Spin the wheel
Steer toward the horizon
My body, a ship
Sailing for the sunset
The sky finds home in my eyes
And salt teases my tongue
The world is my sea
And I am a land locked creature
That wishes to drown her skin
Within the sea of exploration

Wealth is a wheel which
vice and virtue turning well.
Solo vice follows,
fain to the wealthy abodes.
Why virtue is left behind?

the boat to heaven
roving arcanum of life
have truth at the wheel.

Words were thrown into a turning wheel,
Twisting and turning their meaning,
Humble and thoughtful they were not,
They were intended to hurt and dismay,
I felt their sting and cold touch,
Why was I the target of such accusations?
Am I the carrion and they the scavenger?
I did not deserve this,
Or maybe I did.

tearing a black leaf
divine artist painted blue -
sun, clouds, **** and wheel

Have I been too long at the fair?
by Michael R. Burch

Have I been too long at the fair?
The summer has faded,
the leaves have turned brown,
the Ferris wheel teeters,
not up, yet not down . . .
Have I been too long at the fair?

NOTE: This is one of my earliest poems, written around age 15 when we were living with my grandfather within walking distance of the Nashville fairgrounds. I believe the Ferris wheel only operated during the state fair. So my “educated guess” is that this poem was written during the 1973 state fair, or shortly thereafter. I remember watching people hanging suspended in mid-air, waiting for carnies to deposit them safely on terra firma again. Keywords/Tags: state, fair, carnival, carnies, Ferris, wheel, teeters, teetering, up, down, summer, fall, leaves, falling, time

Have I been too long at the fair?
by Michael R. Burch

Have I been too long at the fair?
The summer has faded,
the leaves have turned brown,
the Ferris wheel teeters,
not up, yet not down . . .
Have I been too long at the fair?

NOTE: This is one of my earliest poems, written around age 15 when we were living with my grandfather within walking distance of the Nashville fairgrounds. I believe the Ferris wheel only operated during the state fair. So my “educated guess” is that this poem was written during the 1973 state fair, or shortly thereafter. I remember watching people hanging suspended in mid-air, waiting for carnies to deposit them safely on terra firma again. Keywords/Tags: state, fair, carnival, carnies, Ferris, wheel, teeters, teetering, up, down, summer, fall, leaves, falling, time

Flight
by Michael R. Burch

Eagle, raven, blackbird, crow . . .
What you are I do not know.
Where you go I do not care.
I’m unconcerned whose meal you bear.
But as you mount the sun-splashed sky,
I only wish that I could fly.
I only wish that I could fly.

Robin, hawk or whippoorwill . . .
Should men care if you hunger still?
I do not wish to see your home.
I do not wonder where you roam.
But as you scale the sky's bright stairs,
I only wish that I were there.
I only wish that I were there.

Sparrow, lark or chickadee . . .
Your markings I disdain to see.
Where you fly concerns me not.
I scarcely give your flight a thought.
But as you wheel and arc and dive,
I, too, would feel so much alive.
I, too, would feel so much alive.

I don’t remember exactly when this poem was written. I believe it was around 1974-1975, which would have made me 16 or 17 at the time. I do remember not being happy with the original version of the poem, and I revised it more than once over the years, including recently at age 61! The original poem was influenced by William Cullen Bryant’s “To a Waterfowl.” Keywords: flight, flying, bird, wheel, arc, dive, nest, scale, eagle, raven, blackbird, crow, robin, hawk, whippoorwill,  sparrow, lark, chickadee