late teens, during my “Romantic Period.”



Tomb Lake
by Michael R. Burch

Go down to the valley
  where mockingbirds cry,
  alone, ever lonely . . .
  yes, go down to die.
And dream in your dying
  you never shall wake.
  Go down to the valley;
  go down to Tomb Lake.
Tomb Lake is a cauldron
  of souls such as yours —
  mad souls without meaning,
  frail souls without force.
Tomb Lake is a graveyard
  reserved for the dead.
  They lie in her shallows
  and sleep in her bed.

I believe this poem and "Moon Lake" were companion poems, written around my senior year in high school, in 1976. In addition to having similar titles, they had similar "staircase" indention styles. According to my notes, I modified "Moon Lake" two years later in 1978, at which time the poem was substantially finished. I then modified "Tomb Lake" in 1981, but must have forgotten about it, because I don't show that I ever submitted the poem for publication or did anything with it for more than 40 years. Keywords/Tags: Moon, Lake, Lakes, Water, Reflection, Reflections, Image, Imagery, Mirror, Magic, Magician, Seer, Prophet, Shaman, Spell, Spells, Enchantment, Sorcery, Bewitchment, Bewilderment, Incantation, Rhapsody, Love Talk, Love Potion

don't ******* text your friends while
you're ******* driving and now
i'm this close to throwing your phone
out the window and into the highway so
put your phone down because
i'm trying to talk to you
and right now i'm trying to ******* say
that you shouldn't ******* text your friends
when you're behind the wheel
because you can crash and **** someone
and you're important to me
and i don't ******* want you or me to die
and if you're important to me then
i'm willing to spend my ******* time on you
and when i spend my time on someone
i'm pretty much just spending my ******* money
and you already know that most of the time
i don't have any ******* money and if i did
i would be spending that money on sunshine
and time to try and make us happier so
if you don't like what i have to offer
then i'm telling you to say ******* to my offer
and to stop being a coward and
to tell me how you really feel or
just get the hell out of here because
if you're wasting my money already
i refuse to let you waste my ******* time because
i've already spent years wasted on you
but you won't ******* love me back
the way i ******* love you and
instead every single time when
i want to leave you just have to pull me back
because you think that it's a great
decision to drag me along to
all of your ******* adventures with
all of your ******* friends and
all of your ******* boyfriends only
to ******* tell me that i never
really stood a chance with you
and that you just want us to be friends
but clearly you don't even understand how
to ******* be friends with someone
because if you ******* did you would be
talking to me in the car right now
and not texting your friends and
flirting with me nonstop and
i wouldn't have to be ******* remind you
how ******* dangerous it is
to text and drive.

My lovely sun, remember this:
No matter how many times
the clouds attempt to smother your light,
you will never fail to shine through them

Hot spring light pours into each room of my flat,
Cool air fills all the spaces left,
The steam from my mint tea lifts into my nose and reminds me of all the mint teas I've sipped over time,
In vast, cold cafes of museums with my mum,
In damp festival fields sprinkled in orange light from ferris wheels and burger vans,
In shaded gardens over lunch, brunch, tea and breakfast,
And on fiercely cold nights with candles flickering off of every wall, tea held right to my nose making my cheeks tacky from the steam.
There's comfort in mint tea, like crocheted blankets and gravy and hot mash and staring at a body of water when everything feels ******,
I could draw a map of me using mint tea as a compass,
Crisp, and hot.