#editor
The Poet's Condition
by Michael R. Burch
(for my mother, Christine Ena Burch)
The poet's condition
(bother tradition)
is whining contrition.
Supposedly sage,
his editor knows
his brain's in his toes
though he would suppose
to soon be the rage.
His readers are sure
his work's premature
or merely manure,
insipidly trite.
His mother alone
will answer the phone
(perhaps with a moan)
to hear him recite.
Keywords/Tags: poet, poets, poems, poetry, editor, publisher, mother, recite, recitation, reciting, reading, phone, telephone
Remembering Not to Call
by Michael R. Burch
a villanelle permitting mourning, for my mother, Christine Ena Burch
The hardest thing of all,
after telling her everything,
is remembering not to call.
Now the phone hanging on the wall
will never announce her ring:
the hardest thing of all
for children, however tall.
And the hardest thing this spring
will be remembering not to call
the one who was everything.
That the songbirds will nevermore sing
is the hardest thing of all
for those who once listened, in thrall,
and welcomed the message they bring,
since they won’t remember to call.
And the hardest thing this fall
will be a number with no one to ring.
No, the hardest thing of all
is remembering NOT to call.
May 18, 2020
May 18, 2020 at 4:08 AM UTC
Editor's Notes
by Michael R. Burch
Eat, drink and be merry
(tomorrow, be contrary).
***** and complain
in bad refrain,
but please—not till I'm on the plane.)
Write no poem before its time
(in your case, this means never).
Linger over every word
(by which, I mean forever).
By all means, read your verse aloud.
I'm sure you'll be a star
(and just as distant, when I'm gone);
your poems are beauteous (afar).
Keywords/Tags: editor, notes, refrain, recite, distance, distant, afar, star, poet, poems
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 5:00 AM UTC
Dear Ed: I don’t understand why
you will publish this other guy—
when I’m brilliant, devoted,
one hell of a poet!
Yet you publish Anonymous. Fie!
Fie! A pox on your head if you favor
this poet who’s dubious, unsavor-
y, inconsistent in texts,
no address (I checked!):
since he’s plagiarized Unknown, I’ll wager!
Originally published by The Eclectic Muse
Feb 24, 2020
Feb 24, 2020 at 7:13 PM UTC
Our secrets followed us here
Into this aged room
With dusty walls
And a stale smell
That reminds me a lot of us
Stuck in these patterns
Of not telling the whole truth
For the sake of others
For the sake of ourselves
Saving face as if it were a race
To see who can hide the most
But my hands our tied
I can no longer be the one that lies
Because lying next to you
Has become a painful facade
A ridiculous charade
A song that’s been overplayed
A novel that needs an end
This is the moment that breaks us
When I stop biting my tongue
Until my mouth is filled with blood
This is the minute where truth floods
Downpour of rain
Drowning you in disdain
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 1:02 PM UTC
is this yous
no we don't do to the side
get away from me
your an freak
you a freak
we wrote an
who's an
your crazy
thats you are
you are what
we know what you are
who are you
listen you freak
shut up
don't talk to me
your crazy shut up
makes me
makes me shut up
what makes you shut up
sleep
stupid
is this you
?
...
..
.
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 8:46 PM UTC
Life is a poetry, a story, let's be mutual editor....#10w
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 3:23 AM UTC
Gifted are those hearts
Who can craft
Any daft draft...
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 9:33 PM UTC
I recently had the great privilege of editing Mike Essig's latest poetry collection, THE BIOLOGY OF STRANGENESS, and I'm honoured to have been entrusted with such fantastic material. Putting together a book like this is every poetry geek's dream.
It's a beautifully textured assortment of poems, earthy yet lyrical, narrated by a voice that's uniquely grained with experience. There are pieces that will make you smile, think, wince; there are pieces that hit you in the gut out of nowhere; there are pieces that welcome you into them like old, worn-in shoes; there are pieces you will remember late some night when you're by yourself, and remembering them will make you feel less alone.
This collection of poetry makes you look at the banal and the everyday afresh; it finds magic and mystery in the mundane, and even Hawaiian shirts are poem-worthy when Mike Essig's writing about them.
The Kindle version is already available through Amazon.
A paperback edition is due out next month, and I can't wait to have a copy of this book on my shelf as well as on my e-reader.
Mike's previous poetry books, Never Forgotten and Huck Finn Is Dead are also available through Amazon and are excellent.
From his author profile on B Star Kitty Press:
"Mike Essig is a veteran of Vietnam and a retired English teacher. He’s also been recruited by the muse as a poet, like he hadn’t already been through enough."
Sample poems, links to sales pages and more info can be found at the B Star Kitty Press website. www(dot)bstarkittypress(dot)com.
Please do support this very talented indie author.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
You are like my
favourite advisory column
among all of my
favourite magazines.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 12:15 AM UTC
I think about the number of faces I see each day
and the number of faces I forget.
and the number of strangers who see my face each day
and the number of strangers who forget me.
I think about how easy it is to literally just pass by
and how many people live their lives simply
passing by one another, passing one after another
and how many people forget and how many remember.
I think about how many faces there are in this world
and how many faces I can sincerely say I know
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC