#carving
Sitting down and carving away,
Scooping up the stringy bits and mush.
Dirtying my hands with pumpkin guts
It is when I feel most at rest.
The tearing of pumpkin flesh
A wonderful feeling
It resonates down my spine
Oct 30, 2025
Oct 30, 2025 at 10:41 AM UTC
arthritis tippled wooden relief plugged in a bed of mud
the leaves that decay to its side
compliment the carved ones that feather the face
but it is creaked crevice and sinuous
a kind crumpled face or maybe a stern yet approving parent mask
two seasons of weathering
withered saturated and withered again
this self unearthing
worth moulded from
the decaying green man
reapplying for a creative birth
for a visit on the Autumn hearth
filling in its ****** details with broken and discarded
school yard pencils scudded over litter and mud
soon to be worshiped again...
would settle for a respectful gift from a child
for all his wonders in spring
he has envied the witness of harvest
but attention goes to other gods
he pouts out of season for no one here greets him
Jan 29, 2025
Jan 29, 2025 at 2:55 PM UTC
Unlike Michelangelo, whose marble slab
contains an entangled entirety of a crystalline vision of love,
life,
and loss,
the desolation of souls,
the rending of divinity,
the forlorn sacrifice,
only seen by him
until
the sweaty glistening stone,
hewn and chiseled,
sculpted and slashed,
for tedious eons
painstakingly marked by time
and life force sacrificed,
revealed its secret gift,
I attempt to recreate the Pietà
by adding on material to the medium,
rather than by carving it away.
Oct 4, 2022
Oct 4, 2022 at 1:10 PM UTC
chisel into rock
from no-form form: extracting
the sculpture within
Aug 16, 2021
Aug 16, 2021 at 8:21 AM UTC
Today begins whole
Time shaved away into shape
Carving a sculpture
Nov 17, 2020
Nov 17, 2020 at 2:08 AM UTC
we're down to the sixth month of twenty-twenty
closing previous chapters, chasing new camaraderie
the chasm and contagious line of diversion keeps worsening
it's alright to wish for new beginnings or a regression to the mean.
have some fearless faith, today is a fresh, blank slate
dare to carve wishes with hope to what is unexpected by fate.
IA ☕
May 31, 2020
May 31, 2020 at 7:28 PM UTC
your eyes touched me
before they even knew
what they wanted
they carved your desires into me
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 8:55 PM UTC
Die Maske des Bösen (“The Mask of Evil”)
by Bertolt Brecht
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A Japanese woodcarving hangs on my wall—
the mask of an ancient demon, limned with golden lacquer.
Not unsympathetically, I observe
the forehead’s bulging veins,
the strain
such malevolence requires.
Original German text:
Die Maske des Bösen
An meiner Wand hängt ein japanisches Holzwerk
Maske eines bösen Dämons, bemalt mit Goldlack.
Mitfühlend sehe ich
Die geschwollenen Stirnadern, andeutend
Wie anstrengend es ist, böse zu sein.
Bertolt Brecht [1898-1956] was a major German poet, playwright, novelist, humorist, essayist, theater director and songwriter. Brecht fled Germany in 1933, when ****** assumed power. A number of Brecht's poems were written from the perspective of a man who sees his country becoming increasingly fascist, xenophobic and militaristic. Keywords/Tags: Bertolt Brecht, German, translation, Holocaust, poem, Japanese, carving, mask, demon, evil, malevolence, sympathy, compassion, understanding, feeling, forehead, veins, swollen, bulging, effort, strain, exhausting, concentration, suggest, suggesting, suggestive, demonstrating, revealing, showing, wall, gold, golden, lacquer, paint, woodwork, totem, malice, hatred, enmity, spite, spitefulness, animosity, anger, maliciousness, malignancy, venom, spleen, viciousness
Bertolt Brecht Epigrams and Quotations
These are my modern English translations of epigrams and quotations by Bertolt Brecht.
Everyone chases the way happiness feels,
unaware how it nips at their heels.
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The world of learning takes a crazy turn
when teachers are taught to discern!
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Unhappy, the land that lacks heroes.
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Hungry man, reach for the book:
it's a hook,
a harpoon.
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Because things are the way they are,
things can never stay as they were.
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
War is like love; true ...
it finds a way through.
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What happens to the hole
when the cheese is no longer whole?
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
It is easier to rob by setting up a bank
than by threatening the poor clerk.
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Do not fear death so much, or strife,
but rather fear the inadequate life.
— loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Keywords/Tags: Bertolt Brecht, translation, translations, German, modern English, epigram, epigrams, quote, quotes, quotations
Mar 20, 2020
Mar 20, 2020 at 11:50 PM UTC
The Mask of Evil
by Bertolt Brecht
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A Japanese carving hangs on my wall –
the mask of an ancient demon, limned with golden lacquer.
Not altogether unsympathetically, I observe
its forehead’s bulging veins, noting
the tremendous effort such malevolence requires.
Keywords/Tags: Bertolt Brecht, German, translation, Holocaust poem, mask, evil, Japanese, carving, demon, totem, forehead, veins, bulging, effort, concentration, focus, malevolence, malice, hatred, enmity, spite, spitefulness, animosity, maliciousness, malignance, venom, spleen, viciousness
Mar 11, 2020
Mar 11, 2020 at 4:49 AM UTC
Xylographed initials made by lovers over
Yonder in the suburb parks where the human
Zoo keeps them under watchful eyes.
Jun 9, 2019
Jun 9, 2019 at 11:45 PM UTC
It burns like an acid,
these hot tears,
Tearing through my skin.
The inside of my chest shredded,
And it's your hand this time,
That holds the carving knife.
Through it all, I hear a pounding-
It's my hand on the table.
As some tune's stuck in my head.
I look around at all my friends,
Grins and smiles a blaze by the fire.
And for the first time in a long while,
I join in, and I'm okay.
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 11:57 PM UTC
A dictionary in a bag of bricks.
I watch it sink down the swamp.
Words only mean what we do with them after,
So I never feast until I know there's dessert coming.
I am the stone before the statue.
A block of possibility.
Waiting for guidance like a wiseman,
From anyone that can convince me we're not all mad for trying.
I am the stone before the statue.
Waiting to be carved.
Waiting to be told who I am.
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 4:27 AM UTC
I found a carving made of wood
A carving I made and
Never really understood
The shape was awfully made
And yet at the time
Emitted an aura that felt good
The raw quality,
The way light fell on it,
At the time I could only think
The carving was perfect,
The way that it stood.
I found a wood carving that I hid
Away from my mind
So that I could bid
Farewell to the misplaced notches and indents
That surfaced on the carving.
Why did I leave pieces here
And cut off parts there?
What experience did I have in carving
Such an obscene piece?
Of myself, the carving, I would rid
But if only I could
Forget what I did
What I carved
What I was amid
But I cannot
The reason I didn't understand
The decisions I made
Was because
I understood the decisions I made.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 7:04 AM UTC
Wind shapes open land
Carving its own signature
Painting on canvas
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 8:00 PM UTC
How do I get a carving out of a tree?
The smug shape of your G+E
outlines with a stupid, misshaped heart
etched into the evergreen.
You ruined my favorite tree
with five words.
A sentence I knew you would inevitably say
at some point of our lives together.
I really wanted to doubt myself for once,
and be proved wrong in the right way.
But you just had to keep me incorrect.
I call the local lumberjack and ask him,
"Cut down the tree as soon as possible."
I think that's how you get a carving out of a tree.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 10:42 PM UTC
We've taken you from your home. Lush in line, your twins and elders, taken.
You lost connection to the Nexus, put on display with porous candied paper messengers and the consumers of blood, perched from the ceiling by invisible lineage.
We have taken you. We're sorry. We lament. We trade small goods to take you, but its easy.
We take the tools too. The serration, the sadism, newspaper mat lobotomy.
We lament. We are sorry.
We lament and cut sad faces. We cut the undead that spawn from the soil and ****** your innards into the hot room. We are sorry. We too spawn from soil. You feel you've lost connection to the Nexus- with the stringy appendages of chilled gore.
We've taken your insides and given you a new face.
We are sorry.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 2:25 PM UTC
There's a devil in each of us,
And an angel lives there too.
I saw the angel inside me,
Begging in tears to be set free.
But the devil stepped up,
shutting her up for so long.
I almost forgot her plea,
So I carved to set her free.
No one did understand,
How much this meant to me.
They stopped me for good,
Which stopped me from good.
It's been too long since then,
When i last saw her,
I'm afraid they killed the angel in me...
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC
I cannot eat and I cannot sleep anymore
because Your Great Love has been
knocking down my doors.
God, I am filthy, but you make me clean
You've had great plans for me
before I even became a little bean.
Growing up brings some bitter pains,
You wash it away with your healing rain.
My timid soul is thirsty and starving.
Shape me Lord, into your perfect carving.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC
Hundreds of orders behind but never
never
never
Never quite
out of business. I cut my finger often
but my carvings are cut, always
must be.
I owe the people wooden hearts
to call their own.
And I owe myself a living,
living with clocks and statues and cabinets
for some purpose
known by God.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 12:23 PM UTC
Their hallow heads hold fire after being carved by kids. I wonder how they do that, gouge a gourd for human fests. I bring them water every day, until they grow with might, these now seedless pumpkins that glow all through the night. They say they scare the ghosts away but none yet have I seen except the ones of the rotted skeletons that were once these.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 5:27 PM UTC
After laying awake for endless nights,
with the shattered pieces of my heart
leaking into my veins
and carving away at the life
I used to share with you,
I realized that you are not one
worth suffering for
By Chloe Elizabeth
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC