#balcony
For a moment I thought
it was a butterfly,
the yellow and orange leaf
that took flight from the swishing poplar tree
across my balcony.
It swayed and fluttered in excitement –
here and there, up and down,
undecided if right or left,
to the ground or up to the sky –
Should I stay or should I go?
What to make of perceived options
when you lose your wings to know
that gravity always wins?
And ultimately to the ground
with or without wings.
Jul 29, 2025
Jul 29, 2025 at 3:53 PM UTC
Tuck it in your waistband
Use her charger
Now the tops full of sand
Clogged, pull harder
Stash is dry
but that’s ok
Grandma will give you one of hers anyway
Hold it under your tongue
Don’t let momma smell your breath
They only approve cause it prevents my death
Jul 19, 2025
Jul 19, 2025 at 3:01 PM UTC
On the small balcony,
they sit blanket wrapped,
just past midnight.
Earth smells of rain,
cloud dazzling secrets.
As he leans in,
not for a kiss,
but to give a piece
of his past
to her soul.
May 7, 2025
May 7, 2025 at 7:41 AM UTC
Everyday, without fail,
I'd find myself in this space,
At the end of the living room.
Just big enough for one of me
To lie sideways, and another me
To sit with his back to the railing,
And his feet right up against the doors.
I'd find myself taking a nap there,
On afternoons that render
My cozy bed and blanket suffocating,
And even if sleep kept itself
At an arm's length away,
The warmth of the sun at its height
Made me think less of how
It's not just sleep that put a distance
Between itself and me.
Every now and then,
I'd find myself curled up,
On the aging mattress lying there
On the floor, left behind by somebody.
Sometimes, I have my phone with me,
As I keep looking away from matters
That are right up in my face.
There are less fortunate days,
When my phone's a few feet away,
And the space between it and I
Is home to all my baggage
That's begun to rot and smell over the years.
Between the time I had my last meal,
And when the day has no more surprises to reveal,
I'd find myself propped up there.
Some nights, I'd sit and strum
An off-key guitar that's missing a string,
Taking breaks to light a cig or two.
It could be the nicotine, it could be my delusions,
But sometimes I feel I've become
Just a little better,
Though I know that's just my way
Of reminding oneself,
That things hopefully get better over time.
This little area has seen a fair bit
Of burnt butts and paper planes,
Of drunk delirium and sober concerns,
Of an abundance of persons,
And the lack of it all -
It's the balcony, it couldn't be
A space of my own, you know?
Even so, in the wee hours
Where insomnia flirts with dissociation,
When my 'everyone' exists but in person,
And I crave for a shoulder to rest on,
This place saves me.
Not quite in the heroic sense
Of culling dragons and scaling towers,
But, in a simpler twisted way,
Wrapping some vines around my ankles,
To keep me from seeing what's over the edge,
Yet letting me know, in it's own way,
That I'm probably not alone.
Apr 14, 2025
Apr 14, 2025 at 7:06 AM UTC
As well as the writer’s balcony
Dressed in the ruins of summer,
Autumn slides,
Crowding at the edges of wakefulness.
The still undiscovered adventure,
Sadness being beautiful.
Jan 23, 2025
Jan 23, 2025 at 5:17 PM UTC
I don't want to stay
On autopilot anymore
I wanna go home with a
Bouquet of wild flowers
Cook your favorite meal
And dance with you to
A Chet Baker song on
Our balcony by the
Light of the stars
Dec 16, 2024
Dec 16, 2024 at 1:21 PM UTC
sweltering air
nibbling at your ankles
california dreaming
in pennsylvania meadows
clouds moving like
cotton candy
in the robin egg colored sky
curly hair blowing
heat exhaustion
but satisfaction
Jun 29, 2022
Jun 29, 2022 at 3:27 PM UTC
cigarette ashes
fly on the wind,
as i stare at my black coffee,
it gazes back at me.
black sobranie,
and i debate;
of all the people,
i find it hard to see
is there something
worth seeking.
just like dust,
i let them go
i never looked back
let them think i'm bore.
you may be
a world unseen,
yet i am so tired
no words flow well enough.
i'll just go lose myself
in paint and doubt
while i stare at my coffee,
and flit around.
Apr 22, 2021
Apr 22, 2021 at 4:25 PM UTC
I must know the ocean
With every breath I breathe
Not just tender sunsets
But the roaring seas
I must go so deep
Almost scared to find what I need
All those mighty waves
Crashing over me
It’s not enough
To sit on my balcony
If I know I could travel where
The ocean is all I see
I’ll leave the land I came from
To follow where she leads
‘cos she met my every question
And that cry for destiny
You wouldn’t call me a fool
If you’d seen what I see
When I look at the ocean
I know she’s there for me
Her steady, constant waves
Never cease to instruct me
As she leads, I will follow
All the way to the deep
Oct 11, 2020
Oct 11, 2020 at 1:11 PM UTC
The early dose of caffeine
dons the costume of
fuel amidst the sleepy
blues of oblivion.
As I huddle up
in the balcony
to observe the rain
wash away the nights'
miseries away and shine
the light on my soul and the
dreams that remain a mystery.
Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 3:58 PM UTC
Back in January seeds started flowing
From the balcony.
On Sunday we read
The poems of the deaf and
Watched the matches stumble
Drunkenly through the darkness.
In March my hips began to
Fill out like my mother’s.
A monsoon of bullet ants
Waged war along the perimeter of the bath.
I squashed three under my thumb.
Hide, I told them. I have dropped mercy off the edge of the hanging bridge.
In May the stars were soft,
The ants came back to bite me in my sleep.
I tried to clasp your nose to keep you warm
But all the heat had flown from our bodies.
Sacrifices were made along the way.
The ants, admittedly, least among them.
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 6:53 PM UTC
Le Balcon (“The Balcony”)
by Charles Baudelaire
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Paramour of memory, ultimate mistress,
source of all pleasure, my only desire;
how can I forget your ecstatic caresses,
the warmth of your ******* by the roaring fire,
paramour of memory, ultimate mistress?
Each night illumined by the burning coals
we lay together where the rose-fragrance clings—
how soft your ******* how tender your soul!
Ah, and we said imperishable things,
each night illumined by the burning coals.
How beautiful the sunsets these sultry days,
deep space so profound, beyond life’s brief floods ...
then, when I kissed you, my queen, in a daze,
I thought I breathed the bright bouquet of your blood
as beautiful as sunsets these sultry days.
Night thickens around us like a wall;
in the deepening darkness our irises meet.
I drink your breath, ah! poisonous yet sweet!,
as with fraternal hands I massage your feet
while night thickens around us like a wall.
I have mastered the sweet but difficult art
of happiness here, with my head in your lap,
finding pure joy in your body, your heart;
because you’re the queen of my present and past
I have mastered love’s sweet but difficult art.
O vows! O perfumes! O infinite kisses!
Can these be reborn from a gulf we can’t sound
as suns reappear, as if heaven misses
their light when they sink into seas dark, profound?
O vows! O perfumes! O infinite kisses!
Invitation to the Voyage
by Charles Baudelaire
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My child, my sister,
Consider the rapture
Of living together!
To love at our leisure
Till the end of all pleasure,
Then in climes so alike you, to die!
The misty sunlight
Of these hazy skies
Charms my spirit:
So mysterious
Your treacherous eyes,
Shining through tears.
There, order and restraint redress
Opulence, voluptuousness.
Gleaming furniture
Burnished by the years
Would decorate our bedroom
Where the rarest flowers
Mingle their fragrances
With vague scents of amber.
The sumptuous ceilings,
The limpid mirrors,
The Oriental ornaments …
Everything would speak
To our secretive souls
In their own indigenous language.
There, order and restraint redress
Opulence, voluptuousness.
See, rocking on these channels:
The sleepy vessels
Whose vagabond dream
Is to satisfy
Your merest desire.
They come from the ends of the world:
These radiant suns
Illuminating fields,
Canals, the entire city,
In hyacinth and gold.
The world falls asleep
In their warming light.
There, order and restraint redress
Opulence, voluptuousness.
The Perfect Courtesan
by Michael R. Burch
after Baudelaire, for the courtesans
She received me into her cavities,
indulging my darkest depravities
with such trembling longing, I felt her need ...
Such was the dalliance to which we agreed—
she, my high rider;
I, her wild steed.
She surrendered her all and revealed to me—
the willing handmaiden, delighted to please,
the Perfect Courtesan of Ecstasy.
Les Bijoux (The Jewels)
by Charles Baudelaire
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My lover **** and knowing my heart's whims
Wore nothing more than a few bright-flashing gems;
Her art was saving men despite their sins—
She ruled like harem girls crowned with diadems!
She danced for me with a gay but mocking air,
My world of stone and metal sparking bright;
I discovered in her the rapture of everything fair—
Nay, an excess of joy where the spirit and flesh unite!
Naked she lay and offered herself to me,
Parting her legs and smiling receptively,
As gentle and yet profound as the rising sea—
Till her surging tide encountered my cliff, abruptly.
A tigress tamed, her eyes met mine, intent...
Intent on lust, content to purr and please!
Her breath, both languid and lascivious, lent
An odd charm to her metamorphoses.
Her limbs, her ***** her abdomen, her thighs,
Oiled alabaster, sinuous as a swan,
Writhed pale before my calm clairvoyant eyes;
Like clustered grapes her ******* and belly shone.
Skilled in more spells than evil imps can muster,
To break the peace which had possessed my heart,
She flashed her crystal rocks’ hypnotic luster
Till my quietude was shattered, blown apart.
Her waist awrithe, her ******* enormously
Out-thrust, and yet... and yet, somehow, still coy...
As if stout haunches of Antiope
Had been grafted to a boy...
The room grew dark, the lamp had flickered out.
Mute firelight, alone, lit each glowing stud;
Each time the fire sighed, as if in doubt,
It steeped her pale, rouged flesh in pools of blood.
Duellem (The Duel)
by Charles Baudelaire
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Two combatants charged! Their fearsome swords
brightened the air with fiery sparks and blood.
Their clashing blades clinked odd serenades,
reminding us: youth's inspired by overloud love.
But now their blades lie broken, like our hearts!
Still, our savage teeth and talon-like fingernails
can do more damage than the deadliest sword
when lovers lash about with such natural flails.
In a deep ravine haunted by lynxes and panthers,
our heroes roll around in a cozy embrace,
leaving their blood to redden the colorless branches.
This abyss is pure hell; our friends occupy the place.
Come, let us roll likewise here, cruel Amazon,
let our hatred's ardor NEVER be over and done!
Keywords/Tags: Baudelaire, translation, French, balcony, paramour, memory, mistress, desire, caresses, fire, coals, rose, ******* night, breath, feet, lap, body, heart, vows, perfumes, kisses, gulf, suns, heaven, light, seas
Mar 31, 2020
Mar 31, 2020 at 6:29 AM UTC
you have seen my tears fall
more often than my friends.
you, my dear balcony:
audience of
lights from houses and buildings,
cars passing by,
the moon,
and the stars.
but tonight, my dear audience,
i have to apologize.
for my spectacle of melancholy
has shifted
to a grand finale of celebration.
request an encore.
Jan 13, 2020
Jan 13, 2020 at 12:51 PM UTC
De mon balcon terrassés d’herbes fines je les vois
Des taches noires mes yeux plissés les aperçoivent
Des hirondelles accompagnées de moineaux
Une parade douce et enivrante les oiseaux
Instiguent le goût de planer alléchant
De rejoindre leurs rangs célestes bien avant
Que la nuit dévore les dernières lumières
Qui, ores, livrent une spectaculaire
Fresque de couleurs vives et de nuages
Lisses ou joufflus tels que des personnages
Passant de jaune à bleu argenté, l’horizon
Tranché par de silencieux et petits avions
Gazouille d’invisibles meutes d’insectes
Qui rempliront bientôt de joyeux becs
Sep 9, 2019
Sep 9, 2019 at 7:29 PM UTC
When you have no pockets to put your lighters in
And your nails are too long,
You find yourself on the balcony staring off
Staring off into the night sky
That soft, deep sea blue cast across your skyline
You catch a thought,
You think,
The simple things,
A glowing read star, could be mars
The thoughts I think, Smoking on my balcony
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 11:01 PM UTC
"Is this how you want to spend the rest of your life?
With nothing to live for except the anticipation of your next high?"
Of course you say no, that you want much more than that
Yet you keep destroying yourself in the same place you've been at
I love you so much but I can't witness up close anymore
It hurts to observe from a distance, but a front-row seat hurts even more
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 2:52 AM UTC
I know this may sound strange.
To know if we could meet again
As if the first hasn't happened.
The same sleepless nights,
The beginning of Summer.
Finally asleep with the thought of you.
The nostalgia of a smile.
Wasting my time in a dream.
To think of myself as an apartment.
You the city I gaze into.
I know this may seem strange.
Staring out the patio window of a one bedroom apartment.
Searching to live in the comfort of again.
To be honest I couldn't be any happier.
The blinking buildings, the backdrop of sky.
It's almost therapeutic, the way I think of you.
To stand on the balcony at night,
Reliving the same feeling of meeting you.
Miles away from any and everything except you.
With your favorite color lighter.
Waiting to hear about your day
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 6:20 PM UTC
Is it strange?
I hear different sounds,
paletts, colours,
I'm music bound.
Is it strange?
I can't sleep very well
hearing notes, tones,
imagining bells.
Is it strange?
The bells ring loudly
they never stop
they deafen me proudly.
Is it strange?
Seeing you everynight
whilst I work on the balcony,
I can feel your soft glance.
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
I sit here on this messed up balcony that has all essence of home
Yet,
All i think about is the view right before me
The size of the mountains repel me
But that makes me more drawn to its diabolic beauty
Flashes of every story and legend I've read takes place in those mountains
And my eyes betray me by refusing to look away from this dream catcher
In the distance the rain collapses and it reminds me why i live in this town
Of my love towards the smell of the rain provides
Nothing is more hypnotizing
It gives me a chillingly warm feeling as the chains hold me in this messed up hell of a balcony
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 3:16 PM UTC
I watched you soar off a balcony,
Only to land on a giant net stitched
From your goals and dreams.
You traded your soul for an extra moment with the silhouette of her shadow.
Bury me in her old cardigan and
Her parking tickets. Take me back
To a time when these feelings
Didn't shatter my good sense.
I traced the outline of our brownstone
On your inner thigh.
You woke up to the bed covered
In roses and firewood.
The getaway car trembled as
You stepped inside, dragging
A red wagon weighed down by your discarded dreams.
Before I could pass out on the futon,
You asked me, do you love me?
As you drank from the merlot bottle.
I wanted to nod my head instead of
Shake it. But hey that's what the
Rewind button is for.
So the parachute refused to open,
And I died that night too with you.
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 10:06 AM UTC
The mornings on the balcony veiled with rose mist,
How soft view comes while standing over Balcony besides you,
How soft view comes while standing over Balcony besides you,
My feet’s could touch your feet’s,
My hands could feel the warmth of your palms,
We often said imperishable things,
The morning’s shines just make your face more glowing,
How splendid the dawns are on warm mornings,
How deep space is! How potent is your heart,
When I wrap you in mine arms, then your shyness make me vigorous,
I breathed my soul perfume in your blood,
How splendid the dawns are on warm mornings,
I know the art of evoking happy moments,
But will you give me another chance?
Without you the balcony is like a hell empty,
My mornings start from your glance,
My nights end while embracing you,
I know the art of evoking happy moments,
And live again our past, my head laid on your shoulders,
My feet touch yours while standing on Balcony,
Come near for my love to wear,
Come near for giving a life to our empty balcony!
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC