#castles
Andromedan castles
moat has little blue boats
servers are maidens joyed
white iris gardens
deep canyons
radars aimed
soft cadence
magnet minds
love balanced
Orion forts marbled
shining with platinum bands
armoured Galactics cruel
stone and steel makes head reel
bold barons
orlon vests
high pylons
canon shots
warring sons
______________________________
Nov 7, 2025
Nov 7, 2025 at 1:35 AM UTC
Cedar wood house
aching with arthritis
still standing atop a hill,
at me, she blew a kiss,
dreaming I could feel,
and as made my way
down the horizon
where the flowering
dogwood-covered
peaks rose
to this valley,
where whiskey flows,
old mountain ranges
have always been
November’s ghost.
I’m on this road
thinking it will lead me home,
but all along,
I was wrong,
my home lives with me
in my bones.
Faces I knew by heart,
in time faded until forever gone,
I’m left here singing their song
with their names etched
on winter stones.
This road has grown weary
leading me to golden places
that weren’t even there;
all the while it was I
chasing castles in the air,
and I was foolish enough
to care about running after
a mirage anywhere,
all along,
by my side, the happiness
that I dared myself to find,
has always been with her.
Oct 20, 2024
Oct 20, 2024 at 2:07 AM UTC
she is nothing
scorned the gods
she is worthless
echoed the people
but still in their mind
they wondered
who is she?
as she tore their pillars down
as she set her own flag
atop the six-speared castle
launched herself like a bullet
she rose from the shards
and burnt everything in her way.
Nov 27, 2023
Nov 27, 2023 at 3:10 PM UTC
she once built
a castle made
of teardrops
over panel windows
and locked double doors,
a princess's agony
never seems to stop.
she once built
a castle made
of dreams
over high mountain
and deep seas,
a mermaid's call
or so it seems.
she once built
a castle made
of sunlight
over earthen floors
and vine-covered ceilings,
a fairy's tale
in a breathtaking sight.
i just built
a castle made
of truths
over pursed lips
and whispered wishes
a queen's plea
the longing it soothes.
such castles
sometimes stand
sometimes crumble
it is for you to find
on where you want
your life's worth gamble.
Jul 8, 2023
Jul 8, 2023 at 9:24 AM UTC
lately i find myself wanting to
close my hands around something that doesn’t exist
and it’s just as frustrating as it sounds.
i’m forever chasing castles on clouds
but settling for shingle roofs.
Nov 20, 2022
Nov 20, 2022 at 3:16 PM UTC
Our undercroft had housed our dead
Unseen, in gloomy sepulture.
But pagan chieftains much prefer
Barrows, where height can show instead.
And the busier departments need
Those lowest levels for their work.
Glib passers-by avoid that murk,
And absent bosses don’t impede.
Ensconsed where corpses decomposed,
Those in cubicles will thrive, unvexed,
And never taken from their desks,
They’ll finish the great work imposed.
Interrers from a raucous age
Buried their kings and queens in mounds.
Since robbers filch, and greed abounds,
The wise entombed their heritage.
Sarcophaguses, then the norm,
Are too chilly for a comfy bed.
The dawn should kiss those lids of lead,
To heat what blankets cannot warm.
Rather than burying in hills,
Top those barrows with their occupants.
These somber monuments enhance
What would be dowdy domiciles.
Coffins as cenotaphs and plaques,
Allow the dead to bask in sun,
And feel what veneration’s done.
Hilltops make the best catafalques.
Oct 11, 2021
Oct 11, 2021 at 12:27 PM UTC
I solve problems
To get my blood flowing
I play like a happy child
When I'm on an obstacle course
Getting ever more complex
And solving it even more gratifying
I make a mud castle
And kick it down, when I'm bored
Dec 11, 2020
Dec 11, 2020 at 4:07 AM UTC
Sonnet: The Ruins of Balaclava
by Adam Mickiewicz (1798-1855)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oh, barren Crimean land, these dreary shades
of castles―once your indisputable pride―
are now where ghostly owls and lizards hide
as blackguards arm themselves for nightly raids.
Carved into marble, regal boasts were made!
Brave words on burnished armor, gilt-applied!
Now shattered splendors long since cast aside
beside the dead here also brokenly laid.
The ancient Greeks set shimmering marble here.
The Romans drove wild Mongol hordes to flight.
The Mussulman prayed eastward, day and night.
Now owls and dark-winged vultures watch and leer
as strange black banners, flapping overhead,
mark where the past piles high its nameless dead.
Adam Bernard Mickiewicz (1798-1855) is widely regarded as Poland’s greatest poet and as the national poet of Poland, Lithuania and Belarus. He was also a dramatist, essayist, publicist, translator, professor and political activist. As a principal figure in Polish Romanticism, Mickiewicz has been compared to Byron and Goethe. Keywords/Tags: Mickiewicz, Poland, Polish, Balaclava, Crimea, war, warfare, castle, castles, knight, knights, armor, Greeks, Rome, Romans, Mongols, Mussulman, Muslims, death, destruction, ruin, ruins, romantic, romanticism, sonnet, depression, sorrow, grave, violence, mrbtr
Jun 13, 2020
Jun 13, 2020 at 8:56 PM UTC
The Seashore Gathering
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
On the seashores of endless worlds, earth's children converge.
The infinite sky is motionless, the restless waters boisterous.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children gather to dance with joyous cries and pirouettes.
They build sand castles and play with hollow shells.
They weave boats out of withered leaves and laughingly float them out over the vast deep.
Earth's children play gaily on the seashores of endless worlds.
They do not know, yet, how to cast nets or swim.
Divers fish for pearls and merchants sail their ships, while earth's children skip, gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They are unaware of hidden treasures, nor do they know how to cast nets, yet.
The sea surges with laughter, smiling palely on the seashore.
Death-dealing waves sing the children meaningless songs, like a mother lullabying her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with the children, smiling palely on the seashore.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children meet.
Tempests roam pathless skies, ships lie wrecked in uncharted waters, death wanders abroad, and still the children play.
On the seashores of endless worlds there is a great gathering of earth's children.
Originally published by The Chained Muse. My translation is based on an untitled text in Bangla (Bengali) first published in 1912 and known as "60" due to its numerical placement. Tagore made history by becoming the first Asian to win the Nobel Prize for Literature the following year. Keywords/Tags: seashore, gathering, children, sky, sea, water, dance, sand castles, shells, boats, play, nets, swim, fish, pearls, ships, waves, songs, mother, lullaby, baby, cradle, tempests, death
Mar 30, 2020
Mar 30, 2020 at 11:03 PM UTC
princesses made of freckles, wild nettles, vitamin C
strawberry-preserve smiles, backdoor-screen
dreams, pockets full of pencils and pink jellybean
lip gloss, wearing summer and skinned knees
these types of princesses don’t practice their lives
in stone-and-mortar towers. they take dives
into lake-blue unknowns, sunflower skies,
break their falls on vanilla sunrises.
these types of princesses only build their
castles made of tarpaulin and filled
with oak-tree pillars and moons that tilt
into the soft iridescence of rose-gold winters.
these types of princesses conquer backyards.
these types of princesses catch falling stars.
Mar 22, 2020
Mar 22, 2020 at 3:48 PM UTC
I see the waves crash on a rugged seashore. I hear the whistle of the wind and my heart is ready to explore.
I feel the mist upon my face, as I walk the beach, and I am aware of an eagle flying and the heights it must reach.
I hear nothing but the sounds of my own hear beat. Looking for a seashell as I walk in the soft white sands, and the waves run across my feet,
I look ahead to see a hidden trail that holds a key, to the mystery of life unfolding in all things wild and free.
Mar 11, 2020
Mar 11, 2020 at 11:11 AM UTC
You know the economy is bad
When they begin foreclosing
On tree houses & sand castles
Nov 16, 2019
Nov 16, 2019 at 2:32 PM UTC
Red castles crash and fall
Midst green pines standing tall
As the last summers memory outlasts
This autumn death befalls
Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 7:59 PM UTC
Picture a man’s solitary stroll on a sandy seaside,
Early time of day, just a short time after low tide,
Water almost calm, gentle waves lapping the shore,
Early morning sun brilliantly blazing the horizon.
Feel the wonderful breeze…smell the salty ocean air…
See, hear the jaegers, gulls and terns flying without a care.
The soothing sounds of the wind, water and gulls
Are suddenly intruded upon by the sad cries of a small child.
"What's wrong?" the man kindly asks, as he kneels next to her.
"Someone knocked down my sandcastle," is her reply, tears flowing.
"Don't worry little one, I'll help you build another."
To the little girl's delight, the man smooths away the sand,
In preparation for a newer, bigger, better sandcastle.
Soon his concentration is broken by frantic cries for help.
Looking out over the water, he sees a tiny figure,
Desperately clinging to one of the buoys marking the deep-water.
Running to the water’s edge, he clearly sees another little girl,
Close in age to the first, whose swimming has carried her too far,
And now she perilously clings to the buoy, unable to swim back.
The man returns to the first girl
And continues to build the sandcastle.
"The girl in the water is safe for now", he assures himself.
"As long as I can hear her cries for help,
I know her head is above water.
Besides, this other little girl's problem came first.
As soon as I am done with her sandcastle,
I will most certainly rescue the other one..."
And so, the man does build the sandcastle,
One more magnificent than the first.
All the while he builds, he continues to hear
The desperate cries from the second little girl.
By sandcastle’s finish, her cries have become weaker, less frequent.
"Are you happy now?" he asks the first little girl.
"Oh yes," she cries, "thank you sir...."
As she joyfully dances around her new sandcastle.
With that, the man springs into action,
Just as she slips off the buoy and goes under.
He reaches her in record time with all the strength he can muster,
Expertly positioning her on her back with her face above water.
Wasting no time or effort he makes his way back to shore,
As more and more people gather to cheer on the savior.
He gives CPR - after several coughs, water clears lungs, a life is not lost.
As if on cue, the rescue team arrives, transporting her to hospital.
Extremely grateful parents and the city honor him as a hero.
So what say you? Is such a man deserving of honor?
How would the parents react If they knew the rest of the story?
Especially since he was the lifeguard assigned to beach patrol!
Now, friends, after considering all of this fuss,
The question bears asking, what about us?
Are we making sure of more important things,
Or are we busy building castles in the sand?
Oct 25, 2019
Oct 25, 2019 at 11:19 AM UTC
When all I try
And all I do
Falls down like sand
Midst castle molds
With knees
Red and worn
And eyes
Read and worn
I will dig the softly sudden earth
And build myself
A castle new
Never to be torn down
In this life
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 9:52 AM UTC
There is weakness in two just as in one
A sandcastle of constituents
Molded and bound together beneath the basking sun
But the conjoining doesn’t change the component
Nor make it any more fun to be
The most honest version of the newest one
Certainly sand has its own set of difficulties
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 2:49 PM UTC
Picturesque Edinburgh symbolizes Scottish regal splendor,
Which can be seen in buildings that are truly rich in decor,
The solid architectural structures are such a visual marvel,
Replete with history when one tries to unravel
Mary, Queen of Scots is a name we remember from school history,
The palace where she was born speaks of tales that remain a sad mystery,
That she was ordained to be the Queen as soon as she was born, was destiny,
It was her mother's foresight and Providence that enabled her to survive the mutiny
The palace rooms and items therein portray her tragic life,
Their vividity saddens the visitor when seeing how full it was of strife,
The room in which she was kept in isolation by her better half,
Spoke volumes of the agony she endured at the hands of her bitter half
The Royal Castle has a whole history behind its walls,
The gusty Scottish winds in no way diminishes visitors' footfalls,
The audio tour reveals fascinating stories little heard of elsewhere,
Which we would never come to know if we had not been there
The prisoners-of-war cells and isolation wards that are centuries old,
Depict in great detail the meted treatment which was a sight to behold,
One cannot but wonder at the related stories of medieval times,
The mannerisms of people of warring nations, that was less than sublime
The difference in Scottish and English (London) accents is quite striking,
One needs to listen closely without too much jaw breaking,
Where the former is more subtle and measured and in consonance with word spelling,
The drawl and crunching emphasis of words in the latter is more telling
While walking through Princess Street Garden at leisure,
Taking in the floral beauty is such a pleasure,
The spectacular view of the castle atop the hill,
Screams for a photo shoot of your own free will
The Waverly Bridge junction is a busy thoroughfare all day,
As automobiles ply by and pedestrians wend their way,
The hustle and bustle is not too over the top,
As people seemingly find time to stop and shop
As a nation the Scots can be justifiably proud,
By nature they seem modest without being too loud,
Their common bond with the English is that they share the same Queen,
Their rivalry otherwise is perhaps latent and needs to be seen
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 8:26 PM UTC
The moat where we keep watery fowl
afloat feeding them cracked corn
scattered from our parapets.
Repaired the dry rot in the gate, got the
drawbridge working, again…it rusts.
There is dust, makes us sneeze.
Stumble over stones, look at masons
askance. Threaten grain withholding
(hint: barley) unless they
make ‘em flush.
How fun to keep
the keep
shiny.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 5:15 AM UTC
You look like a wolf
in sheep’s clothing
And yet, you say you
are the dragon
Yet, you make us believe
in your story
You breathe no fire
You only wanted the
castle walls
to protect you
from our glances
If you had opened up
Put away your wolf hide
All could see
how lonely you are
And how wrong our story is
---------------------------------------------------------
Anne H. Bakke | 02:09 @ 29.05.2016
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
God my life is such a mess,
My fairy tale is all a jest,
The only dream i had,
The only thing i wanted,
Its no better than all the rest.
I wanted some one to wipe my tear,
A prince to whose heart i was dear,
But my castle is all tumbling down,
My happiness is sleeping in sadness town.
But my heart yet wants things to be fine,
I will try, cause what is lost is mine.
I am sure there is some one who will care,
A person with whom, my world i can share.
He will show me dreams and work a mile,
To drive away my pain and bring a smile.
He will build that castle again in my heart,
I will just wait for him, till our stories start.
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 3:25 PM UTC
If becoming Tarzan, wmylm,
I'd do the stunts, in every movie.
If practicing magic, wmylm,
I'd go to Hogwarts to study.
If exploring the ocean, wmylm,
I'd invent the Nautilus, for us to flee.
If becoming Beyoncé, wmylm,
Jay-Z, you surely will be.
If living in fantasy, wmylm,
In candy castles, we'll live in ecstacy.
If giving you the world, wmylm,
Sherry Crow, I'll add to the symphony.
If a thing of beauty, wmylm,
A mirror mansion, I'll build sans vanity.
If jewels and gold, wmylm,
Zeuses bolt, I'll bring, forever pretty.
Enfin, if all you want is me,
I truthfully say, I'm ready !!
May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 8:36 AM UTC
Castles sitting with walls so grand,
sitting high, like great dunes of sand.
A special treasure shared by those within.
Oh! How I wish I could stroll right in!
To obtain this treasure so unknown!
But the gate is shut, so I sit, alone.
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 3:01 PM UTC