#ohm
These are peace poems, prayer poems, hymns and lullabies I have written for family, friends and the world over the years ...
Peace Prayer
by Michael R. Burch
for Jim Dunlap
Be calm.
Be still.
Be silent, content.
Be one with the buffalo cropping the grass to a safer height.
Seek the composure of the great depths, barely moved by exterior storms.
Lift your face to the dawning light; feel how it warms.
And be calm.
Be still.
Be silent, content.
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.
Prayer Before Flight
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy
They will teach you to scoff at love
from the highest, windiest precipice of reason.
Do not believe them.
There is no place safe for you to fall
save into the arms of love.
Love’s Extreme Unction
by Michael R. Burch
Lines composed during Jeremy’s first high school football game (he played tuba), while I watched Beth watch him.
Within the intimate chapels of her eyes—
devotions, meditations, reverence.
I find in them Love’s very residence
and hearing the ardent rapture of her sighs
I prophesy beatitudes to come,
when Love like hers commands us, “All be One!”
Love is her Belief and her Commandment
by Michael R. Burch
for Beth
Love is her belief and her commandment;
in restless dreams at night, she dreams of Love;
and Love is her desire and her purpose;
and everywhere she goes, she sings of Love.
There is a tomb in Palestine: for others
the chance to stake their claims (the Chosen Ones),
but in her eyes, it’s Love’s most hallowed chancel
where Love was resurrected, where one comes
in wondering awe to dream of resurrection
to blissful realms, where Love reigns over all
with tenderness, with infinite affection.
While some may mock her faith, still others wonder
because they see the rare state of her soul,
and there are rumors: when she prays the heavens
illume more brightly, as if saints concur
who keep a constant vigil over her.
And once she prayed beside a dying woman:
the heavens opened and the angels came
in the form of long-departed friends and loved ones,
to comfort and encourage. I believe
not in her God, but always in her Love.
Ave Maria
by Michael R. Burch
Ave Maria,
Maiden mild,
Listen to my earnest prayer.
Listen, O, and be beguiled.
Ave Maria.
Ave Maria,
Maiden mild,
Be Mother now to every child
Beset by earth’s thorned briars wild.
Ave Maria.
Ave Maria,
Maiden mild,
Embrace us with your Love and Grace.
Let us look upon your Face.
Ave Maria.
Ave Maria,
Maiden mild,
Please attend to our earnest call—
When will Love be All in All?
Ave Maria.
Final Lullaby
by Michael R. Burch
for my mother, Christine Ena Burch
Sleep peacefully—for now your suffering’s over.
Sleep peacefully—immune to all distress,
like pebbles unaware of raging waves.
Sleep peacefully—like fields of fragrant clover
unmoved by any motion of the wind.
Sleep peacefully—like clouds untouched by earthquakes.
Sleep peacefully—like stars that never blink
and have no thoughts at all, nor need to think.
Sleep peacefully—in your eternal vault,
immaculate, past perfect, without fault.
Amen
Lullaby
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy
Cherubic laugh; sly, impish grin;
Angelic face; wild chimp within.
It does not matter; sleep awhile
As soft mirth tickles forth a smile.
Gray moths will hum a lullaby
Of feathery wings, then you and I
Will wake together, by and by.
*
Life’s not long; those days are best
Spent snuggled to a loving breast.
The earth will wait; a sun-filled sky
Will bronze lean muscle, by and by.
Soon you will sing, and I will sigh,
But sleep here, now, for you and I
Know nothing but this lullaby.
Keywords/Tags: peace, prayer, benediction, meditation, hymn, lullaby, lullabies, ohm, calm, calmness, silent, silence, still, stillness, quiet, serene, serenity, composed, composure, warmth, tranquility, Native American
Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 12:20 AM UTC
giggling i dash
phases and i slip passed
cloak caught on mara's thorns
no one looks within
but only at what is worn
follow the barren arrow
toward the ancient barrows
where the winding ways become narrow
and all is resting still
Nothing is what for i asked
where simply i am present
no future or past
And ones mind isn't molded
like an egyption tomb
explicit in caste
but warm in the womb
display shoshin in bloom
to inherent the present's heirloom
and when all is like before it begun
does any other stand higher than one
because if we fight over either
we're bound to be done
Feb 3, 2020
Feb 3, 2020 at 4:05 PM UTC
After Beck kin me in One Direction, and thence
Upon meeting me (in am i am the walrus who also
doubles up as mister kite - on windy days) Act Naturally
Because Crying, Waiting, Hoping For No One
in particular who will bring delight lite, like Good Day
Sunshine prompting me to perform The Hippy Hip
p Shake while Seals and Crofts dine with the late Jim Croce.
When we r close and come together, I Want To Hold Your Hand,
I Want To Tell You, I'm Happy Just To Dance With You
The Inner Light from your being guides this fool on the hill
who needed to Get Back To The USSR boot my B52 combo
Cars getup kept Stalin this Joe Schmoe as glanced up
at passersby along Penny Lane.
Lonesome Tears In My Eyes this Mother Nature's Son
(a grown mwm), Of Love, this modest no name brand Sun King (Elvis) at two score and nineteen Van Halen ZZTop Young Blood, who sweat his tears completing Orbitz in tandem with Earth, Wind And Fire (On A Three Dog Night) for...someone to call my Eleanor Rigby, He Jude, Honey Pie, et cetera.
Friend this Marquis De Sade light skinned (caucasian) sated bloke,
who (on green Sade Doors days) ambles along the boulevard of broken dreams axe sing (as a Petty Fuel doubting Tom
please axe a Pink Foreigner or Devo tad Survivor (asper this
Heart felt gun shy yet rosey guy) to board the pearl jam AC/DC powered Reo Speed wagon to Nirvana, particularly during a Black Sabbath.
Although aye Faith No More (and doo to Bad Company abetting my bad Hair line),I seek a SoulAsylum, where Our wings could travel charged via a super duper AC/DC Def Leppard shaped device at the speed of a SoundGarden while playing in Marcie's Playground, we Nsync like a Led Zeppelin into the depths (comprising many a Puddle Of Mud) ideal for Rolling Stones unable to Journey intoAerospace amidst Talking Heads.
If an absolute nyat, no, nada...sans the opportunity for us soar
like Eagles (where Air Supply quite thin) then I (Joe Schmoe
Money less), would like me Nickelback to purchase a ZZ
Top hat to travel incognito like a Foreigner and Survivor
of Earth, Wind and Fire maelstrom that turned his Motley Crue
into a teenage wasteland of Indigo Girls.
Tis best for this fool of a Meatloaf on the hill
Envision himself to be a Killer Grateful Dead Talking Head
now lifeless per being terminally ill
tumbling while tweeting n twittering jill
whose response an emphatic nyat, no nill
to help carry my pail, which stung like a quill
bryn mawr the place name along rail road still
and quiet even for Lady Madonna
who might hear the blackbird song or a whippoorwill.
Our Wings could travel at the speed of sound
as we rise like a Led Zeppelin into the heights of Aerospace.
If an absolute nyat, no, nada...
the opportunity for us soar like Eagles
then I (Joe Schmoe Money less), would like me Nickelback.
best forU2 to text this fool on the hill
tumbling while tweeting n twittering jill
whose response an emphatic nyat, no nill
to help carry my Nine Inch Nail, which stung like a quill
bryn mawr former place name go win n One Direction (with me self as a former groupie of Traveling Wilbury's) rail road still
might hear the blackbird song or a whippoorwill.
aye ham a non Blondie passenger, Who once
didst aboard Jefferson Airplane property of one Joan Jet.
This offer meant for U2 and haint no Cheap Trick
nor available to another Super ***** boot a once in a lifetime Luvin Spoonful of one humungous Kiss.
from -- juiced another beetle browed, civil chap, decent dude,
genteel guy, eclectic edified egghead, a Foster Child with preference for Pearl Jam Goo Goo Dolls, who goes by the pseudonym
of Arctic Monkey Beastie Boy.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 7:32 PM UTC
Beyond the lights and glare and joyous cheers
Outside the pretty things prepared to tear
It glows without joules or generators
Without lists and traditional movies
between gathered gifts and exhalations
mini mall masses travel plans, traffic
makes meaning of monotony, trees of woods
burning bright before menorahs first light
unquantified warmth while tilted from sun
unnamed it's ether a summoning drum
Before Christ birth or Alleluia sung
Close your eyes and see from glance where it comes
More precious than 34th street miracles
the motivation of cold breeze on leaves
The reason for seasons found in unity
Where shepherds staff birth red white epitaph
Where plants of poison rosy the living
When wise men exodus for genesis
Seven lights or Nine or just one big star
matters not the name or time frame in bloom
indiscriminately celebrate the Ohm
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
(Release Me!)
***
I'm the illa Killa Vanilla Consilla
Know That
I be the dope deala and deli meat Grrrrilla
like a Mystical street Thrilla
The Miracle Manzilla
A Mothra villian Chilla
If you rashin like pencil scratchin
for tongue tappin I cure like
penicillin the Wolf and Ben Stiller
I'm a hot steel on flesh wound heala!
(sssiizzzzle)
(Bang Bang)
Wake up to phone ringing
I'm head slinging
cloth stacking on a body
I'm sleep lacking
stay on track AND
(click clack)
My engine blows steam to
organize the regime
*** when I'm working
and writing
I am typing
and crying
*** this Job is dying me colors
like slashing my back and
(click clack)
They beast master and calls stack
I get my slack
between breaks and phone clack
and back track
to where the last ink slapped paper
and draw back from vapors
that ventilate out my ears
like kids caper through streets
with Halloween treats
I'm riding rails
like open sails
like blowing gales
it's raining hail
I'm screaming Hell
In this cube E Cell
(Toot Toooot)
My grey matter is burning
My soul coal is churning
like a witch on stick burning
(Crackle Pop Snap)
Release
(To get Back)
I Master peace
cause my mind's eyes flying
the call cue is dying my fingers fly
no longer trying
to typecast
I drive fast
then Breakfast
for den her
Then
(sshhhhhhh)
The universal remote
is on mute
transcending this dome
my transcendental home
It's my cue
To slip into
the zone
I sip a bit of foam
my cup of coco from
thus releasing my thoughts with YuuHmm
(slurp slurp)
I think for others Daily
Rarely given space or time or Air We
All must trust the Wind gust of
dust and skin gone so scaly
Yet I slither as slow as snails to my home
for me in my dome
to slip into the zone
I sip a bit of foam
from my cup of coco
thus releasing me with an
(Ohm)
of work for others Daily
Rarely given time or space or air WE
all must trust the Wind gusts of dust
and skin gone scaly
So we slither as slow as snails
to a home
for me
deep in my dome
sipping on the zone
bit off coco cup foam
slow snails slip
(Ohm....)
I master peace
Wind
(Release!)
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC