I was born a poet
forever-be
before I realized
I was sneaking behind
plastered brick walls
at recess bells
transforming the world
into words
spilling ink pens dry
I was born a poet
I embraced beauty,
enfolded magic,
encased the man on the moon,
tracing bare sentences
amidst pure wonder
until their final moments
till they cried
the truths of neverland
upon the immense star clusters
I am a poet

One little hand could not stop the cup from
dropping like a giant on the country wood floor,

“We need a cup factory in this home” I hear the voice of frowning walls

In a fraction of a second, I am the child that breaks the cup.

I want to hide when mother’s voice flows like a honey river
“Leave the child alone, don’t you see that the cup asks for mother’s love”

O,  broken cup filled with mother's love
on the country wood floor.
You loved the child,

“darling take the broom and clean the floor,
when walking no one gets hurt.
Let me know if you do need help”

Her soft voice makes the broom dance and sing, and
the wood floor clean, shining back love to all children that ever broke
the cup,

all we need for lifelong doves is a broken cup
glued with mother's love

I turn to the sky
With a face of longing
Somewhere to belong
Within these troubled nights

I try to connect the dots
But they fall apart in my arms
Leaving behind
A million lonely stars

I look up to the song
Dancing along a bittersweet breeze
And dream of the day
These walls will become a home

I close my eyes
Touching the stardust trails amongst bleeding scars
Somewhere out there I'll find
A million lonely stars

It is always the walls
that come crashing down
to suspend a new dawn.

Built to illuminate power
and show integrity,
but where does integrity lie
in a structure soon to die?

Yet it is the bridges
that hold a higher power
than mere stone walls can shower.

Bridges are never blown
for a new empire to be grown,
but bridges are commonly built
to support an empire's tang and hilt.

Shadows
by Michael R. Burch

Alone again as evening falls,
I join gaunt shadows and we crawl
up and down my room's dark walls.

Up and down and up and down,
against starlight—strange, mirthless clowns—
we merge, emerge, submerge . . . then drown.

We drown in shadows starker still,
shadows of the somber hills,
shadows of sad selves we spill,

tumbling, to the ground below.
There, caked in grimy, clinging snow,
we flutter feebly, moaning low

for days dreamed once an age ago
when we weren't shadows, but were men . . .
when we were men, or almost so.

Published by Homespun and Mind in Motion. This poem was written either in high school or my first two years of college because it appeared in the 1979 issue of my college literary journal, Homespun. Keywords/Tags: shadows, dark, walls, evening, starlight, moonlight, men, souls, drowning, phantoms, shades

It's funny when 4 walls start to feel like 6

So I lost again
Again to another friend
I don’t want to get in the way
So I don’t
I stay in my place
[Hell, I even give advice]
I think....
I don’t know what to think
All I know is I’m jealous
But I shouldn’t be
He’s not mine
I don’t own him
I didn’t even know I had feelings for him
But every time he tells me
About his “endeavors”
I break a little more
My walls build a little higher
Because I know one day he’s going to do or say something
And it’ll make me want to break my walls
So I built a door
I shouldn’t have
I know that
But it’s there now
It’s locked
But he has the key
And one day he’ll unlock that door
And I’ll break some more

the music is starting
they said

the music is starting!
they said

and start it did.

the sound cascading like rivers
funny how it feels like it's surrounding me
when the speaker is very clearly to the left


when the song ends
the room is in an abrupt silence
and the walls are farther
and farther away
the walls
they grow taller
and the ceiling rises into the sky
for a minute i close my eyes
and feel an overwhelming empty

but here it is again

the music is starting
they said

the music is starting!
they said

and start it did.