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Man Jun 2023
How little men control
Their own destinies.
At a lost,
As to my internal monologue,
In a deluge of constant questioning.
And as to the control I do command,
With what to, is done?
As to the destiny I am ******,
Is it better to dither from forver, hitherto?
Or slaughter fear, and give anxiety the rub.
Chris Chaffin Jan 2021
There was nowhere
left for her to turn,
after the rains
came and washed him away.

So she lay down
upon the softened meadow,
lost in a stream
of consciousness.

She tucked herself in
between the sheets of Ulysses
and dreamt with both eyes open,
eating lotus fruit and flowers
as the river widened its mouth.
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Circe
by Michael R. Burch

She spoke
and her words
were like a ringing echo dying
or like smoke
rising and drifting
while the earth below is spinning.
She awoke
with a cry
from a dream that had no ending,
without hope
or strength to rise,
into hopelessness descending.
And an ache
in her heart
toward that dream, retreating,
left a wake
of small waves
in circles never completing.

Originally published by Romantics Quarterly

Keywords/Tags: Circe, enigma, enigmatic, enchantress, siren, enchanted, witch, goddess, magic, Ulysses, pigs, sty



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
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
I AM!
by Michael R. Burch

I am not one of ten billion—I—
sunblackened Icarus, chary fly,
staring at God with a quizzical eye.

I am not one of ten billion, I.

I am not one life has left unsquashed—
scarred as Ulysses, goddess-debauched,
pale glowworm agleam with a tale of panache.

I am not one life has left unsquashed.

I am not one without spots of disease,
laugh lines and tan lines and thick-callused knees
from begging and praying and girls sighing "Please!"

I am not one without spots of disease.

I am not one of ten billion—I—
scion of Daedalus, blackwinged fly
staring at God with a sedulous eye.

I am not one of ten billion, I
AM!

Keywords/Tags: I, AM, ego, individual, individuality, character, Icarus, Daedalus, Ulysses, fly, gadfly, chary, wary, quizzical, questioning, panache, sedulous, heretical



jesus hates me, this i know
by michael r. burch

jesus hates me, this I know,
for Church libel tells me so:
“little ones to him belong”
but if they use their dongs, so long!
     yes, jesus hates me!
     yes, jesus baits me!
     yes, he berates me!
    Church libel tells me so!

jesus fleeces us, i know,
for Religion scams us so:
little ones are brainwashed to
believe god saves the Chosen Few!
yes, jesus fleeces!
yes, he deceases
the bunny and the rhesus
because he’s mad at you!

jesus hates me—christ who died
so i might be crucified:
for if i use my **** or brain,
that will drive the “lord” insane!
     yes, jesus hates me!
     yes, jesus baits me!
     yes, he berates me!
    Church libel tells me so!

jesus hates me, this I know,
for Church libel tells me so:
first fools tell me “look above,”
that christ’s the lamb and god’s the dove,
but then they sentence me to Hell
for using my big brain too well!
     yes, jesus hates me!
     yes, jesus baits me!
     yes, he berates me!
    Church libel tells me so!
Rowan S Jan 2019
I'd like to say
If I'd have stayed
I wouldn't be here now
But truthfully
Inquiring
Will only sink me down
Pass memories
That mock and tease
Ulysses' siren song
The jagged rocks
Seductive talks
Carry my soul along
Joe Thompson Oct 2016
Long forgotten in poems and prose
Are the tribulations of a person’s toes.
Perhaps the likes of the great Ulysses
Are all afraid that they will sound like sissies -
If, in a battle full of strife and woe
They should take a moment to say “ouch, my toe!”
(though no one thought twice to hear Achilles squeal,
“I can’t go on - I broke a heel”
So go on and whine if you stub your toe -
be like: “this little piggie went to battle - Yo!”
Tommy W Jan 2014
The Wandering Rocks

Ulysses was a hero
With his very own crew
They blew through the ocean
On a boat full of supplies

They sailed out of darkness
Into the light
Back to the world they knew
As they sailed home
They heard a sound, the crew couldn't describe
Not a man or a seagull
But a sound all the same
Whistled through and around

The crew glanced back
Behind the aft of the boat
To the unnoticed sight
There were a group of rocks
All jagged and small
Far into the distance all right

But as the crew watched the rocks
They seemed to grow over time
It was a peculiar sight
To see

The crew moved on by Ulysses order to row
Then Ulysses set sights for land
A land called Thrinacia,
Isle of the Sun Titan
In hopes the rocks stop the chase
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