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Kuzhur Wilson Sep 2013
My poetry, which knew it was
the cry of a lonely bird
on a solitary tree
in my village,
asked Spring its name.

Spring began to speak –

The fruit laden Vayyankatha, her thorny pangs, hijab-wearing  Guf, her minarets, Thondi  blushing red with kisses,  her moist lips, orphaned Adalodakam, Nellippuli in a polka dotted dress, Pulivakawaiting for the breeze, Anjili   head towards the south, yawning Cherupuuna, Pera with the names of grandmas scribbled on her leaves, Ilantha blowing into the hearth, Ilapongu rubbing his eyes, Irippa, Atha laughing noisily,Cholavenga in tattered clothes, Irumbakam, Padappa catching his breath after running, Pattipunna wagging his tail, bare footed Pattuthali, Thekku the noblest among them, Thekkotta, Neervalam  recollecting her last birth, Neeraal, sobbing Neelakkadambu, Pathimukam, lazy thanal murikku, Karimaruthu, Karinkura, Asttumayil, Velladevaram, Kattukadukka, the gluttonous Badam, amnesiac Vazhanna, boredVarachi, Nangmaila, Eucalyptuswith a sprained back, viscous red Rakthachandanam, saffron robed Rudraksham, Vakka, Vanchi,  Parangimaavu nostalgic of his ancestral home, Vari, Nedunaar, Marotti with a hundred offsprings, Malangara, Malampunna ,Nenmeni Vaka trying his luck in a lottery, Nelli with a sour smile.

Kadaplaavu doing sketches with leaves, Kari straying from the queue, Kattuthuvara buying things on credit, Kattutheyila boiling over, Kattupunna with a pus-oozing sore, Kumkumam putting a bindi on her forehead, starving Ventheku, Vellakadambu making a missed call, Kattadi standing aloof, her feeble hands,  flowering Ilanji, her fragrant trunk, sighing Aalmaram, Pachavattil, Pachilamaram  gossiping with the chameleon, Panachi,Pamparakumbil, Kadambu memories adorning her head, Kudamaram carrying provisions for the home,  Punnappa,Poongu, gray hairedChuruli, Chuvannakil  singing a folk song, dark skinned Vattil, Kulaku, Karinjaaval, sozzled Pamparam, Chorappayir, njama, Njaaval  tempting the birds, Njaara, Alasippooscratching his palm, Ashokam  humming a sad song.

Ezhilampala chewing on a masala paan, Peenaari wearing a tie, Peelivaka, Pulichakka with a broken leg, Pezhu demanding his wages, Kumbil, Kurangaadi, Kasukka with a dislocated elbow,Valiyakaara, Vallabham, Chavandi, stunning Chinnakil , Chittal with a failed brake, Vidana, Sheemappanji, the loan shark Odukku, Oda  on musth,fatherless Kadakonna, childlessShimshapa, Sindooram with a flushed face, Karinthakara singing the thannaaro, Vellappayir high on grass, Poothilanji showing off her blossoms, sour faced Kudampuli.

Wet in the rain Kulamaavu, Kudamaavu circling around himself, Pari from the netherworld,Poopathiri in a priest’s robe,  Poochakadambu on all fours, Kulappunna covered in a blanket, Kundalappala checking his astro forecast, Pachotti, ******* Perumaram, Perumbal  thinking of the sea, phlegm clogged Anathondi, Anakkotti, Cheruthuvara, Ilavangam, Thanni,naughty Thirukkalli,  Karappongu, embracing Kattadi, Thudali, Thelli, Kara, Malayathi,Malavirinji, shameless Kashumaavu,mud slinging Karuka, Vedinal, suicide prone Attumaruthu,Attuvanchi  who glides on the stream like a fallen shadow.

Mandaram  dressed in white, Vanna, brazen Mahagani, Karivelam doing the accounts,Jakarantha, Koombala, friendless Koovalam, Kattukamuku with his hands around friends, Kolli, Paruva,Krishnanaal with a crooked smile, Cocoa with no one to turn to, Cork,Palakapayyani, Pavizhamalli wearing necklace and bangles, a lonely Mazhamaram, Mangium, Mathalam exposing her *******, Chemmaram, Pashakottamaram, Malavembu, tearful Chamatha, Vatta, Vattakoombitired of running around, smoking Pine, Porippovanam, Kaaluvnthatherakam, Thembaavu, grinningDantaputri, Narivenga, Navathi, grumbling Mazhukkanjiram,Arayanjili,  Arayal playing a game with the wind.

Choola kissing the sizzling wind, Arinelli, Maavu reciting sadly the poem Mampazham,  Chandana vembu, Peraal stretching its back, Pulivaaka, Unnam, Naythanbakam,Karpooram in a slow glow, Naaykumbil, trumpeting Pongu, outcast Pottavaaka, bursting Poriyal, vagabond Ponthavaaka, Plaavu lost in some thought, Pootham  head covered , Ethappana  greening while yellowing, Manjadi, Mullanvenga, Mullilam lifting his dhoti to expose his genitals, Mullilavu hopping around, Moongappezhu, Neermaruthu saying enough is enough, withered Neermathalam ,Moottikkay, Ithi, Ithiyaal, Vella velam, Kalppayir, Kallar, Majakkadambu singing a lullaby, Choondappana wary of fish bones.

Stooping Punna, Matti scared of her big brother, Paarijaatham watching the midnight movie, Paalakal, Paali,Paarakam doing cartwheels, Viri, Athi showing off  her seeds,Ampazhammassaging his chest, Ayani inlove with her son, Manjakkonna, Manjamandaram in search of something, Chullithi with eyes closed, Kallilavu like an oozing rock, Malamandaram eyeing the vultures,Velleetti cursing the thunder, Venga,Veppu, Vraali, Akil, sighing Acacia,Balsa, Blanka, Beedimaram with a rattling cough,  Agasthi, Cherukonna with a sheepish smile, Kambali, woundedNagamaram.

Pathiri, touching his forehead to the ground, his eyes heavenward, Ankolam ruined by debts,Kattumarotti, Kundalappala, Aattumaruthu,Poovam, Erumanaakku, Karingotta, Vediplaavu his salary still unpaid, Venmurikku, Manjanaathi, Manimaruthu jolted awake, Mathagirivembu, Karaanjili  escorting his daughter, Karakongu,Karappongu, Ilippa on her way back, Ooravu half-awake after a dream and with a sucker smile, Ennappana about to immolate himself, fattened  Ennappine,Azhantha waiting for someone, Chorapatri with a cracked head,Sheemappoola,Poovankara, Malampuli, Puli with sharpened stakes.

Obese Theettipplaavu,Malambongu, Chorimathimurikku, Irippa bailing out his friend, Irumbakamwho lost his job, Kunkumappoo, Karinthaali, Scoot, Rose Kadambu, Aamathali, Aarampuli,Attilippucaught in the crowd, Irul  blessed by the elders, Vellavatti, whistling Mula, Kattukonna in a hat, Kaniiram learning the alphabets, broker Cheru,Kattuchembakam exposing his arm pit,Thandidiyan, Neeroli, Ezhachembakam waiting for her bus, Karimbana in a newly constructed house, Karivenga,Karivali writing a poem, Ungu in a baby frock, Udi, Plasha, Elamaruthupromising to meet later, Chembakam dying to hug.

Vellakil who bathes the kids, Vellavaaka who forgot his umbrella, Attuthekku who failed the exam, lustful Aattunochi,Malanthudali with her legs spread, Malanthengu with chest ****** up,Malamanchadi who is learning to count, Malambarathi exposing her *******, intoxicated Aval, Arana reciting the poem Karuna, insane Alakku who dashes off to the temple, Cheru who cannot stop washing clothes, Kudappana ready to elope, irreligious Jaathi, Silver Oak laughing boisterously, Kattuveppu waiting for the kids, Sumami ******* on a toffee, annoyed Parappoola,frightened Pinar, Ithi stopping her ears at swear words, Ithiyal with lots of smiles, Kovidaram with music in his mind, Ilakkali showing her belly, blossoming Ilavu, Chadachi who ***** sadistically, cool fingered Chandanam.

dominating Charakkonna, office going Cheelanthi, Gulgulu glued to Kochu channel, Gulmohur with dyed hair, Irul with a fuming face, early rising Kanikonna, Kanala who has a sound sleep, Karingali  who pees standing, Kambakam with an ***** *****, Kallavi  beseeching to stuff her up, Karanjili  quivering in lust, calm Karaal, Kaari who hums while *******, Kaavalam who naps after the toil,Thannimaram showing off her petals, Thambakam kissing the ****, Thellipayar savouring a *****,Neerkurunda in post-****** languor, Malaya breastfeeding her kid, bullying Kathi, mad hat Eetti,Cheeni  not remembering his mom,  Kunnivaka showing his gums, Kuppamanja who laughs in sleep, Othalanga swallowing poison, blooming Poovarasu.

Spring went on,
reeling off names to me.
The rain the sun the wind and the cold
Rolled in one after the other.
Spring kept pulling out
names from its memory.

People got scared of
my poetry gone wild.
They stopped passing that way.

A snake goes slithering away.
A hare finds its own path and dashes away.
A poothankiri, from a bush, flies away.



(Trans from Malayalam by Ra Sh)
1.      Mampazham (Ripe Mango) is the title of a famouspoem by Vyloppilli.
2.      Karuna (Compassion) is the title of a long poemby Kumaran Asan.
3.      Poothankiri – A white headed babbler.
4.      Thanaaro - An obscene devotional song.
LIFE…

Without doubt,

I often ask what life is all about,

And if I so may say,

It seems much like a theatre play.

With humor a comedy,

Without… a tragedy.

Hypocrisy we get for free,

Sincerity, costly for both you and me,

So many lies... religion, politics... false history,

Often made by needy greed of Humanity?

Not only speaking of divine faith,

Fanatics love to hate.

Does anyone have the nerve,

To give us more than we deserve?

Souls with bodies not a body with a soul,

To convenient music we dance one and all.

Wretched yet sweet the melody,

Life... banquets of morsels… what shall it be?

Laughter or tears... So much a mystery...

To be or not to be... Can anyone tell me...



Copyright©1995 Kari M. Knutsen






“Life is often a bumpy ride. Smile when a door closes. Open a window and let your heart and soul fly. They will find a remedy.” - Granny Kari

Copyright©2014 Kari M. Knutsen
Aslam M Jun 2018
Lal rang ki saree ka jawaab nahi hai.
Aisa lagta hai ki Rooh ka libaas hai.  

Haseen Badaan  ko chupati bhi hai
Dil kai dhadkanai kau badaati  hai.  

Kamaar ki woh thar tharanaa.  
Kamil naaf ka woh chup chupunaa.  

Woh gehri aur nazuk sai sozen kari
Aap ki khobsuraati ka izafa kar dehti hai.

Lal rang ki saree ka jawaab nahi hai.
Aisa lagta hai ki Rooh ka libaas hai.
Angela Byrd Jun 2014
Troubles chasing me again,
Breaking down my best defence,
I'm looking, God, I'm looking for you
Weary just won't let me rest and fear is filling up my head.
I'm longing, God I'm longing for you

But I will find you in the place I'm in, find you when I'm at my end,
Find you when there's nothing left of me to offer you except for brokenness.
You lift me up, you'll never leave me thirsty,
When I am weak, when I am lost and searching
I'll find you on my knees.

So what if sorrow shakes my faith,
What if heartache still remains,
I'll trust you, my god I'll trust you.
'Cause You are faithful and

I will find you in the place I'm in, find you when I'm at my end,
Find you when there's nothing left of me to offer you except for brokenness.
You lift me up, you'll never leave me thirsty,
When I am weak, when I am lost and searching
I'll find you on my knees, my knees.

When my hope is gone, when the fear is strong
When the pain is real, when it's hard to heal
When my faith is shaken and my heart is broken and my joy is stolen, God I know that

You lift me up, you'll never leave me searching,

Find you in the place I'm in, find you when I'm at my end,
Find you when there's nothing left of me to offer you except for brokenness.
You lift me up, you'll never leave me thirsty,
When I am weak, when I am lost and searching
I'll find you on my knees.
Lyrics inspire me
JAMIL HUSSAIN Nov 2017
**** Damakta, Zulf Ghaneri
Rangin Lab, Ankhein Jadu

Body aflame and curling of locks so thick
Colourful lips and eyes so charming

Sang-e-Marmar, Uda Badal
Surḳh Shafaq, Hairan Aahu

Ivory stone altering so royal-mauve
Evening twilight so red and dazzled gazelles

Raatein Mahki, Sansein Dahki
Nazrein Bahki, Rut Lahki

Fragrant nights and sighs kindling
Glances intoxicating, season so blooming

Prem Khilauna, Sapn Salona
Phul Bichhauna, Vo Pahlu

Game of love, stunning dreams
Flowers spreading, O’ that view

Tum Se Duri, Ye Majburi
Zaḳhm-e-Kari, Bedari

Away from you, so helpless
Penetrating wound and no vigilance

Tanha Raatein, Sapne Katein
Khud Se Batien, Meri Khu*

Lonely nights and biting dreams
Talking to self, my habit so new

✒ Translated by ℐamil Hussain , Sung by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan
j f Jan 2013
You cannot press the page as if you are trying to tattoo meaning onto it. People so often forget the words as supposed to do that for you, ink askew, words committing Hari Kari ***** nilly as they derail into one another, meaning unintelligible as the point of the modern day history channel programming schedule. It is a varsity track jacket for the masses, mass produced for those unable to sew it themselves or earn it through bestowed prowess. Even national bestsellers are written in pencil these days, and before their sentence is pronounced, the verdict has been erased by the side palm of our ever-loving adhd. The thinly split nib, the exposed *** crack of a wayward genius is mocked until covered, no longer ******* the stuff of sanity, and as a result the fools rule literature with a tin scepter of complacency.
TO ALL FALLEN BROTHERS

To all courageous lives ended with sword, cannon or bullets of lead.

To all Brothers… No longer our enemies instead…

For Power and Ambition even Friends will part.

To silent fallen Heroes always true to a loyal heart.

To Courage always ready to fight for what thought right.

To Brave Men convinced Honour is being Victorious,

Now certain bones on battlefields are never Glorious.

To Sons taught to hate by greedy, ambitious men.

To many a young Mate we shall never see again.

To gallant Officers who believed what was told,

Always willing to give, but hardly getting old...

Eloquence never asking: “Parlez vous…?”

Or merely educated: “How do you do?”

On battlefields God was indeed hard to find,

And we wondered; is He on your side or mine?

Perhaps never wanting to be near,

Seeing what we are really doing down here...

Again infinite bones in rotting uniforms everywhere,

Whilst no one hardly remembers or troubles to care...

What we believed in, how we spoke or who we were.



People even snubbing whether whatever left of you,

Is in the rags of a Redcoat, in dark green or French blue,

But needless to tell… still much of a man,

For yet your bones in a muddy field give what they can.

Whether an arm, a leg or a scull… all just grounded up,

To raise a much better crop… for Life will never stop.

Just dirt to dirt... Man again fertilizing Mother Earth.

All the same, said never to be found lying around…

Bloodied buttons and buckles secretly hidden in hay,

Are polished and sold by those in need on a rainy day.

Again virility of spring...

Is in autumn quite a nourishing thing,

For Life still goes around and around in ring…

Even dressed in proud red, white and blue… more than two…

Maps and Rulers changed in less than a hundred years,

Ludicrous is our Hate and our Fears.

Do let us in memory of Confucius agree,

For seasoned veterans of war and intellect are we thought to be,


Saluting in attention with infinitely more comprehension,

We Honour You Forever still certain Humanity might never understand,

Honor, Glory and Victory are in Brothers holding out a Loving hand.



Col. RCEF Sir William Francis Willoughby Lindesay   England

KG GCB KP KT



Col. RCEF Sir Robert Eowan Lochlan McGregor          Scotland

KG GCB KP KT



1st. Royal Life Guards  1807 - 1810

13Th. “Jolly Ruffians “Rifle Company On Foot 1810  Portugal, Spain

13Th. Mounted “Wildman“ Rifle Company 1811-1814 Spain

1st. Royal Life Guards

Royal Cavaliers-Elite Force   Secret Intelligence Service 1814



                          Willowbee Manor, Lindesay Hall, Yorkshire 1814





                                      CONFUCIUS 551 - 479 BC

                                                Golden Rule
                                     Basic Rights for Humanity

      Do not do to others what you do not wish to be done to yourself.



Copyright©2013 by Kari M. Knutsen
WORMS

Hello! Chester here… Missing you so,
A bookworm am I,
Oh, yesss, today just sliding by…
With spectacles on my nose,
I do both poetry and prose.
Want to hear more about me …
And my family…?
So awfully lovely to see you again,
Perhaps a few secrets for you, my friend?

Plump cousins I have in the strangest places,
On blue Stilton cheese are not only their faces…
There’s even a cousin with a thousand little feet…
The shoemaker thinks he’s a treat.
Mostly here somewhere, we always share…
And war seen so many times before,
Just like greedy maggots, ended battles we do adore,
And there is even more…

Not a treat, some worms you never want to meet,
A part of the family is really mean,
Trust me, they're the worst worms you’ve ever seen,
For those eat dead people really clean!
Others just eat wood and all they ever could.
And don’t let me start,
With Mr. Snooks… worming into Miss Prissy’s heart!

Once there was even a tapeworm from a whale,
100 feet long, both sexes… He and She were for sale!
Just like people… large, short, skinny or hairy,
Some worms fancy meat or plants… others dairy.
Seeing ample aggravation… there was an invitation…
And all I have to say today… Now on my way…
To the cemetery without delay,
But I’ll be back, Sweetheart… Someday...


Copyright©2013 Kari M. Knutsen


.
Remembering that water's in the clouds,
I'm suddenly drenched in their tears.
My head is always in the clouds
sleeping and drowning in all of my drenched fears.

I yearn for my insides to stop embarrassing me eternally
because feelings are so out of season,
and not in the vintage retro cool kind of way.

Everything I compose is a duet
but my shadow, though it can emulate me,
can't embrace me like you can.
My shadow and I can't surrender into each other
like my late partner.

Who am I going to wander with in the frigid rain?
and who am I going to share this hideaway with
that's nested in my frigid brain?

I keep guiding these invisible spectacles in my head
like a ghostly shepherd,
and perform them for my imaginary phantom inamorata
igniting and burning my ethereal phoenix bird.

and so I'll linger here helpless and conquered
longing for someone to hearken my silent
high pitched banshee shriek,
which continues to remain unheard.

Feel like a raindrop in an ocean,
just a teardrop in a dragon's eye.
Just an ant in a sand hill
scurrying from gargantuan shoes and haunting lies

And so I'll hideaway and bide my time
until it's gone and I evaporate
because these great expectations
will forever be far too great.

This is familiar ground I stand on.
This is familiar ground I fall to my knees on.
This is familiar ground I sleep upon.
This is familiar ground I'm buried beneath.

So I'm waiting for someone to say something.
I'm waiting for someone to stop asking me,
"Are you okay, miss?"
as if it makes a difference.

You've fooled me once, you've fooled me twice
you've fooled me thrice
you've fooled me everlastingly.
I'm a dazed and gullible fool.
You're the jester; I just wish the joke was on you.

Forever only a lady
and never anyone's rose to tame.
I long to be the rose just this once, maybe.
Please. Tame me.

So I stuff the holes in my chest with neon lights
and curled up currency and healthy pours
as my viscera seeps out my unhealthy pores
making muddled puddles on these many ***** floors.

and your attention lacerates me like a disembowelment
but my it's my affection that  is the Hari-Kari
while your schizophrenic agenda is the knife.
Together we're a daily ritual suicide.

I never knew we were born to die
because I've been forever blind.
Thought you could be my lucky cricket
until my heart ended up dead on the roadside.

So sing my neglected soul to sleep.
May it rest peacefully in pieces
while my severed heart wanders aimlessly.
Hannah Turner Nov 2014
I was haunted. I'm not haunted anymore, rather, the ghost of you likes to knock on the door of my heart every now and then to remind me you still exist. Tonight, I let that ghost in for the first time in months. And I wonder what your life is like now.

Are you just itching with excitement that graduation is less than a month away? Are you finally getting out of Lubbock and moving to San Diego like you always wanted? What were your thoughts on the world cup? I know how much you love soccer and it's starting to get cold again...do you ever wear that Liverpool beanie I gave to you for your birthday? Probably not. I wouldn't be surprised if you threw that in the trash long ago.

I also wonder if you already met someone new. The girl of your dreams who will listen to Kari Jobe and eat taco bell with you (I never really liked taco bell anyway). I hope not--but that's just because I'm selfish.

I wonder how much you know about my life. Did you hear I got a dog? Did you see my halloween costume this year? You would have loved it. Did you know my new dream is to be a street photographer in New York City?

I wonder if God is changing you--more so if you're letting him change you. Or if you're just as stubborn thinking that leaving this town full of memories will solve everything.

I know you burned our bridge long ago. And I am way over trying to rebuild it, but...I'll always care about you no matter how many other bridges are built with new people.

11:05PM and I'm done wondering about you. I let you're ghost in and it's time to let him out. Because I need to sleep, and I can't sleep with you here....goodnight.
A KISS...

Why such commotion for only a kiss?

Asking that do know this;

It was the most earth moving thing,

It was summer and winter, autumn and spring.

Something truly special many will miss.

It was Christmas and May and unending bliss.

It was heaven and earth, fire and ice,

Ten thousand fold more than only nice.

Eloquence without a single word,

Mad secret frenzy... never heard,

Warm lips even caressed by tantalizing fingers,

And a certain feeling that not only lingers…

Hurried urges up and down a spine;

"Be mine! Be mine!"

Both exuding passion and infinite charms,

Being close with much more than only arms.

It was me and you what else did we do…?

Indeed done too…

But with a kiss it all begun,

And now my Sweet Bessie we are One.



With Love and then some...

Always Yours,

Willoughby



Copyright©2013 by Kari M. Knutsen
They met in 1810... well, the first time in 1807... Once... when He was 17 and She a mystery... and a whole lot more... one foggy evening in a nondescript black carriage... Meeting again in 1810, still married Countess Jane Elizabeth Beaumont de Clair at 32... Ooops! Really 37... lying about her age... did not hesitate to "generously accommodate" young Willoughby... by now a Heavy Cavalry Lieutenant... IN... or Not in a Uniform... and who insisted "Love is an Art" and "Nothing is Impossible," falling flat on his face... and more... Again... and She... his former "Mystery Lady"... becomes his Sweet Bessie...this time meeting in a library due to a silly bet, but he comes back the next day, surprising her indeed presenting her with a poem he has written ... and she loves... kissing him even more... even seeing a drawing of her Willoughby has made as well... he has called "My Sweet Bessie."
March 1989...

GOODBYES…
I never kissed your lips… or closed your eyes,
Refusing to whisper any gentle goodbyes.
Never done when my beloved Brother so dies...
The phone rang and a man simply said:
”Hello… I’m afraid your brother is dead.”
Professional, again kind humanity evaded me,
But shock and despair were instantly there.
Already dead, a silent body had to wait,
For a funeral two weeks too late…
Pink roses on a closed coffin,
So white in the dark night…
Why not goodbye…?
In heartbreaking sorrow bowing my head,
It was my screaming soul that cried instead:
“Why…? Oh, why are you dead?
Instead of such tragedy,
Why…? Oh, why didn’t you talk to me?

Where are you now? Where did you go?
Alone, there’s no one left… I miss you so!
Always an adventurous Viking, tall and strong,
What went wrong…?”
Now without a home… the world I shall roam,
Belonging here and there… not anywhere,
Different… just a stranger from far away…
Many will smile and say.
Needless to tell a white orchid my last farewell,
So it shall be… making no difference to me,
My brethren now Humanity.
And knowing what I know,
Brother, I could have told you so,
Riches never gold…
The greatest treasure is Love… billions fold.



March 1991

Today, I could cry,

Not saying Goodbye,

And never said long since...

Farewell and So Long, Sweet Prince.



Copyright©1992 Kari M. Knutsen
Hello there, my Friend!
Thank you for visiting!
Not easy... most of us have said Goodbye to someone... Forever... not really wanting to do so... even so we do... and must. Sometimes however, others choose to say Goodbye... to everyone and everything... certain our lives are our own... but are they really...?

Long since... in 1989...  losing my only Brother...The irony of being told 2 months later by doctors I had cancer and 6 months to live at the most is enormous, of course. Even so, needed and convinced I had much to live for, I'm still here and smiling, infinitely grateful to be alive. All THAT and more... happened 25 years ago. Oh, yesss! And now a Granny of 8 Wonderful and Amazing Darlings, a happy and grateful soul, I am even having the time of my Life writing a Novel and Poetry. Do you think... even though if not always... Happiness is a state of mind we can choose?

Do tell me, I would like to know what you think, my Friend.

Thank you!
Willoughby is mad as hell... in 1940... Ooops...


WAR ... AND MORE...


Ever seen the letters W... A and R together before?

Oh yes... Anew not only those are making WAR.

Will that frequent horror ever pass?

That inexcusable "Thing" on Humanity’s ***!

An everlasting incurable boil ghastly sore,

Oozing the worst of Humanity and more?

Constantly coming and going like the tide,

But when and where just a few decide.

People are masters of hate and grisly deed,


Never taught what is wanted might not be of need.

Power and ambition never ask permission,

Whilst irrational hate use provocation,

And millions of lives face elimination.



Eloquence and Hypocrisy firmly hand in hand,

We call Diplomacy... politicians understand.

Greed for power mortal weapons do invent,

And again from brave men in the skies,

More death and hellish horrors are sent,

As angels with devastating metal wings,

Abolish infinitely more than things…

Am I still asking is a God truly up there?

Guaranteed He is near and with many side,

Billions in His glory sanctimoniously hide.

Believed defended by forgiveness and love,

Many are blessed by a man Holier than Thou.

Wars good business throughout history,

Merciless souls hardly thought that a mystery.

Nothing was ever nailed unshakably tight,

Even souls are bought if the price is right.



Most never find meaning in being too meek,

For hardly anyone will turn the other cheek.

As for Humanity’s desperate, everlasting quest,

The God called Power was always the best.

There was never a War ending all that is War,

And just as the forgotten ones in times of yore,

Will you later give a **** what this one was for?

Yet dispensable battalions will always fight,

For pay, honor and what insisted is right.

Brave soldiers always proud not to complain,

Are heroes dying well in seas, mud and rain,

As one more profitable War must be won,

Still wonder… Why the hell all of it begun?


Willoughby

Christmas Eve 1940



Copyright©2013 by Kari M. Knutsen
WELCOME TO MY WORLD!
http://www.omikari1.com/270383889
ENJOY!
Zindagi us khuda ki banai bisaat hai jis k hum sab mohre hai..
Uske dar tak k raaste me.. Nashukro k liye kohre hi kohre hai

Jo behtar khel jayega wohi jeet jayega..
Par ye hoga tabhi Jab woh behatreen akhlakh apnayega


Khelte khelte kai to fanah ** gaye..
Kai Sikandar..****** jaise tabah ** gaye..
Maiyyat se khali haath bahar le kar is duniya se wida ** gaye

Rubaru apne kafan se jo jeete ji ** gaye..
Mukammal jahan unhi ko mila..jo khuda ki panah me ** gaye

Zindagi me jinhone ilm rakha us khuda ko Yaad karna..
Namaze adda kari..Gurbani paddi.. Granth padde..Hukumname diye..
khuda ne hosle itne buland kr diye..Apne noor se sabhi manzilo..Jannat k raaste unhi k liye Roshan kar diye

Zindagi me Naam..Shoharat unhe bahut mili..jinme alfazo se khelne ha hunar aa gaya..
Sir chad k jinke ye inayat na boli..woh us khuda ko tah umra bha gaya😊
Aryan Sam Sep 2018
Nafrat kardi he na mere naal?
Ta sun,
*** nafrat is tarah kari
Ki jis din me mara
Tere tere muh bus ehi nikle
Ki “shukar he marea sala”
DEAD AND GONE

Dead and gone,

My life is done.

Could not take there,

What is still laying here.

If dear to me and one I knew,

Loving farewell for now to you,

If not… The same,

You’re not to blame.

Here for a while and happy to be,

You can forget or remember me,

But always with Love my Friend,

And more from “Somewhere” I send,

For one day again smiles we shall see,

And perhaps forever together be…

You and… me…



Copyright©2012 Kari M. Knutsen
Not easy... most of us have said Goodbye to someone... Forever... not really wanting to do so... even so we do... and must. Sometimes however, others choose to say Goodbye... to everyone and everything... certain our lives are our own... but are they really...?



March 1989...



GOODBYES…
I never kissed your lips… or closed your eyes,
Refusing to whisper any gentle goodbyes.
Never done when my beloved Brother so dies...
The phone rang and a man simply said:
”Hello… I’m afraid your brother is dead.”
Professional, again kind humanity evaded me,
But shock and despair were instantly there.
Already dead, a silent body had to wait,
For a funeral two weeks too late…
Pink roses on a closed coffin,
So white in the dark night…
Why not goodbye…?
In heartbreaking sorrow bowing my head,
It was my screaming soul that cried instead:
“Why…? Oh, why are you dead?
Instead of such tragedy,
Why…? Oh, why didn’t you talk to me?

Where are you now? Where did you go?
Alone, there’s no one left… I miss you so!
Always an adventurous Viking, tall and strong,
What went wrong…?”
Now without a home… the world I shall roam,
Belonging here and there… not anywhere,
Different… just a stranger from far away…
Many will smile and say.
Needless to tell a white orchid my last farewell,
So it shall be… making no difference to me,
My brethren now Humanity.
And knowing what I know,
Brother, I could have told you so,
Riches never gold…
The greatest treasure is Love… billions fold.



March 1991



Today, I could cry,

Not saying Goodbye,

And never said long since...

Farewell and So Long, Sweet Prince.


Copyright©1992 Kari M. Knutsen
Long since... in 1989...  losing my only Brother...The irony of being told 2 months later by doctors I had cancer and 6 months to live at the most is enormous, of course. Even so, needed and convinced I had much to live for, I'm still here and smiling, infinitely grateful to be alive. All THAT and more... happened 25 years ago. Oh, yesss! And now a Granny of 8 Wonderful and Amazing Darlings, a happy and grateful soul, I am even having the time of my Life writing a Novel and Poetry. Do you think... even though if not always... Happiness is a state of mind we can choose?

Do tell me, I would like to know what you think, my Friend.

Thank you!



SMILE AND MAKE OTHERS SMILE, FEELING GOOD IF ONLY FOR A SECOND! HAPPINESS IS WITHIN ALL OF US.  

WE JUST HAVE TO LOOK FOR IT. LIFE IS PRECIOUS AND TOO SHORT NOT TO.
Michael Aug 2021
The silken curtains blowing in the wind
Two hearts turned towards each other
Gosh you smell good
And to see you from where I stand
I am thankful to be your man
Honesty from a spark
In a posthumous ****** sight
I replay you in high heels
Wondering why I can’t stay longer
Yeah why can’t I stay longer?
In the dark and light from lightning flashes
Two become one, yours and my heart crashes
And talk until the dawn
And the watching of the sun
I never want us to end
And as I yawn, it must seem
This is a dream
And you’re not really here
And yes it’s sad
A love kept dimensionally unrequited
You are Shalla-Bal and I am Norrin Radd
Na likh ska na bol ska ki mai tenu kinna chauhni,

Tuhadi bina adhura haigi tuhadi sajni.



Tuhade naal ek pal vi gaal jado ** jaandi,

Mai saare vele khushi khushi muskandi.



Jado tussi naraaz hunde,

Sannu ta saah vi ne aunde.



Tuhanu tuhade tou mai maang lawa,

Apni dil o jaan tuhanu de dawa.



Tussi jado hasde meri rooh khildi,

Maaf kari menu agar hoyi bhul kadi.



Tuhade baajo ek pal vi jee nahi sakdi,

Tuhanu vekh vekh hi mai mai hasdi.



Tuhani dil mandir ch basaya,

Tuhade naam da sindoor mathe sajaya.



Sansaar mai aapde dohan sa tuhade naina ch vekh leya,

Tuhade baigaar mai khakk di vi nahi mere mahiya.



Saari janama tuhadi, tuhade bina nahi jeona,

Ve main tuhadi je na hoyi hor kise de ni hona.



Sune meri rabb ek chah ve adhura,

Saddi har saah te ohda haqq hove poora.



Ohde baajo koi zindagi nahi chahidi,

Daaman failaye mai ohnu hi mangdi.
Gaffer Sep 2016
What do you know
Didn’t work out for you and Joe
What can I say
Did I mention he was gay
Still, what about you and Di
Brought a tear to a glass eye
It was your mum who asked the question
What’s a Bi ,,,,,
Had to laugh, my oh my
Still, these things are sent to try us
Sorry about Gus, and the bus
Just not fare, oops sorry, meant fair
Your mother tells me you’ve met the one
Drumroll please, he’s Japanese
Strange name though, Harry
Okay just got an update, Hara Kari
What are you doing with these guys, never mind Di
Your mum says its been a week with the Greek
I’m over the moon
Spoke too soon
Fell off his horse
Was it wooden
I’m hearing you’re in Finland with some geyser called Stan
Already I’m thinking, poor man
Okay, your mum’s going on about a bear
Now Stan’s no longer there
It’s a nightmare
Where will it end
What, you’ve found a friend
Setting a new trend
Well, now I feel at ease
You’re kidding, deadly disease
Your mum says you want to try again
O.M.G, have you gone insane
I’m heading for the hills
Taking pills
Throwing myself under a train
Missed the bus
Playing Russian roulette
Oh no, I've just realised
This is how it all begun
You've won.
Mere dil ch vasdeya hai mera sajna,
Mathe tey sindoor ohde naam da sajda.

Shukra hai tera dil tou mere saaiyan,
Je mainu mileya eho jeya mahiya.

Khuda vikheya mainu ohde ch,
Padh lenda oh har vele dilon vich.

Koch kehn di lod ni payi,
Kawan tou pehla akhha padh layi.

Dilon da suroor ohde naal milda,
Baaga ch phul ohdi khushbu naal khilda.

Mere dil di har dadhkan ch ohi samaya,
Ohde siwa mai rabb kolo kuch na mangeya.

Zindagi sohni ve,
Jado oh naal hove.

Ohde siwa mera hor koi ni,
Ohnu juda kar mainu na rol deyi.

Saaha tham jouga jado ohtho dur kitta,
Maula meri zindagi da har pal tu likh ditta.

Rul assi jawange Je tu sadda haath chadheya,
Tere bina saada zindagi ch koi hor ni mileya.

Assi jiunde aasre sirf mahiya de,
Likh dewi ohda saath sadde sanjog ve.

Meri jaan vasdi ohde vich,
Ohda naam hi hove hattha mehandi ch.

Mathhe diya likhhiya ch zor sadda ni chalda,
Par sadda bharosa hai jado tu baah fadda.

Kayenaat badal dewi saddi kahani poori kari,
Mai rabb kolo sirf tainu magdi, tainu mangdi.
Aryan Sam Oct 2018
Kyu tang kita hoea yaar
jad *** chad hi *** he
ta nikal bi ja mere dimag wicho
mere dil wicho
ewe kyu baar baar aake dimag khrab kar rahi
me bilkul bi concentrate nai kr pa reha apne business te
har time ohi purania gallan chli ja rahiya mind wich
jad *** chad ke ja chuki he
ta apnia yaadan bi le ja
menu ni chahidia eh yaadan
metho ni roea janda sala daily daily
Please. yaad ana band kar
me last time badi okhi recovery kiti c
etki nai ** rahi recovery
please koi dua kari ki menu tu yaad na awe.
hell bani hoi life.
Aryan Sam Mar 2018
Yaar bus kr
Kyu ena tang kita

Aap ta sali nazare le rahi
Te meri zindagi khrab kiti hoi
Bus kar, kyu aai ja rahi mind wich baar baar
Sonde hoye nu ta zee *** de
Kato kat sapnea wich ta na aa
Maar lai tuci meri
Keho jahi baddua diti he menu?

Ya rabba mehar kari
Shahjahan Feb 2021
Here love blossoms
Here people come running frankly
Here the head bows in reverence
Here Bengali is the book of poetry.
Here is a fistful of hands in vows to remember the martyrs
Here the Bengali's roared
Such as Ekushey of Bahanna one day
Woke up.
The world has seen a lot of shots
Didn't see the language soaked in blood February!
Hyena's team is so brazen and so barbaric
Kari wants to take her mother's language
Salam-Barkat Rafiq-Shafiq Jabbar
The vigilant guard of the mother tongue poured out the ****** of the chest.
Then a Mujib at the front of the procession
Sheikh Mujib is at the forefront of history
Bengal and Bengali took the lead
Fifty-two sixty-two - we got the demand to survive
The days of seventy-nine fires have come
Bangabandhu got Bengali
Day of release ahead.
In nineteen years, Bengalis took the form of the liberation army
Twenty-one to seventy-one
Mujib gave the call - at the March racecourse
When he heard the shackle-breaking poem
"This time the struggle is for freedom" ...
The fort was built from house to house
The defeated Pak army looked at him with a smirk
The red-green flag flew over the open land of Bengal
The people of Bangladesh chanted the slogan in unison - Joybangla!
The world has never seen such a February, such a March, such a December of victory
Proud Shaheed Minar with red-green flag!
The poem Written by  Professor Nani Gopal Sarker
Aryan Sam Mar 2018
Tu bi kade kade
Yaad kar laye kari
Me ta ewe hi
Nit koi na koi
Gal likhda rahu
Crying
Takaha Shugyo haiku and tanka translations

Takaha Shugyo (1930-) is a Japanese poet. He was born in Japan's mountainous Yamagata Prefecture and began writing haiku at age fifteen. He studied with the renowned Yamaguchi Seishi and Akimoto Fujio, won the Young Poet's Award in 1965, then went on to found the haiku magazine KARI in 1978.

Wild geese pass
leaving the emptiness of heaven
revealed
― Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Are the geese flying south?
The candle continues to flicker ...
―Takaha Shugyo, 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

A single tree
with a heart carved into its trunk
blossoms prematurely
―Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Still clad in its clown's costume—
the dead ladybird.
―Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch


Inside the cracked shell
of a walnut:
one empty room
― Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Such gloom!
Inside the walnut's cracked shell:
one empty room
―Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Bring me an icicle
sparkling with the stars
of the deep north
― Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Seen from the skyscraper
the trees' fresh greenery:
parsley sprigs
― Takaha Shugyo, 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

Tree crickets chirping—
after I've judged
a thousand verses today!
―Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Crickets chirping discordantly—
how to judge
ten thousand verses?
―Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Original Haiku

Sleepyheads!
I recite my haiku
to the inattentive lilies.
—Michael R. Burch



POEMS ABOUT NIGHTMARES

My nightmare ...
by Michael R. Burch, writing as “The Child Poets of Gaza”

I had a dream of Jesus!
Mama, his eyes were so kind!
But behind him I saw a billion Christians
hissing "You're nothing!," so blind.



Excelsior
by Michael R. Burch

I lift my eyes and laugh, Excelsior . . .
Why do you come, wan spirit, heaven-gowned,
complaining that I am no longer “pure?”

I threw myself before you, and you frowned,
so full of noble chastity, renowned
for leaving maidens maidens. In the dark
I sought love’s bright enchantment, but your lips
were stone; my fiery metal drew no spark
to light the cold dominions of your heart.

What realms were ours? What leasehold? And what claim
upon these territories, cold and dark,
do you seek now, pale phantom? Would you light
my heart in death and leave me ashen-white,
as you are white, extinguished by the Night?



Excerpts from the Journal of Dorian Gray
by Michael R. Burch

It was not so much dream, as error;
I lay and felt the creeping terror
of what I had become take hold . . .

The moon watched, silent, palest gold;
the picture by the mantle watched;
the clock upon the mantle talked,
in halting voice, of minute things . . .

Twelve strokes like lashes and their stings
scored anthems to my loneliness,
but I have dreamed of what is best,
and I have promised to be good . . .

Dismembered limbs in vats of wood,
foul acids, and a strangled cry!
I did not care, I watched him die . . .

Each lovely rose has thorns we miss;
they ***** our lips, should we once kiss
their mangled limbs, or think to clasp
their violent beauty. Dream, aghast,
the flower of my loveliness,
this ageless face (for who could guess?),
and I will kiss you when I rise . . .

The patterns of our lives comprise
strange portraits. Mine, I fear,
proved dear indeed . . . Adieu!
The knife’s for you.

Originally published by Dusk & Shiver Magazine



ROBERT BURNS TRANSLATIONS/MODERNIZATIONS

Comin Thro the Rye
by Robert Burns

Oh, Jenny's all wet, poor body,
Jenny's seldom dry;
She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin' through the rye.

Comin' through the rye, poor body,
Comin' through the rye.
She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin' through the rye.

Should a body meet a body
Comin' through the rye,
Should a body kiss a body,
Need anybody cry?

Comin' through the rye, poor body,
Comin' through the rye.
She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin' through the rye.

Should a body meet a body
Comin' through the glen,
Should a body kiss a body,
Need all the world know, then?

Comin' through the rye, poor body,
Comin' through the rye.
She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin' through the rye.



A Red, Red Rose
by Robert Burns
translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch

Oh, my love is like a red, red rose
that's newly sprung in June
and my love is like the melody
that's sweetly played in tune.

And you're so fair, my lovely lass,
and so deep in love am I,
that I will love you still, my dear,
till all the seas run dry.

Till all the seas run dry, my dear,
and the rocks melt with the sun!
And I will love you still, my dear,
while the sands of life shall run.

And fare you well, my only love!
And fare you well, awhile!
And I will come again, my love,
though it were ten thousand miles!



Banks of Doon
by Robert Burns
translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch

Oh, banks and hills of lovely Doon,
How can you bloom so fresh and fair;
How can you chant, ecstatic birds,
When I'm so weary, full of care!

You'll break my heart, small warblers,
Flittering through the flowering thorn:
Reminding me of long-lost joys,
Departed—never to return!

I've often wandered lovely Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine;
And as the lark sang of its love,
Just as fondly, I sang of mine.

Then gaily-hearted I plucked a rose,
So fragrant upon its thorny tree;
And my false lover stole my rose,
But, ah!, he left the thorn in me.



Auld Lange Syne
by Robert Burns
translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
And days for which we pine?

For times we shared, my darling,
Days passed, once yours and mine,
We’ll raise a cup of kindness yet,
To those fond-remembered times!

Have you ever wondered just exactly what you're singing? "Auld lang syne" means something like "times gone by" or "times long since passed" and in the context of the song means something like "times long since passed that we shared together and now remember fondly." In my translation, which is not word-for-word, I try to communicate what I believe Burns was trying to communicate: raising a toast to fond recollections of times shared in the past.



To a Mouse
by Robert Burns
translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch

Sleek, tiny, timorous, cowering beast,
why's such panic in your breast?
Why dash away, so quick, so rash,
in a frenzied flash
when I would be loath to pursue you
with a murderous plowstaff!

I'm truly sorry Man's dominion
has broken Nature's social union,
and justifies that bad opinion
which makes you startle,
when I'm your poor, earth-born companion
and fellow mortal!

I have no doubt you sometimes thieve;
What of it, friend? You too must live!
A random corn-ear in a shock's
a small behest; it-
'll give me a blessing to know such a loss;
I'll never miss it!

Your tiny house lies in a ruin,
its fragile walls wind-rent and strewn!
Now nothing's left to construct you a new one
of mosses green
since bleak December's winds, ensuing,
blow fast and keen!

You saw your fields laid bare and waste
with weary winter closing fast,
and cozy here, beneath the blast,
you thought to dwell,
till crash! the cruel iron ploughshare passed
straight through your cell!

That flimsy heap of leaves and stubble
had cost you many a weary nibble!
Now you're turned out, for all your trouble,
less house and hold,
to endure cold winter's icy dribble
and hoarfrosts cold!

But mouse-friend, you are not alone
in proving foresight may be vain:
the best-laid schemes of Mice and Men
go oft awry,
and leave us only grief and pain,
for promised joy!

Still, friend, you're blessed compared with me!
Only present dangers make you flee:
But, ouch!, behind me I can see
grim prospects drear!
While forward-looking seers, we
humans guess and fear!



To a Louse
by Robert Burns
translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch

Hey! Where're you going, you crawling hair-fly?
Your impudence protects you, barely;
I can only say that you swagger rarely
Over gauze and lace.
Though faith! I fear you dine but sparely
In such a place.

You ugly, creeping, blasted wonder,
Detested, shunned by both saint and sinner,
How dare you set your feet upon her—
So fine a lady!
Go somewhere else to seek your dinner
On some poor body.

Off! around some beggar's temple shamble:
There you may creep, and sprawl, and scramble,
With other kindred, jumping cattle,
In shoals and nations;
Where horn nor bone never dare unsettle
Your thick plantations.

Now hold you there! You're out of sight,
Below the folderols, snug and tight;
No, faith just yet! You'll not be right,
Till you've got on it:
The very topmost, towering height
Of miss's bonnet.

My word! right bold you root, contrary,
As plump and gray as any gooseberry.
Oh, for some rank, mercurial resin,
Or dread red poison;
I'd give you such a hearty dose, flea,
It'd dress your noggin!

I wouldn't be surprised to spy
You on some housewife's flannel tie:
Or maybe on some ragged boy's
Pale undervest;
But Miss's finest bonnet! Fie!
How dare you jest?

Oh Jenny, do not toss your head,
And lash your lovely braids abroad!
You hardly know what cursed speed
The creature's making!
Those winks and finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice-taking!

O would some Power with vision teach us
To see ourselves as others see us!
It would from many a blunder free us,
And foolish notions:
What airs in dress and carriage would leave us,
And even devotion!

#BURNS #MRBURNS



POEMS ABOUT SAINTS AND SINNERS

Of Seabound Saints and Promised Lands
by Michael R. Burch

Judas sat on a wretched rock,
his head still sore from Satan’s gnawing.
Saint Brendan’s curragh caught his eye,
wildly geeing and hawing.

"I’m on parole from Hell today!,"
Pale Judas cried from his lonely perch.
"You’ve fasted forty days, good Saint!
Let this rock by my church,
my baptismal, these icy waves.
O, plead for me now with the One who saves!"

Saint Brendan, full of mercy, stood
at the lurching prow of his flimsy bark,
and mightily prayed for the mangy man
whose flesh flashed pale and stark
in the golden dawn, beneath a sun
that seemed to halo his tonsured dome.
Then Saint Brendan sailed for the Promised Land
and Saint Judas headed Home.

O, behoove yourself, if ever you can,
of the fervent prayer of a righteous man!

In Dante’s "Inferno," Satan gnaws on Judas Iscariot’s head. A curragh is a boat fashioned from wood and ox hides. Saint Brendan of Ireland is the patron saint of sailors and whales. According to legend, he sailed in search of the Promised Land and discovered America centuries before Columbus.




DANTE TRANSLATIONS
Translations of Dante Epigrams and Quotes by Michael R. Burch

Little sparks may ignite great Infernos.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

In Beatrice I beheld the outer boundaries of blessedness.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

She made my veins and even the pulses within them tremble.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Her sweetness left me intoxicated.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Love commands me by determining my desires.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Follow your own path and let the bystanders gossip.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The devil is not as dark as depicted.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

There is no greater sorrow than to recall how we delighted in our own wretchedness.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As he, who with heaving lungs escaped the suffocating sea, turns to regard its perilous waters.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

O human race, born to soar heavenward, why do you nosedive in the mildest breeze?—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

O human race, born to soar heavenward, why do you quail at the least breath of wind?—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Midway through my life’s journey
I awoke to find myself lost in a trackless wood,
for I had strayed far from the straight path.
—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

INSCRIPTION ON THE GATE OF HELL
Before me nothing existed, to fear.
Eternal I am, and eternal I endure.
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



POEMS ABOUT TIME, LOSS AND FADING MEMORIES

Cycles
by Michael R. Burch

I see his eyes caress my daughter’s *******
through her thin cotton dress,
and how an indiscreet strap of her white bra
holds his bald fingers
in fumbling mammalian awe . . .
And I remember long cycles into the bruised dusk
of a distant park,
hot blushes,
wild, disembodied rushes of blood,
portentous intrusions of lips, tongues and fingers . . .
and now in him the memory of me lingers
like something thought rancid,
proved rotten.
I see Another again—hard, staring, and silent—
though long-ago forgotten . . .
And I remember conjectures of ***** lines,
brief flashes of white down bleacher stairs,
coarse patches of hair glimpsed in bathroom mirrors,
all the odd, questioning stares . . .
Yes, I remember it all now,
and I shoo them away,
willing them not to play too long or too hard
in the back yard—
with a long, ineffectual stare
that years from now, he may suddenly remember.



Photographs
by Michael R. Burch

Here are the effects of a life
and they might tell us a tale
(if only we had time to listen)
of how each imperiled tear would glisten,
remembered as brightness in her eyes,
and how each dawn’s dramatic skies
could never match such pale azure.

Like dreams of her, these ghosts endure
and they tell us a tale of impatient glory . . .
till a line appears—a trace of worry?—
or the wayward track of a wandering smile
which even now can charm, beguile?

We might find good cause to wonder
as we see her pause (to frown?, to ponder?):
what vexed her in her loveliness . . .
what weight, what crushing heaviness
turned her auburn hair a frazzled gray,
and stole her youth before her day?

We might ask ourselves: did Time devour
the passion with the ravaged flower?
But here and there a smile will bloom
to light the leaden, shadowed gloom
that always seems to linger near . . .

And here we find a single tear:
it shimmers like translucent dew
and tells us Anguish touched her too,
and did not spare her for her hair's
burnt copper, or her eyes' soft hue.

Published in  Tucumcari Literary Review (the first poem in its issue)



POEMS ABOUT DAY AND NIGHT

Day, and Night (I)
by Michael R. Burch

The moon exposes syphilitic craters
and veiled by ghostly willows, palely looms,
while we who rise each day to grind a living,
dream each scented night of such perfumes
as drew us to the window, to the moonlight,
when all the earth was steeped in cobalt blue—
an eerie vase of achromatic flowers
bled silver by pale starlight, losing hue.

The night begins her waltz to waiting sunrise—
adagio, the music she now hears,
while we who in the sunlight slave for succor,
dreaming, seek communion with the spheres.
And all around the night is in crescendo,
and everywhere the stars’ bright legions form,
and here we hear the sweet incriminations
of lovers we had once to keep us warm.

And also here we find, like bled carnations,
red lips that whitened, kisses drawn to lies,
that touched us once with fierce incantations
and taught us love was prettier than wise.



Day, and Night (II)
by Michael R. Burch

The moon exposes pockmarked scars of craters;
her visage, veiled by willows, palely looms.
And we who rise each day to grind a living,
dream each scented night of such perfumes
as drew us to the window, to the moonlight,
when all the earth was steeped in cobalt blue—
an eerie vase of achromatic flowers
bled silver by pale starlight, losing hue.
The night begins her waltz to waiting sunrise—
adagio, the music she now hears;
and we who in the sunlight slave for succor,
dreaming, seek communion with the spheres.
And all around the night is in crescendo,
and everywhere the stars’ bright legions form,
and here we hear the sweet incriminations
of lovers we had once to keep us warm.
And also here we find, like bled carnations,
red lips that whitened, kisses drawn to lies,
that touched us once with fierce incantations
and taught us love was prettier than wise.



POEMS ABOUT ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND ANN RUTLEDGE

Ann Rutledge’s grave marker in Petersburg, Illinois, contains a poem written by Edgar Lee Masters in which she is “Beloved of Abraham Lincoln, / Wedded to him, not through union, / But through separation.”

Ann Rutledge’s Irregular Quilt
by Michael R. Burch

based on “Lincoln the Unknown” by Dale Carnegie

I.
Her fingers “plied the needle” with “unusual swiftness and art”
till Abe knelt down beside her: then her demoralized heart
set Eros’s dart a-quiver; thus a crazy quilt emerged:
strange stitches all a-kilter, all patterns lost. (Her host
kept her vicarious laughter barely submerged.)

II.
Years later she’d show off the quilt with its uncertain stitches
as evidence love undermines men’s plans and women’s strictures
(and a plethora of scriptures.)

III.
But O the sacred tenderness Ann’s reckless stitch contains
and all the world’s felicities: rich cloth, for love’s fine gains,
for sweethearts’ tremulous fingers and their bright, uncertain vows
and all love’s blithe, erratic hopes (like now’s).

IV.
Years later on a pilgrimage, by tenderness obsessed,
Dale Carnegie, drawn to her grave, found weeds in her place of rest
and mowed them back, revealing the spot of the Railsplitter’s joy and grief
(and his hope and his disbelief).

V.
Yes, such is the tenderness of love, and such are its disappointments.
Love is a book of rhapsodic poems. Love is an grab bag of ointments.
Love is the finger poised, the smile, the Question — perhaps the Answer?
Love is the pain of betrayal, the two left feet of the dancer.

VI.
There were ladies of ill repute in his past. Or so he thought. Was it true?
And yet he loved them, Ann (sweet Ann!), as tenderly as he loved you.



Winter Thoughts of Ann Rutledge
by Michael R. Burch

Winter was not easy,
nor would the spring return.
I knew you by your absence,
as men are wont to burn
with strange indwelling fire —
such longings you inspire!

But winter was not easy,
nor would the sun relent
from sculpting ****** images
and how could I repent?
I left quaint offerings in the snow,
more maiden than I care to know.



RISQUE LIMERICKS

Dee Lite Full
by Michael R. Burch

A cross-dressing dancer, “Dee Lite,”
wore gowns luciferously bright
till he washed them one day
the old-fashioned way ...
in bleach. Now he’s “Sister Off-White.”



The ****** Ender Blender
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a bubbly bartender,
a transvestite who went on a ******.
“So I cut myself off,”
she cried with a sob,
“There’s the evidence, there in the blender!”

KEYWORDS/TAGS: Takaha Shugyo, haiku translations, tanka translations, Robert Burns, Dante, modern English translations
Paul Hardwick Aug 2019
hold your own heart
tale care
you will need it
love it its you after all
look for the colours in words
hold yourself first here on a page
your own hands
spell me than kari on spell anything
then you will become one of us
know what is
what was
then you are the man
Dal90 May 2020
The grass is always greener
That’s why I tore you apart
Copy and pasted the things I liked
Discarded the rest
Then put them into someone better
Until I realised my lack of hindsight
Accentuated the one glaring downside
The grass is never greener is it?!
I’ll learn for next time, I swear

As soon as my head hits the pillow, I burst into tears
Recalling the moment you walked away from me the first time
And brought to life my greatest fears
I was scared you were going to do the same again
That’s why I got in first, without taking the time to think
And now I have to live by another stupid mistake

Can you please give me one more chance,
To right the wrongs I’ve been living for so long?
I can change, I can change, I can change
I’m done telling all those lies
The ones that put your mind at ease but never fully satisfied
Please say something? like you believe me?
Please say something? like you still love me?
And then, maybe, we can go from there?

I’ll admit
I should’ve taken mum’s advice
She said you were wife material but that was immaterial
To someone who likes to Hara-kiri just for the fun of it
Watching on as you permeate the emphasis
Of how I cut you in two and crumbled to bits
How ironic
Safana Jul 2023
Matakin nasara hakuri.
matakin mutuwa kakari.
Matakin tauna hakori.
abin yin faskare ne gatari.
Kowa yana gudun hatsari.
Uwa da yaya sai bari bari.
Mara wanka kullum sai kari.
A cinye gona sai fari.
Yabanya Allah ya fishheki fari.
Vin Tho Jul 2018
Ouch!
That really hurt
Never thought it would be quite so curt
Urgh!
A raw open wound
Remnant of a place that once bloomed
Tsst!
Sting of my pride
Healing that leaves it empty inside

Was the pain that bad?
Are you really mad?

Grr...
A twisting rage
Driving me towards my own cage
...rrr...
It's all your fault
For leaving me as cold as the city asphalt
...rrr
Im the one that broke
Blinding the light from which my heart spoke

Im sorry
For my words that led to Hari Kari

Sniff
Why did I do you wrong?
Voicing my thoughts loud as a gong
Sniff
Hate that cuts me
Was the only sight you were allowed to see
Sniff
Thank you, for the love you gave
For this fool, this ****, this degenerate knave

The worst part is the emptiness, not the pain. Because at least pain kept you in my heart. The silence just means you're gone.
JoJo Nguyen Jul 14
I luv strange sirens
lying At pond's bottom
Li many dead knights
cavalier in dance
over della nd valley morte
gas lit by their owned
intellectual noodles

We lie cold like soba or revenge

It will not be televised

the fusion,
Inverted Schmooing
A Mounting Inner Flame
A dance Meeting with Spirits
till the Dawn's early light

the Racing,
fast Noonward
2 dead lines scripted for a James Joyce
Netflix special late night

Like Bugz Vital Transformation
Like The Dances with Maya
Hey Jo. You know. You know.
Yawning in Awakening
like Kate or Kim or Kari or Karen or

2 Chopin's Nocturne
in repeating rhyming

5 patterns

— The End —