#distancing
UMD
Many out there
Lost souls at sea
To outside eyes
They look normal
No obvious needs
They manage to hide
All the unknowns
Deep inside they know
They are never really alright
Voices in their head
Like they have two minds
False conclusions fed
The difference between
Real, reality and self-made
All blend together to benefit
The justification needed
To love, hate and survive
Not much else exists between
Comfort found in perfection
Life is not perfect, explain
How does this go unnoticed
Mixed baggage all piled up
Years of suppression
Years of depression
Years of wanting to let-go
Suicide known, but refused
Never really been an option
Weeks of normalcy achieved
Days of relapsing and grief
Turning points amidst it all
Promises of good change
Made but never kept
Difficulty maintaing friends
Emotions on and off
Like a light switch
On the straight and narrow
Then back in the ditch
Confident in self and strong
Insecure and weak next up
Proud of self-growth
Disgusted with oneself
UMD: covers it all
Unknown Mental Disease
To each their own
Hidden beneath the flesh
Within the rib-cage
A healthy beating heart
Within the skull
A damaged brain
A shattered mind
A habitat to a disease
Still unknowm
UMD
Oct 29, 2021
Oct 29, 2021 at 9:16 PM UTC
Examine the word "embrace"
How syllables escape into sound
Waves
Mouth shapes
Release
E - M - BR - A - CE
How tender
A gentle approach
E... arms open wide
the invitation
an elongated welcome
"Come close"
Lips parted into a smile
M... a joining together
Communion
BR... limbs entangling
Millimeters pulse
A... the one enclosed
CE... teeth in contact, lips dangle
Hold that position
The lock
No letting go. No gaps. No holes
In bracchium -- this is your home.
Hug -- to console
a rush, a thud, an immediate response
H - U - G. Hug.
Hush.
Here. Now. Tighter.
Speech Pathology & Linguistics.
How the mouth works, how we make sense of words -- Why does your face look like that when you say those words?
Anthropology. Semiotics. Etymology.
Notice how we gather and release,
what we do to make an embrace, a hug.
Mouths feel before nerves could touch.
Have we yearned so much that utterances have become placeholders?
Settling for words, we fixate on how we say them
Read my lips gained a new meaning
Embrace, hug
Opening and closing,
holding and releasing,
touching
Wishing an action upon someone is not tantamount to sensations of nerve-endings
But bodies never really touch
Atoms push and pull
It's the physics around them that we feel
When palms caress
When fingers trace
When skin brushes upon skin
Physics
Let the physics of my words be enough until our electrons can interact again
In a dance
The expanse between your atoms and mine is dismissible as long as you hold on to the words "embrace" and "hug" and "kiss" and "love" and the anatomy of how these words come to be
Until then, I wrap my whispers around yours
Their warmth is the 3rd law of motion in action
Jan 24, 2021
Jan 24, 2021 at 2:59 AM UTC
****** dropped bombs on him
It was nothing personal
There was just a war on
He came under the heading of enemy
Blew the ****** front door in
His mum got shot at by a Messerschmitt
In the middle of the street
So he had to do the shopping after
Its dangerous out there send the kid
Served his country in the Royal Fusiliers
Made it to sergeant teaching squaddies
How to read and do their sums
Posted to Germany as army of occupation
Did his bit as the saying goes
Then back on civvy street worked in the city
Steam train took him every day
From the market town where I was born
To smoke and smog and daily grind
Now I am teaching him the iPhone 6
At eighty seven he’s doing great
From a socially acceptable distance
Of course so we can keep in touch
Face to face and he won’t miss us
Now by himself rattling around
The big old house where I grew up
How times have changed
Still he should be used to queuing up
Dec 12, 2020
Dec 12, 2020 at 5:11 AM UTC
Poems about the Coronavirus
yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #1
by michael r. burch
plagued by the Plague
i plague the goldfish
with my verse
yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #2
by michael r. burch
sunflowers
hang their heads
embarrassed by their coronas
I wrote this poem after having a sunflower arrangement delivered to my mother, who is in an assisted living center and can’t have visitors due to the pandemic. This a poem about living with the fear, uncertainty, isolation, loneliness, alienation and depression created by the pandemic.
homework: yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #3
by Michael R. Burch
dim bulb overhead,
my silent companion:
still imitating the noonday sun?
yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #4
by Michael R. Burch
Spring fling―
children string flowers
into their face masks
New World Order (last in a series and perhaps of a species)
by Michael R. Burch
The days of the dandelions dawn ...
soon man will be gone:
fertilizer.
Spring has come:
the nameless hill
lies shrouded in mist
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oh, fallen camellias,
if I were you,
I'd leap into the torrent!
― Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Grasses wilt:
the braking locomotive
grinds to a halt
― Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, investigate loneliness!
a solitary leaf
clings to the Kiri tree
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Whistle on, twilight whippoorwill,
solemn evangelist
of loneliness
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
An empty road
lonelier than abandonment:
this autumn evening
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Winter drawing near:
my neighbor,
how does he fare?
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let us arrange
these lovely flowers in the bowl
since there's no rice
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Death
stood at the end of the hall
in the long shadows
― Watanabe Hakusen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Tonight I saw
how the peony crumples
in the fire's embers
― Katoh Shuhson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The new calendar!:
as if tomorrow
is assured ...
― Inahata Teiko, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A kite floats
at the same place in the sky
where yesterday it floated ...
― Buson Yosa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Our life here on earth:
to what shall we compare it?
It is not like a rowboat
departing at daybreak,
leaving no trace of us in its wake?
― Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This World's Joy
(anonymous Middle English lyric, circa early 14th century AD)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Winter awakens all my care
as leafless trees grow bare.
For now my sighs are fraught
whenever it enters my thought:
regarding this world's joy,
how everything comes to naught.
Fowles in the Frith
(anonymous Middle English lyric, circa 13th-14th century AD)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The fowls in the forest,
the fishes in the flood
and I must go mad:
such sorrow I've had
for beasts of bone and blood!
Ech day me comëth tydinges thre
(anonymous Middle English lyric, circa the 13th to 14th century AD)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Each day I’m plagued by three doles,
These gargantuan weights on my soul:
First, that I must somehow exit this fen.
Second, because I cannot know when.
And yet it’s the third that torments me so,
Because I don't know where the hell I will go!
You Were My Death
by Paul Celan
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You were my death;
I could hold you
when everything abandoned me―
even breath.
Epitaph for a Little Child Lost
by Michael R. Burch
I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.
Not Saying the World Revolves Around You, But ...
by Michael R. Burch
The day’s eyes were blue
until you appeared
and they wept at your beauty.
Imperfect Perfection
by Michael R. Burch
You’re too perfect for words―
a problem for a poet.
Stormfront
by Michael R. Burch
Our distance is frightening:
a distance like the abyss between heaven and earth
interrupted by bizarre and terrible lightning.
Splintering
An unbending tree
breaks easily.
―Lao Tzu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Autumn Conundrum
by by Michael R. Burch
It's not that every leaf must finally fall,
it's just that we can never catch them all.
Laughter’s Cry
by Michael R. Burch
Because life is a mystery, we laugh
and do not know the half.
Because death is a mystery, we cry
when one is gone, our numbering thrown awry.
Childless
by Michael R. Burch
How can she bear her grief?
Mightier than Atlas, she shoulders the weight
of one fallen star.
I Pray Tonight
by Michael R. Burch
I pray tonight
the starry light
might
surround you.
I pray
by day
that, come what may,
no dark thing confound you.
I pray ere the morrow
an end to your sorrow.
May angels' white chorales
sing, and astound you.
For a Little Child Lost, with Butterflies
by Michael R. Burch
Where does the butterfly go
when lightning rails, when thunder howls,
when hailstones scream, when winter scowls,
when storms compound dark frosts with snow?
Where does the butterfly go?
Where does the rose hide its bloom
when night descends oblique and chill
beyond the capacity of moonlight to fill?
When the only relief's a banked fire's glow,
where does the butterfly go?
And where shall the spirit flee
when life is harsh, too harsh to face,
and hope is lost without a trace?
Oh, when the light of life runs low,
where does the butterfly go?
Please tell me, dear child;
lead, oh, and I'll follow,
for surely, my Angel, you know ...
Neglect
by Michael R. Burch
What good are your tears?
They will not spare the dying their anguish.
What good is your concern
to a child sick of living, waiting to perish?
What good, the warm benevolence of tears
without action?
What help, the eloquence of prayers,
or a pleasant benediction?
Before this day is gone,
how many more will die
with bellies swollen, wasted limbs,
and eyes too parched to cry?
I fear for our souls
as I hear the faint lament
of their souls departing ...
mournful, and distant.
How pitiful our "effort,"
yet how fatal its effect.
If they died, then surely we killed them,
if only with neglect.
The Octopi Jars
by Michael R. Burch
Long-vacant eyes
now lodged in clear glass,
a-swim with pale arms
as delicate as angels'...
you are beyond all hope
of salvage now...
and yet I would pause,
no fear!,
to once touch
your arcane beaks...
I, more alien than you
to this imprismed world,
notice, most of all,
the scratches on the inside surfaces
of your hermetic cells ...
and I remember documentaries
of albino Houdinis
slipping like wraiths
over the walls of shipboard aquariums,
slipping down decks'
brine-lubricated planks,
spilling jubilantly into the dark sea,
parachuting through clouds of pallid ammonia...
and I know now in life you were unlike me:
your imprisonment was never voluntary.
we did not Dye in vain!
by Michael R. Burch
from “songs of the sea snails”
though i’m just a slimy crawler,
my lineage is proud:
my forebears gave their lives
(oh, let the trumps blare loud!)
so purple-mantled Royals
might stand out in a crowd.
i salute you, fellow loyals,
who labor without scruple
as your incomes fall
while deficits quadruple
to swaddle unjust Lords
in bright imperial purple!
Notes: In ancient times the purple dye produced from the secretions of purpura mollusks (sea snails) was known as “Tyrian purple,” “royal purple” and “imperial purple.” It was greatly prized in antiquity, and was very expensive according to the historian Theopompus: “Purple for dyes fetched its weight in silver at Colophon.” Thus, purple-dyed fabrics became status symbols, and laws often prevented commoners from possessing them. The production of Tyrian purple was tightly controlled in Byzantium, where the imperial court restricted its use to the coloring of imperial silks. A child born to the reigning emperor was literally porphyrogenitos ("born to the purple") because the imperial birthing apartment was walled in porphyry, a purple-hued rock, and draped with purple silks. Royal babies were swaddled in purple; we know this because the iconodules, who disagreed with the emperor Constantine about the veneration of images, accused him of defecating on his imperial purple swaddling clothes!
Update of "A Litany in Time of Plague"
by Michael R. Burch
THE PLAGUE has come again
To darken lives of men
and women, girls and boys;
Death proves their bodies toys
Too frail to even cry.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
Tycoons, what use is wealth?
You cannot buy good health!
Physicians cannot heal
Themselves, to Death must kneel.
Nuns’ prayers mount to the sky.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
Beauty’s brightest flower?
Devoured in an hour.
Kings, Queens and Presidents
Are fearful residents
Of manors boarded high.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
We have no means to save
Our children from the grave.
Though cure-alls line our shelves,
We cannot save ourselves.
"Come, come!" the sad bells cry.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
NOTE: This poem is meant to capture the understandable fear and dismay the Plague caused in the Middle Ages, and which the coronavirus has caused in the 21st century. We are better equipped to deal with this modern plague, thanks to advances in science, medicine and sanitation. We do not have to succumb to fear, but it would be wise to have a healthy respect for the nasty bug and heed the advice of medical experts.―MRB
Keywords/Tags: coronavirus, pandemic, COVID-19, plague, illness, death, fear, pain, rhyme, uncertainty, isolation, loneliness, alienation, depression, masks, social, distance, distancing, mrbcorona, mrbplague
Sep 19, 2020
Sep 19, 2020 at 3:56 AM UTC
life on our globe has turned
truly ‘complificated’
and many struggle to maintain
a semblance of the ordinary
in our daily goings about town
face masks, regulations and prescriptions
have changed how we can interact
if we may at all
with each other, friends, family, or strangers
physical distancing may rise desire
for at least digital social closeness
yet in its wake
emotional remoteness seems to grow
hanging like a shadow over
occasional live meetings with old friends
children, aunts, uncles, grandparents etc.
we watch them with veiled suspicion
they somehow look a little less familiar
since we met them last time
who knows what they might carry
strangers watching strangers we have become
growing more alienated from each other
Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 11:55 AM UTC
New pair of shoes
New way of thinking
New type of coffee
New summer camp
So why can’t we adjust
To this new way of life
Physical distancing
And wearing masks
Sure, Plexiglass might be a pain
Back in the office, but
It’s better than working from home
With your kids hyped up on sugar
If you’re stuck in a rut
Don’t be afraid to ask for help
Sure, it might be embarrassing
But rent won’t pay itself
I hope you have learned
Check the CDC website
If you have any questions
During this time
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 3:40 PM UTC
escape!!!
by michael r. burch
for anaïs vionet
to live among the daffodil folk . . .
slip down the rainslickened drainpipe . . .
suddenly pop out
the GARGANTUAN SPOUT . . .
minuscule as alice, shout
yippee-yi-yee!
in wee exultant glee
to be leaving behind the
LARGE
THREE-DENALI GARAGE.
Keywords/Tags: Coronavirus, Pandemic, Teen, Society, Humor, Hope, Social Distancing, Isolation, Family, Home, House, Escape, Escapism, Freedom, Plague, Boredom
Jun 13, 2020
Jun 13, 2020 at 5:36 AM UTC
___[Social
.
.
distancing]
.
.
makes
.
.
the
.
.
heart
.
.
grow
.
.
fonder.___
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 5:06 AM UTC
thrice do the floorboards creak
beneath your feet, eldest first
and every step is a wound
vitriolic and repeating
i hear the tenebrous stair
spiral forth with the sound
of you leaving
and by the intervals of sleep
i will fall forever, hymnal-red
through the ceiling
our wildest dreams fade faster
in the folds of my memory
thinking of those eyes
one last time
wrapped around me
May 16, 2020
May 16, 2020 at 6:14 PM UTC
everything that will happen tomorrow
is a blueprint of yesterday's ignorance
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 1:06 PM UTC
I've had a better life
Than a squirrel.
Ask anybody.
But looking out,
I'm envious of that
Mite invested, bushy-tailed one,
Fleeing up my tree.
Mar 27, 2020
Mar 27, 2020 at 4:32 PM UTC
Looking out my bedroom window
past the bluebirds and cardinals
vying for position on the seed-filled feeder,
past the doves and the squirrels
shamelessly settling for the leftovers below,
past the obligatory but unused lawn furniture,
past the turtles and storks and herons, and
past an alligator swimming slowly, but purposefully,
toward his place in the sun,
I can see the second green and the third tee
of the golf course where I live.
In these days of pandemic and social distancing
the golfers each drive their own cart.
On the putting green players stand six to ten feet apart,
no one touches the flagstick,
there are no high fives,
no shaking hands.
The green carts are driven
down the cart path
one-by-one
from two green
to three tee,
like four green baby ducks
following each other,
identical, synchronous, six to ten feet apart.
After teeing off
the players in the carts
again follow each other
one-by-one to the end of the path
before scattering
to the fairway or the bunker or the woods
or the edge of the lake
where the alligator has fallen asleep
in the sun with his mouth open
as if he is warning the golfers
to maintain the appropriate social distance.
Considerably more than six to ten feet apart.
Apr 23, 2020
Apr 23, 2020 at 11:53 PM UTC
yet another iffy coronavirus haiku
by michael r. burch
plagued by the Plague
i plague the goldfish
with my verse
Keywords/Tags: haiku, coronavirus, plague, social distancing, homework, working at home, poets, poetry, goldfish, writing
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 12:35 PM UTC
Sigh...
Aight.
I'm done with this small life
Indoor life
Closed-door life
I wanna shout about it
I wanna tell all my thoughts
and maybe you'll agree upon it!
Now this a hunch
Let me know, what'd you have for lunch
Canned beans?
Again?
Oh, that's right.
Stay home kids,
Stay home peeps,
Lessen the curve,
let's do this!
If you're done with this life,
then do somethin' 'bout it.
Stay home!
This will all be over much faster,
If you would,
JUST,
Stay home!
Sigh...
Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 1:02 AM UTC
limbs that sweat in plastic
doctor's bin-bag clothes
hospitals like landfills
landslide horror wards
clap like it's been scripted
casualty- stream live
sunlight voids the distance
summer pressure- vibe
queen is on TV
joke is on the screen
everyone's outside
looking for a sign
bathing in the light
bouncing off the streets
who cares about the queen?
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 9:38 AM UTC
In a time of somberness
I have been awakened
Desires to do what I've always wanted
Learning
Growing
Enlivening
To thrive in darkness is a super power
Become a better person on the other side
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 1:02 AM UTC
They might as well have said
that March was canceled
Because that's what I heard
When they announced
There would be no basketball
No basketball
Those were the words that echoed through the college campuses, the dorm rooms, the high school gyms, living rooms, and sports bars
around the world.
So no sweet sixteen
No final four
no watch parties
Or wagers being placed on
Your favorite teams
March always comes in like a lion
But this time
It came in
Like a giant rhinoceros
With social distancing
And excess hand washing
This virus
This 100 year plague
Has turned our every day lives
Upside down
And forced us all
into a new world order
A new world
Where sports is
No longer king
No longer a priority
And no longer important
And I don't even
Like basketball
Really not many sports
To begin with
But I'm very much
A fan of tradition
And giving kids
A chance
At a last hurrah
A final dance
A final prom
If you will
But no basketball in March
Is like
Telling everyone
With a birthday in the month
That they were never born
Its as if all the scores,
All the stats, all the records broken
Never existed
When you tell us
There will be no
March Madness
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 7:16 PM UTC
For we are not yet there, you know,
although it seems like months have passed
we've got another mile to go
and then one more, one more... at last
upon some distant future day
we'll reach the place where we can say:
"We did it! Now we have arrived!
And most of us are still alive
after silent passages
through the tedium of time
alone." We'll dwell in warmer climes
after long March ravages.
But first slow April's patient flowers
must bloom and bend within their bowers.
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 1:42 PM UTC
To stay away from the bodies of other beings
To keep a safe distance
To deny the pleasure of touch,
As much to make it seem a new concept
We’ve been distancing long before the panic spread
To stay away from feeling other’s feelings
To keep a safe distance
To deny the vulnerability of connection,
Give credit where it’s due
To distance is the best we do.
Mar 30, 2020
Mar 30, 2020 at 3:35 PM UTC
Listen turkey
It's all about cutting the mustard
And giving thanks for the bread
But lettuce make room for others
--about six feet
Mar 29, 2020
Mar 29, 2020 at 5:53 PM UTC
Physical quarantine
Mental prison
Virus as guard
Who won’t let us out
Travel is danger
Love across borders
Loss of his touch
Rips my heart out
Trial of patience
Mental endurance
Are humans stronger?
**** we won’t bow out!
Mar 29, 2020
Mar 29, 2020 at 10:30 AM UTC