#ivy
i glare at the mirror
slowly tracing the jagged bones
that rise beneath my skin
shown through bruises and blisters
a worn‑out map
charting every place I’ve passed through
to become this shape.
each sharp edge grinds
against my flaking skin,
carved by the stares of others
by doubts that linger too long
by silent screams
becoming coil around my throat
like climbing creeping ivy
stealing my hopeless breath
leaving these imperfect lines
carved across me.
i am still grasping for air
as the ivy tightens slowly each day
allowing my bones to pierce
till they bleed
turning my map into a skeleton
ending this story.
May 19
May 19, 2026 at 6:17 PM UTC
the spark to create the wildfire
cleanse this forest of rot and decay
i am the fool on the wire
praying for a safe passage way
under the tree i think like buddha
how did i become green like arugula
envy breeds like ivy
my past defines me
i need to shed idly
draw my strengthening
dissolve my banishing
i need to fly wildly
Feb 3
Feb 3, 2026 at 10:27 AM UTC
I never cared for green,
For I was not a camera lens.
A colour, everywhere seen,
Making the environment intense.
In every scene, every shade,
I now find a glimpse of you.
Distances begin to fade,
When I feel the emerald view.
Now, I see it everywhere—
in the way ivy clings despite the weight,
in storms, and nowhere
Resting in its own shade.
I never knew I'd like green,
Til you showed it so serene.
Mar 10, 2025
Mar 10, 2025 at 12:44 PM UTC
Ivory lad,
Ivy grad;
Tell me,
Why is it that you're so slow?
Behind the times,
Stuck where
Even your parents have outgrown.
What eccentric lessons,
What bombastic professors!
To say it is one school
Would be an insult
To the whole of the institutions'
Asserted goals & aspirations.
It would be a disservice
To their alumni,
The attendees,
And those to be admitted.
Prattle off your dissertations,
I'm genuinely interested
To hear of your perspective,
But I won't hold my breath
So keep the air honest
Lest you share a foul stench
Like dioxide so sulfurous.
What hand is up your ***
To puppet the controls as so?
What stick has been stuck
Through your rear-end
Which parades you around on?
What pike has been found
Deep in your bowels
Rendering detachment & disembodiment?
From which war & what battle
Do you think you're taking part of?
Which side & which force
Do you swear allegiance?
What little league team,
What playground do you call home?
What duel with duality,
What fight with nature!
It would be entertaining
If they had only stuck to playing in the mud.
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 1:29 PM UTC
Letting the ivy roam...
Moonlight serenade, to a begun favor:
Sense in a gentler breeze, the thought to own
A grace, a fastidious space, for a little face...
Pink, the through and due, irony we seldom
Stink and prosper, the alienation we souled?
Together in legend, we tell a tale to a God's question:
Letting the ivy see, is a redress of futures, fools?
Paces and setting a catch, of futures in the light?
A wavering kiss, and the doles of redemption
Have their solemn kin, taken to remembering a night?
My name is a person, order and truth, to another selection...
Of hearts or the ivy...
Spare to fore, we conceive a notion
Made to tailor, a secret, an irony sighed...
Like the bird it was, a concern that lead to devotion...
Ivy sleeps, shadows play...
In the breeds we assume are, the peace of decency...
That has awoken, and seen the sun come, for why...?
Persuade a kind from dread, our fruit is a gift of agony...?
Building halts; continuing salt...
When has a legend presumed finish, of soon's reasons?
The tow of exception, is a wind to defer to a copious fall?
Looking ivy in the eye, asking nix for not, a needs seasons?
The fight is brutal, letting ivy is like a breath between friends
Aching at the completed hour, the duty of they and strange smiles
Set in similar pasts to a redefining must, that only with help, lends
A role no greater than now, a whisper that ended a world's defiled?
Ivy wants your life for a silence...
Ivy has the stomach to turn direction into beauty...
Ivy seemingly aloof, to worth to realize a gift is fast, to the chin...
Ivy knows you, like a taken privilege on the other side of saying we...
Jan 18, 2023
Jan 18, 2023 at 9:06 PM UTC
I grew up as the bed grew bigger than me, underneath there were the roots of a dream that I used to forget; I lost in the card game and you still have a lot of tricks under your sleeve.
And I will yearn if I was still the one in your anticipation; you wear it like a Sunday best and wear it out when you don't feel like yourself.
And I'll follow the traces of your footsteps crawling as vines. What all my words worth if they are a noose entangling my limbs? _honey, the roses scented faintly of blood, too_.
And I will carry the weight of this spineless home.
Dec 20, 2021
Dec 20, 2021 at 3:37 AM UTC
The birds are whistling
and the trees are listening
To the sway of a branch
and the ending of a decade
gone away with the facade
Of trickery wrought from calloused tongues
And seeds of deceit planted in the young
Come away my friend, watch the decade of the end
Again once more, before the flowers get sore
Bending into death, and ending their breath
Come away to endings, and the long awaited sending
Watch the decade of the end
my dearest friend
Jul 6, 2021
Jul 6, 2021 at 6:57 PM UTC
Sometimes you just gotta laugh the situations Life puts you in
Standing there stuck in the train, jammed in with all the others
'Cos the previous train had been cancelled
And now the crowd was too big to get a seat sitting down
I'm pushed up behind the back of this young girl's head
She has a pigtail or what was formerly a pigtail
It's been cut rather abruptly, truncated prematurely and then tied off
So that what's left of it now sticks out directly from the back of her head
And it's stuck right into my nose,
And of course, she's speaking to someone in front of her
And she's nodding her head up and down as if acknowledging
her friend's words
And sometimes she shakes her head the other way
As if acknowledging her friend's negative feelings as well
So she's going Yes...yes....yes! up and down
And No...no...no! the other way
And my poor nose is being mercilessly swished up and down, back and forth, all over the place
It feels like a shoe being shined or a car in a car wash
And it's tickling me something terrible
And I'm there desperately wiggling my nose
Trying to avert an itch or a sneeze coming on
And secretly hoping no one is watching this
Because I think I'd look real foolish if they are,
And I'm also thinking to myself "I know I could do with a bit more human contact/ intimacy in my life
But this... this is ridiculous,
And then I start thinking of this Site and all the lovely tender intimate poems I've read
Those lovely hugs and kisses, sweet cuddles and caresses
Those warm embraces and even warmer entanglements
And I'm thinking " Well that's just typical isn't it, others get all those lovely things
While I get something... something weird like this.
But then y'know after the first feelings of awkwardness and discomfort have worn off I start thinking
"But it is rather funny though" and then "actually it's probably the highlight of my day"
Gradually I find myself warming to this little pigtail
She's blonde (another blonde) like some lovely Swedish thing
With my nose buried in her, I get her scent, her sweet perfume
I breathe her in deeply
Then I find myself getting a little aroused
And I find myself almost talking to her, giving her a personality
"You mischevious little Pixie, you flirtatious little Trixie
You like to see me suffer don't you, the way you hit me back and forth
Baby you're so vile, but hey! I like your smile
Come on! Hit me again harder!
I'll never submit to you, you'll never rule me"
I could almost see her, some cold ice Lady wrapped in furs brandishing her whip
But then suddenly it's like I hear this...this little reply coming back at me
I think I'm starting to hallucinate
It says "Feel my scent, it's heaven sent. Here let me warm you up a little"
As again I feel the whoosh of her whip
"You ***** you ***** I say defiant
"Hey there Serious Boy" she says, "afraid to be seen talking with me.
O! what'll they think, what'll they say Oooo Whooo!
Who cares, who gives a **** what they think
It's just me and you here now, just the two of us
What about it Serious Boy, what do you say
Won't you come out and play, come out and dance with me
O! you're so buttoned up
Come out and laugh and be silly with me
O! drench me in lovely laughter and wonderful silliness
Big man in Poet land
Wanna hear some of my poetry
" The secret of the sun
It's written on my ***
Wanna see my secret Hun'?"
"That's bad poetry" I say
Ignoring me she continues
"Through my eyes the door to adventure lies
Hey Boy! Let it swing, don't hold it in
Just let it dangle, dangle like an obtuse triangle"
I had to smile, "I like it Baby, your poetry, it really... really speaks to me"
And then she looks deep into my eyes
"I bet your magic wand, it's like James Bond"
She has me smiling and laughing to myself, she's so...so too much
And I'm totally lost in this, our magical converse
But then suddenly...suddenly the world, it interrupts, our train it stops,
Some people get off, then she reaches down to get her bag
She starts to leave, to move toward the door
"But you can't go, we were just getting acquainted, we were just getting to know one another"
And it's like she gives me this one last wistful smile
And then she's gone, heading off down the platform
I was gonna go after her, follow her out onto the street
But I knew her owner, she'd probably soon start to twig
She'd turn and accost me "You're following me, aren't you, why are you following me ?"
And I'd say "I'm not following you, I...I'm following Her behind you. Back, back in the train we...we"
Then she'd start to scream "Stalker! ****** and then I'd be grabbed, set upon
The police would be called and I'd be hauled off, dragged before some Court
Some Judge, he'd be looking down at me sternly, "What do you have to say for yourself ? How do you plead ?"
And all I'd be able to say would be "Lack of fun, your Honour, lack of silliness, lack of... warmth in my life
My seriousness and indecision, their slowly killing me, like a tight gripping ivy
Their strangling all the joy out of my life
How do I plead ? Loneliness, I guess, loneliness in the first degree".
And y'know I still look for her in crowds and in trains, my little blonde Miss Pigtail, I'd know her anywhere.
And I still remember that day we had together and all the fun we had on the train.
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 6:20 PM UTC
Love's vine stems from the heart;
it is ivy creeping through iron gates.
Wanders free through stony soil,
rushing stream, and bank.
It can loiter in the garden,
and fall victim to the spring rain.
But do not despair, my dear,
for its passion is like a flame:
Forever burning in its tendrils,
its coiled roots and leaves;
survives environs menace,
summer's blaze, and winter's freeze.
Aug 15, 2020
Aug 15, 2020 at 11:51 AM UTC
I sigh
Another day painstakingly crawls by
Crawls,
As does the ivy circling my neck
Restricting my breath,
But I couldn’t care less
Chartreuse vines, enveloped by raw, grim leaves
My words are no longer mine,
But the thieves
Knowing of my impending doom
The poet’s worst fear comes true,
No voice, no words, no pen nor quill
Nothing to live for,
Stripped has been my will
I scream
Raging embers arise amongst the leaves
My trembling jaw, shaking tongue and quivering lips
Eager claws and curled fingertips,
At the ivy they rip
The fiery yet gentle glow of flame
Disintegrating the captive plant as soon as it came
The embers of the past settle upon frigid ash
And no longer should I thrash
I sigh
Relief floods my being, knowing the vines have died
A catalyst to the ethereal lilacs that are now by my side
Flourishing purple buds rest pleasantly upon my face
Lavender tinged petals carry honey laced words,
Close enough to taste
The dance of petals surrounding brings wind,
Of my newfound happiness and strength I found within
Once ivy thrived all around me
Now, petals of a fresh start reside in my heart
May 30, 2020
May 30, 2020 at 10:21 PM UTC
like ivy around my thighs
a disease of the tongue
take me
raw.
Apr 19, 2020
Apr 19, 2020 at 1:25 PM UTC
The day the earth set me forth
flowers blossomed in my mother's chest
and ivy tucked itself beneath her tendons.
Perhaps that is why I forfeit good men for anarchists.
I was born neither one thing
nor the other.
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 10:46 AM UTC
Spleen
by Paul Verlaine
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The roses were so very red;
The ivy, impossibly black.
Dear, with a mere a turn of your head,
My despair’s flooded back!
The sky was too gentle, too blue;
The sea, far too windswept and green.
Yet I always imagined―or knew―
I’d again feel your spleen.
Now I'm tired of the glossy waxed holly,
Of the shimmering boxwood too,
Of the meadowland’s endless folly,
When all things, alas, lead to you!
Paul-Marie Verlaine (1844-1896) was a French poet and a prominent figure in the Symbolist and Decadent poetry movements. Verlaine has been called "one of the most purely lyrical of French poets." Keywords/Tags: Verlaine, French, translation, spleen, roses, ivy, despair, sky, sea, blue, green, red, black, holly, boxwood, Arthur Rimbaud
Ophélie (“Ophelia”), an Excerpt
by Arthur Rimbaud
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
On pitiless black waves unsinking stars abide
... while pale Ophelia, a lethargic lily, drifts by ...
Here, tangled in her veils, she floats on the tide ...
Far-off, in the woods, we hear the strident bugle’s cry.
For a thousand years, or more, sad Ophelia,
This albescent phantom, has rocked here, to and fro.
For a thousand years, or more, in her gentle folly,
Ophelia has rocked here when the night breezes blow.
For a thousand years, or more, sad Ophelia,
Has passed, an albescent phantom, down this long black river.
For a thousand years, or more, in her sweet madness
Ophelia has made this river shiver.
Mar 28, 2020
Mar 28, 2020 at 2:17 AM UTC
These Hallowed Halls
by Michael R. Burch
a young Romantic Poet mourns the passing of an age . . .
I.
A final stereo fades into silence
and now there is seldom a murmur
to trouble the slumber
of these ancient halls.
I stand by a window where others have watched
the passage of time—alone,
not untouched.
And I am as they were
...unsure...
for the days
stretch out ahead,
a bewildering maze.
II.
Ah, faithless lover—
that I had never touched your breast,
nor felt the stirrings of my heart,
which until that moment had peacefully slept.
For now I have known the exhilaration
of a heart that has vaulted the Pinnacle of Love,
and the result of each such infatuation—
the long freefall to earth, as the moon glides above.
III.
A solitary clock chimes the hour
from far above the campus,
but my peers,
returning from their dances,
heed it not.
And so it is
that we seldom gauge Time’s speed
because He moves so unobtrusively
about His task.
Still, when at last
we reckon His mark upon our lives,
we may well be surprised
at His thoroughness.
IV.
Ungentle maiden—
when Time has etched His little lines
so carelessly across your brow,
perhaps I will love you less than now.
And when cruel Time has stolen
your youth, as He certainly shall in course,
perhaps you will wish you had taken me
along with my broken heart,
even as He will take you with yours.
V.
A measureless rhythm rules the night—
few have heard it,
but I have shared it,
and its secret is mine.
To put it into words
is as to extract the sweetness from honey
and must be done as gently
as a butterfly cleans its wings.
But when it is captured, it is gone again;
its usefulness is only
that it lulls to sleep.
VI.
So sleep, my love, to the cadence of night,
to the moans of the moonlit hills’
bass chorus of frogs, while the deep valleys fill
with the nightjar’s shrill, cryptic trills.
But I will not sleep this night, nor any;
how can I—when my dreams
are always of your perfect face
ringed by soft whorls of fretted lace,
framed by your perfect pillowcase?
VII.
If I had been born when knights roamed the earth
and mad kings ruled savage lands,
I might have turned to the ministry,
to the solitude of a monastery.
But there are no monks or hermits today—
theirs is a lost occupation
carried on, if at all,
merely for sake of tradition.
For today man abhors solitude—
he craves companions, song and drink,
seldom seeking a quiet moment,
to sit alone, by himself, to think.
VIII.
And so I cannot shut myself
off from the rest of the world,
to spend my days in philosophy
and my nights in tears of self-sympathy.
No, I must continue as best I can,
and learn to keep my thoughts away
from those glorious, uproarious moments of youth,
centuries past though lost but a day.
IX.
Yes, I must discipline myself
and adjust to these lackluster days
when men display no chivalry
and romance is the "old-fashioned" way.
X.
A single stereo flares into song
and the first faint light of morning
has pierced the sky's black awning
once again.
XI.
This is a sacred place,
for those who leave,
leave better than they came.
But those who stay, while they are here,
add, with their sleepless nights and tears,
quaint sprigs of ivy to the walls
of these Hallowed Halls.
NOTE: I wrote this poem from the window of my freshman dorm at age 18, while watching students returning from rush week parties in the wee hours of the morning. There is also a sonnet version of the poem. In this longer version there are clues that the poet, like Prufrock, is aware of the quaintness of his Romanticism in the modern age. I consider “These Hallowed Halls” to be my Ars Poetica, along with “Poetry.” Keywords/Tags: College, dorm, fraternity, rush, Romantic, unrequited, love, ivy, halls, learning, education, ivory, towers, stereo, music, romance, chivalry, maidens, damsels, knights, kings, monks, hermits, clock, time
Mar 24, 2020
Mar 24, 2020 at 8:18 PM UTC
Ivy climbs gnarled knotted trunks
Darker lines and streams divide where white wool digs below tufts of heather and tall tipped reeds
Calm flat lakes vacate
Pale hues of birch become rocky barren lands of moss and brown broken bracken
Thick conifers multiplied for miles
The mountain side tipped with ice
Houses change like the hedgerow from new to old
Some unfurnished whilst others glow
Feb 23, 2020
Feb 23, 2020 at 3:21 PM UTC
I like the ivy that grows in the stones
In every crevice it finds a home
A place it will find, always one to belong
A nuisance to many, but of them I'm quite fond
I wish to be an ivy plant and make way as I please
Riddle the world with my beauty, though my beauty is weeds
The condfindence of an ivy, such a sight and a treasure
I wish to be an ivy but to an ivy I cannot measure
Aug 27, 2019
Aug 27, 2019 at 11:22 PM UTC
She was made
of gold
and marble
and she stood
above
the water.
A boy of stone
less looked at
stood hidden
behind
the ivy.
Forgotten
by most
he loved
the girl
made
of gold
and marble.
He
loved her
she
loved him
and they whispered
their love
in the night.
Jul 31, 2019
Jul 31, 2019 at 9:59 PM UTC
the day you sprouted into my life,
I was intrigued by you immediately,
like a newly grew seed of ivy,
it invaded my lawn without fail.
but just like many lawns that needs mowing,
I tried to shake off your existence.
planting roses and daffodils, but to no avail,
ending up fertiziling the feelings i have for you.
your untamed and cheerful nature,
enthralls me even more towards you;
And as your vines crazily crawls unpredictedly,
I steadily stood my ground to stop it.
but still, I once again failed.
Like a kid who's slowly being binded,
binded by the love i feel,
a love like vines that I know would never bloom.
but as time goes by, and day by day has come,
I'm learning to live by the vines,
the binds started to become ropes,
ropes to move up to sunshine.
As the vines nurtures even futher,
and starts to burgeon lilac colored flowers,
I'm starting to understand the untamed and cheerful nature,
is for it to bear blooms that are delicate and precious.
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 5:17 PM UTC
poison ivy
the looks so innocent
so sweet
the raindrops like pearls
brightening your evergreen
looks
do you feel lost
staring out of the window
at a nature wall
into the depths of it
not knowing who you are
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 8:22 AM UTC