"submitted" poems
Every atom is lenient towards the human being
streaming up from the deep root they spur
laying down the perfect descending of the stars.
They can take on the stellar in their deep club
that shows up opening the windows up in the sky
and down on to the earth cast their eyes!
The slim fit sharp atom knows all the shortcuts
constantly vibrating not a single star can catch nor will it ever
thin out – it has the extraordinary stroke of luck.
But the eyes are on the humans not over the amber.
Dreaming to be physically absorbed within the human being
to be in the human’s divine proportion ever transcendental
a far cry from the sun and the moon but with it both gel together!
Once they came so close almost touched the dream
they rose to the occasion, squaring the circle,
laser scanning through, as above so below, so humble.
Submitted them without waxing lyrical took the brush off
the colour bowl of the day then blindfolding the moon
in the night reached out to the paragon of the phi mania,
flawlessly made to measure, numerically perfect Fathima!
Presented themselves before her as pure blank
whereon she can jot like her chalkboard
or do as she please like she could show up
taking it as her shadow in silhouette, she exactly did that.
Touched down on the earth, in the veil
and revealed her as above so below.
The ocean moved stirred the water but none saw the sunshine
behind the full moon in bloom that steals the starry night.
Day in day out Fathima did all in a veil she lived and gone.
Keeping the atom on its toe ever honing tracing the footprint
in its own shadow as once a human being without a mark
crept in it lived in pi magic and leaped out!
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 10:53 PM UTC
I have been in skin of wolf all my kitten life
Your sister is getting an attack, help her surrender
Your ****** is bleeding
Save the world red
Unite the blood of Eve and perform monthly
have daily routine of keeping melanated to the cleanest groom
oil your crown
oil your skin
wash your bedding
do your thing
have it your way
you are royal
you are royal
bow your head
give thanks
and conquer
I have been in the skin of wolf all my kitten life
never little
never naïve
never broken
a shapeshifting ******
with eyes of enchanting love and paws that hold power
of goddesses and queens before I
spoke myself into reality
wrapped with stars on my spine and the moon and mars as my eyes
I have always seen the wolf inside my kitten skin all my life
wrapped in grace some call it woman
wrapped in mastery some call god
allah
Adonai
Mother Mary
Anetha
Medunsa
surrendered to love,
fully submitted into intuition.
I am every. I am all.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 5:38 AM UTC
They're all telling you to be strong,
when we're all hurting.
You see, I'm not the type of girl that just accepts sadness,
I'm the type of girl that wants to overcome it.
I want to honor the God who created me,
and try to be brave.
But oh, how hard life can be sometimes.
The expectations they hold,
sometimes it feels like they're asking for perfection.
I try so hard,
oh so hard.
How hard it is to be brave.
Because when the hurt we recieve,
we show it in return.
We've hurt ourselves by hurting others.
What would it be like to be loved by someone in the most perfect way?
We're all so capable of it.
But so many of us have been hurt,
we've forgotten how to be brave.
We've ignored it, and submitted to what every other person has done.
You see, I don't think it's because we don't want to be brave.
I feel like we don't know how to.
We don't know how to make our fake smiles into genuine smiles even on the worst days.
We don't know how to look at a horrible situation and realize how God might be saving us from something even harder.
We can't look at the people who have hurt us and be able to forgive them.
You see, bravery isn't just an act of heroism.
It's the unimaginable.
The act of love,
Putting others first.
We've forgotten how to be brave.
Let's be brave.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
Long lost time stretches blacked out questions and
white
in the place where it should have been
A triple threat of time, continuation, and displaced memories
Backtrack
Slapped back into the
black again
I know it's a sin but I ******* love it
Push it, shove it down, choke on the smoke and the fumes of the ancient
Wisdom is the loss of purity
Awakened
Ravaged
Blended back into the swirling twirling Universes, such perverse pleasure in the pain of it all
I love to fall
The wind in your face, blend it with a trace of sweat and blood as it all
clicks
into
place.
I love the taste
Blasphemous and decadent, giving in and giving out to **** it all back in again
RISE and FALL
I grin a bladed smile all the while, never minding the cries
Such pleasure as it dies
All taint of purity reviled
Desecrate the sacred, mutilate this inviolate aspect of creation
Only a seed of destruction contained within the potential
I see and I lust and I take and I ****
Not a drop of precious life spilled
Without cause
The laws remain, rise and fall, rise and fall,
I saw it all and then I sought a call of FLAW
For in the impurity lies perfection
An insecure dissection speaks the truth
As I now lie and speak to thee uncouth
I regret the best was yet to be
Blinded stumbling through Infinity
....just let it be.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
A mirror.
Reflect, unconditionally, the glory of all
But never radiate one's own splendor
A shell.
Provider, protector
Submitted to the furies; ever a refuge, never a refugee
A utensil.
Mere instrument, to be used and used
With no other use
A shoe.
Worn in and around
And replaced when the toll is apparent
A secret.
Put it out there, do
But keep knowledgeable to a close few
A kettle.
Boiling away on someone's behalf
Soon to be dismissed as a maker of shrill screams and hot air
A woman.
Charitable to inane ideals
When all that defines her is contrary
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 12:42 AM UTC
This poem has been submitted for possible publication. It will be reposted as soon as possible upon final determination. Please feel free to peruse my poesy at your leisure.
Thank you so much,
PrttyBrd
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
Beauty pageant queen
Had a sad, sad life
All her mother wanted
Was to live vicariously
Through a beautiful daughter
All her daughter wanted
Was a mother who loved her for who she was
And didn't care that she was lesbian
But her mother beat her until she submitted
Her will and her life
With words and insults
Thrown as spears into the heart of the innocent child
The beauty pageant queen walked the steps confidently
Ready to reap the greatest reward she had never known:
Freedom
And as her mother read the note
And as her feet swung inches from her mother's grieving head
And as the coroner's men came and took her away
And as the nation was thrown into an uproar over a woman they never knew
And as the people in the streets pointed fingers and called the queen a *****
And as her father heard the news in his second house with his new wife
And as the homeless man she was kind to on the corner took his grubby hat off in mourning
And as the press went wild and blew everything out of proportion and dehumanized her pain
The queen didn't care because she was free from the world
Because she was away from the pain
Because she was exposed for what she was
Because she was dead
And she didn't much care about anything
Not anymore
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 11:41 PM UTC
the mathematical statement in fluid mechanics that, for a fluid passing through a tube in a steady flow, the mass flowing through any section of the tube in a unit of time is constant
instantaneous our love defined,
a fluid mechanic in the realm of ethereal,
where unlimited immeasurable undefinable
mass time flow sweat pulse anger forgive caress kind
quantifiable terms of our equation unique
in this poem
no waxing poetic,
excellent pure licked lips
are quantums and quarks visualized
though invisible the flow constant per unit of time from
initial good morning kiss to intemperate
indulgent good night conclusions
submitted here for your
analytical digression importuned
the square root of the continuity equation's solution
is
.......
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 9:24 AM UTC
I shouldn't have
let you get so close,
let you pierce me with your eyes,
let you own me.
I shouldn't have.
I shouldn't have
been so naive,
been so blind to your intentions,
believed you meant well.
I shouldn't have.
I shouldn't have
submitted to your sin,
the stain I now must bear,
I will not wash clean.
I shouldn't have.
I shouldn't have
ignored what they said,
they were right.
I should have seen
the vicegrip that you claimed as love
was around my neck
and not my heart.
I should have!
I should have
left long before I
made so many mistakes,
decisions can't be undone.
I should have.
I should have.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC
Below are eleven Buson haiku
beginning with the phrase
'The short night--'
The short night--
on the hairy caterpillar
beads of dew.
The short night--
patrolmen
washing in the river.
The short night--
bubbles of crab froth
among the river reeds.
The short night--
a broom thrown away
on the beach.
The short night--
the Oi River
has sunk two feet.
The short night--
on the outskirts of the village
a small shop opening.
The short night--
broken, in the shallows,
a crescent moon.
The short night--
the peony
has opened.
The short night--
waves beating in,
an abandoned fire.
The short night--
near the pillow
a screen turning silver.
The short night--
shallow footprints
on the beach at Yui.
User Submitted "The short night--" Haiku
Submit your own haiku beginning with the line
"The short night--"
and we'll post the best ones below!
Just dash off an e-mail to:
[email protected]
The short night-
a watery moon
stands alone over the hill
Maggie
The short night--
just as I'm falling asleep
my wife's waking up
Larry Bole
3.4k
A fire's burning somewhere in the darkness.
I once sat in its light, but was drawn away
as swiftly as a shadow flees the sun.
I remember the flames dancing, burning,
turning dead wood into gold before my eyes,
the sparks jumping and zigzagging into the sky
like so many souls ascending to heaven,
wishing,
for once,
to be the stars they once gazed upon,
and wondering if maybe,
just maybe,
they could be remembered.
If they could shine upon the earth forever,
living as reflections in the eyes of those soon to join them.
Crackling into the night,
holding the darkness at bay just a little while longer,
shielding the hearts around it from their own shadows.
I don't know if it's still burning,
or if it has already submitted to the darkness,
as all fires do eventually.
But I will remember them, those flames,
burning as a last defiance to the darkness.
And to those souls in waiting,
I hope for you safe travel.
Oct 24, 2011
Oct 24, 2011 at 1:04 AM UTC
Without legitimate occupancy,
Adverse possession is the legal right
Of anyone who moves in and maintains
A property, so here's the deal. We must
Move in to 1600 Penn,
The current tenant having broke the lease.
The caravan from Guatemala first, Hondurans trudging slowly from the depth.
Then the Yemen children not yet murdered,
Those with preexisting conditions next,
And women whose assaults were ridiculed,
Those roughed up by cops and politicians.
Losers in the war on drugs, the big house
Having far exceeded capacity.
The mentally ill, discarded by the
Great communicator after he tore
The Solar panels off the roof. This is
Anger, not poetic license. When a
Long train of abuses and usurpations
Evinces a design to reduce them
Under absolute Despotism, it
Is their right, it is their duty to throw
Off such Government, and to provide new
Guards for their future security. Such
Has been the patient sufferance of these
And such is now the necessity which
Constrains them to alter their systems of
Government. And journalists under fire,
If there's room still left in the briefing room,
Let facts be submitted to a candid
World.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
Words mean a lot, though miss used a lot
And so I thought why not, type-out my thoughts
At the age of twenty, I fought a lot and I lost
Submitted to reality, thanks to life for this munity
I quarrel with this world to find my golden state, but
Even in the golden age, this imperfect being still remains
Yes I grow with age, learn from my mistakes
Expelling all the weeds, growing and suffocating this angelic
Creation
So when I wake-up,
stare at mirror, moisture my skin with perfumed lotion
With the attempt to adorn this temple...
Close to Goodness yet far from purity
at times I may be white, till my robe is painted with mud
I'm only human, and yes I fall, but get back up
This life is rough, behind the smiles and all the love
Remain deep scars, this life is tough, but I still laugh
Endure the harsh times, and all the storms
If I be iron this structure would be corroded
Filled with rust, burying, who I really am All my imperfections, lust lack of trust, sometimes lack of love, and all the scars can taint my soul
Flawless Imperfectionist
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 9:09 AM UTC
The affair was inevitable
A treacherous triangle
The Daisy, the Sun, and the Moon
appearing as distinct doom
From the Sun, the Daisy bloomed
Though at dusk the Daisy felt gloom
Finding the Moon at its darkest hour,
beloved feelings grew within this flower.
To the Sun, the Daisy was committed,
But to the Moon the Daisy submitted.
The Moon brought light to the dark
Owing an absent Sun, became the new spark.
Fearing the furious flames of the Sun
The Daisy wouldn't shed light
upon the affair
frightful of the brightest one
Now, the Sun and Moon caught intertwined
within the same vine, and in due time
the Daisy's guilt was uprising
It was to choose but both were enticing
The provider vs. the temptation
The brightest star vs. The subtle sight
Fierce force of energy vs. Cool, calm and collect
First love versus A new feel
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 11:59 PM UTC
Alike to Twin Minds with Hands and Feet possess
Perform their own Stage and make a Good Score
With such Lyrics does their Rhythm address
Defined in the Air; As once did before
Which, in some Ardent but Doubtful Degree
Would deny the Advice handed down in Print
Since they are a Pair submitted to Belief
That to answer those Charges was far too Mint
Much for their Lifted Chins to Cower in Shame
Knowing the Goals they defer would spell their End
But why would they Work so much for a Name
When in Wrinkles are their Numbered Values spent?
There is Reason why the Pool is cleaned Within
To drain-in the Lust; To blue-out the Sin.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 9:17 PM UTC
We set out to honor Mary
traveling the pilgrim's path from west to east
We walked, we rode the bus
entertained and enchanted by Cristina
applauding Ramon along the way.
Each day was one of prayer and song, sunshine and fellowship
rosaries and novena
we submitted petitions to Santiago
we laughed with San Serapio
From the grand and magnificent cathedrals
to the humblest village chapel
we grew in faith, hearing God's word in many languages.
We marveled at the dedication and stamina of the pilgrims
making their way on foot and bicycle
at the warmth, generosity, and hospitality
they receive along the way
We picknicked alongside mountain streams
enjoying good food, good wine,and good friendship
we walked down the hillsides in the hot sunshine
passing the pilgrims going the opposite way
we quenched our thirst in a quaint and rustic village tavern.
Ramon drove with skill up the mountains to Garabandal
a remote village suspended in time and beauty
there on the mountain top we sat among the pines
where Mary had appeared.
We sat in silence, in awe and reverence
the only sounds, the whisper of the breeze and the cowbells on the hillside
We prayed the rosary
It was, for most of us, a most special memory
From our bus we looked out at the mountains
the green and rolling farmland
at the rocky Atlantic coast
at the rios and the rias.
We walked in procession at Fatima and Lourdes
by candlelight and moonlight
and again in the brilliant sunshine
The voices and the church bells
carried across the plazas
enveloping us in joy and prayer and mysticism
It was at the grotto at Lourdes
with my hands pressed on the rocky cave wall
with the holy water on my hands
that I felt Mary's presence
Mary, my mother, my sister, my friend
AVE MARIA
September, 2008
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 8:52 PM UTC
The smoker
I bought some rare cigars;
had them insured against fire
And by three months later
I’d lost them all
in a series of small fires
But the ****** insurance company
wouldn’t pay
so I sued them
The judge
I’ve looked at all the evidence
and I accept the cigars had been
indeed destroyed
by a “series of small fires”
and so I order
the company to pay the insured
the sum of $15 000
The insurance company
We paid - we didn’t
want a prolonged legal case;
but now we are taking the client
to court
as it’s clear through
the very evidence he submitted
he caused the “series of small fires”
The judge
I find the insurance
company’s former client
guilty of arson;
and furthermore I order that
the man serve prison
a year each for each count
and so, to make it clear,
to see past all the smoke:
that’s 24 years in jail for arson
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 8:50 PM UTC
He looked at me with luscious
devious eyes so, I winked asked
him did he want some action; his
look was of a fatal attraction and
his mind locked me in ******* his
eyes denuded my flesh as he suckled
my breast, I coiled in pleasured duress
He licked his lips as I submitted to his
lustful toying, moans acknowledge my
attraction to his lascivious actions and he
salivated ensnaring nakedness in roped
interaction
As his appetizing admonishment began;
I wickedly grinned and to his chagrin;
tightened my bonds, splayed cheeks
coaxing me to seep as his tongue licked
in calculated dips and I shuddered in
satisfaction with each sip
Wet lips began to quiver; each taunt
delivered, hands slid behind back with another
toy he attacked, eight inches long in & out, I began to
sing a song as pleasure surged, wracking my body;
begging for more each time its full measure dipped
into my treasure
I looked up as he turned me over dripping wet,
I smiled, winked again with another wicked grin,
fore, he had no idea what he'd gotten into; he tied
up the wrong nymph, thought I was just a sweet
kitten; had him smitten after gettin' a taste, as if,
he'd lost his mitten playing with this sultry kitten
Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 4:50 AM UTC
hymn to Apollo
by Michael R. Burch
something of sunshine attracted my i
as it lazed on the afternoon sky,
golden, splashed on the easel of god;
what, i thought,
could this elfin stuff be,
to, phantomlike, flit
through tall trees
on fall days, such as these?
and the breeze
whispered a dirge
to the vanishing light;
enchoired with the evening, it sang;
its voice enchantedly rang
chanting “Night!” . . .
till all the bright light
retired,
expired.
This poem appeared in my high school literary journal, the Lantern, so it was written by age 18, but probably around age 16 or 17. That was my "cummings" period. Keywords/Tags: sun, god, sunshine, Apollo, elfin, phantom, ghostly, magical, enchanted, bright, light, brilliant, sky, golden
Moon Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Starlit recorder of summer nights,
what magic spell bewitches you?
They say that all lovers love first in the dark...
Is it true?
Is it true?
Is it true?
Starry-eyed seer of all that appears
and all that has appeared—
What sights have you seen?
What dreams have you dreamed?
What rhetoric have you heard?
Is love an oration,
or is it a word?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
I believe I wrote this poem in my late teens, during my “Romantic Period.”
Tomb Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Go down to the valley
where mockingbirds cry,
alone, ever lonely . . .
yes, go down to die.
And dream in your dying
you never shall wake.
Go down to the valley;
go down to Tomb Lake.
Tomb Lake is a cauldron
of souls such as yours —
mad souls without meaning,
frail souls without force.
Tomb Lake is a graveyard
reserved for the dead.
They lie in her shallows
and sleep in her bed.
I believe this poem and "Moon Lake" were companion poems, written around my senior year in high school, in 1976. In addition to having similar titles, they had similar "staircase" indention styles. According to my notes, I modified "Moon Lake" two years later in 1978, at which time the poem was substantially finished. I then modified "Tomb Lake" in 1981, but must have forgotten about it, because I don't show that I ever submitted the poem for publication or did anything with it for more than 40 years. Keywords/Tags: Moon, Lake, Lakes, Water, Reflection, Reflections, Image, Imagery, Mirror, Magic, Magician, Seer, Prophet, Shaman, Spell, Spells, Enchantment, Sorcery, Bewitchment, Bewilderment, Incantation, Rhapsody, Love Talk, Love Potion
Mar 29, 2020
Mar 29, 2020 at 4:20 AM UTC
O Thou, the Nymph with placid eye !
O seldom found, yet ever nigh !
Receive my temperate vow :
Not all the storms that shake the pole
Can e'er disturb thy halcyon soul,
And smooth unalter'd brow.
O come, in simplst vest array'd,
With all thy sober cheer display'd
To bless my longing sight ;
Thy mien compos'd, thy even pace,
Thy meek regard, thy matron grace,
And chaste subdued delight.
No more by varying passions beat,
O gently guide my pilgrim feet
To find thy hermit cell ;
Where in some pure and equal sky
Beneath thy soft indulgent eye
Thy modest virtues dwell.
Simplicity in Attic vest,
And Innocence with candid breast,
And clear undaunted eye ;
And Hope, who points to distant years,
Fair opening through this vale of tears
A vista to the sky.
There Health, thro' whose calm ***** glide
The temperate joys in even tide,
That rarely ebb or flow ;
And Patience there, thy sister meek,
Presents her mild, unvarying cheek
To meet the offer'd blow.
Her influence taught the Phrygian sage
A tyrant master's wanton rage
With settled smiles to meet ;
Inur'd to toil and bitter bread
He bow'd his meek submitted head,
And kiss'd thy sainted feet.
But thou, oh Nymph retir'd and coy !
In what brown hamlet dost thou joy
To tell thy simple tale ;
The lowliest children of the ground,
Moss rose, and violet, blossom round,
And lily of the vale.
O say what soft propitious hour
I best may chuse to hail thy power,
And court thy gentle sway ?
When Autumn, friendly to the Muse,
Shall thy own modest tints diffuse,
And shed thy milder day.
When Eve, her dewy star beneath,
Thy balmy spirit loves to breathe,
And every storm is laid ;
If such an hour was e'er thy choice,
Oft let me hear thy soothing voice
Low whispering thro' the shade.
2.1k
This poetry is one of the collections of poetry I am writing, called “Kalina” about a small girl and her world, her feelings her thoughts. ‘Butterfly’ was submitted to ‘One Stop Poetry’ for the competition “Through a Child’s Eyes” and was selected as one of the finalist. Click here to read to read the article…
I have edited this one below after submission; hence here you have the latest version
Butterfly
________
Look, there she is
There on the window pane
A new friend from the dreams last night
She promised to teach me
How to fly, where ever, whenever
In sunshine or rain
How bright and beautiful, she is
Pinker than my ma’s cheek
Her little wings have so many colors
Like the rainbow
I painted last summer, for my Pa’s Birthday
Before he left for the war,
You know, to make money for us to eat
Tell me butterfly,
How does one eat money?
How does one go to the war?
I don’t want Pa to go to the war;
I don’t want any money to eat; At all
You know, whenever I hug him,
I don’t feel hungry,
God Swear, not at all
Oh! Butterfly!!
Why are you flying away
Going so far?
See, out side, the day is still full of light;
Sure you can wait a little more?
Promise, Ma will be back soon,
From her nightshift,
And, sure she will let you in
Don’t you see, I can not;
I am in the bed,
Too sick to let you in
Butterfly, my dear Butterfly,
You really have to teach me how to fly
Before you came in my dreams
I promised Pa - a hug tonight,
I know where he “wars” now;
Ma showed me the other night,
When she cried,
“There, Kalina, there he is, in the sky
That beautiful bright Evening Star”
You know Butterfly;
I love him so much,
Much more than I love Ma,
Really!
You must teach me to fly,
As I have to go today,
Yesterday, Pa told me
Its time now
Here you see
My Ma does not even smile much
Now
___________
ॐ नमः शिवाय
Om Namah Shivaya
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 11:30 AM UTC
Moon Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Starlit recorder of summer nights,
what magic spell bewitches you?
They say that all lovers love first in the dark...
Is it true?
Is it true?
Is it true?
Starry-eyed seer of all that appears
and all that has appeared—
What sights have you seen?
What dreams have you dreamed?
What rhetoric have you heard?
Is love an oration,
or is it a word?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
I believe I wrote this poem in my late teens, during my “Romantic Period.”
Tomb Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Go down to the valley
where mockingbirds cry,
alone, ever lonely . . .
yes, go down to die.
And dream in your dying
you never shall wake.
Go down to the valley;
go down to Tomb Lake.
Tomb Lake is a cauldron
of souls such as yours —
mad souls without meaning,
frail souls without force.
Tomb Lake is a graveyard
reserved for the dead.
They lie in her shallows
and sleep in her bed.
I believe this poem and "Moon Lake" were companion poems, written around my senior year in high school, in 1976. In addition to having similar titles, they had similar "staircase" indention styles. According to my notes, I modified "Moon Lake" two years later in 1978, at which time the poem was substantially finished. I then modified "Tomb Lake" in 1981, but must have forgotten about it, because I don't show that I ever submitted the poem for publication or did anything with it for more than 40 years. Keywords/Tags: Moon, Lake, Lakes, Water, Reflection, Reflections, Image, Imagery, Mirror, Magic, Magician, Seer, Prophet, Shaman, Spell, Spells, Enchanted, Enchantment, Sorcery, Bewitchment, Bewilderment, Incantation, Rhapsody, Love Talk, Love Potion, Romance, First Love, Dark, Dreams
Feb 23, 2020
Feb 23, 2020 at 12:31 AM UTC
Circe
by Michael R. Burch
She spoke
and her words
were like a ringing echo dying
or like smoke
rising and drifting
while the earth below is spinning.
She awoke
with a cry
from a dream that had no ending,
without hope
or strength to rise,
into hopelessness descending.
And an ache
in her heart
toward that dream, retreating,
left a wake
of small waves
in circles never completing.
Originally published by Romantics Quarterly
Keywords/Tags: Circe, enigma, enigmatic, enchantress, siren, enchanted, witch, goddess, magic, Ulysses, pigs, sty
Moon Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Starlit recorder of summer nights,
what magic spell bewitches you?
They say that all lovers love first in the dark...
Is it true?
Is it true?
Is it true?
Starry-eyed seer of all that appears
and all that has appeared—
What sights have you seen?
What dreams have you dreamed?
What rhetoric have you heard?
Is love an oration,
or is it a word?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
I believe I wrote this poem in my late teens, during my “Romantic Period.”
Tomb Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Go down to the valley
where mockingbirds cry,
alone, ever lonely . . .
yes, go down to die.
And dream in your dying
you never shall wake.
Go down to the valley;
go down to Tomb Lake.
Tomb Lake is a cauldron
of souls such as yours —
mad souls without meaning,
frail souls without force.
Tomb Lake is a graveyard
reserved for the dead.
They lie in her shallows
and sleep in her bed.
I believe this poem and "Moon Lake" were companion poems, written around my senior year in high school, in 1976. In addition to having similar titles, they had similar "staircase" indention styles. According to my notes, I modified "Moon Lake" two years later in 1978, at which time the poem was substantially finished. I then modified "Tomb Lake" in 1981, but must have forgotten about it, because I don't show that I ever submitted the poem for publication or did anything with it for more than 40 years. Keywords/Tags: Moon, Lake, Lakes, Water, Reflection, Reflections, Image, Imagery, Mirror, Magic, Magician, Seer, Prophet, Shaman, Spell, Spells, Enchantment, Sorcery, Bewitchment, Bewilderment, Incantation, Rhapsody, Love Talk, Love Potion
Mar 28, 2020
Mar 28, 2020 at 4:47 AM UTC
Ones and Zeros
In the online digital world
Every boy and every girl
Are villains and heroes
Who knows which?
Son a of a *****
The truth is lies
Wrapped up in disguise
We want to believe
Electronic love we receive
Is not there to deceive
The flirting
The sexting
The online molexting
**** pic rejecting
Encrypted ascii code
Sent through internet nodes
Wireless whispers transmitted
Thoughts of endearment committed
Fact are conveniently omitted
Lies are ruthlessly submitted
Straight jacket
Packet hackers
Hijacking a loving heart
Holding it ransom is their art
Scourge of the community
Harassing
Surpassing
Any level of dignity
Players and haters
And the masturbators
The downright crazies
Acting like timid daisies
The cheaters
Defeaters
And quite possibly
Wife beaters
The losers
The boozers
Mentally abusers
The popular sexter
Who may not be a her
Quite possibly a guy
But will vehemently deny
The whiner
Data miner
The ********* seeking minor
The scammer
The Christian Damner
Super **** grammar
All thrown in together
With the digital picture collector
And still we’re looking all around
For love to be found
In a world of made believe
That anonymously deceives
We are ones seeking zeroes
Running into villains dressed up as heroes
Hearts shredded and deleted
Retreating and defeated
Yet somehow we try again
Hoping for something less than pain
We are all a little bit insane
Playing the online dating game
One’s and Zero’s
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 7:15 AM UTC
How can mortals completely envision heaven?
Exploring the fullness of what we’ll see,
will surely take many human lifetimes,
in order to take in… all things of eternity.
Whatever God has prepared for us -
conceived from infinite possibilities,
the sight of its beauty lies beyond our mental grasp,
whose description, exceeds one’s vocabulary.
What is the secret name reserved for me?
Can one take a swim in the glassy sea?
How large is the throne room of God?
How many angels and cherubs will we see?
Can we exist beyond the third dimension?
Will we be able fly through the universe?
How long will it take me to memorize all Scripture
and the subtle meanings… of each and every verse?
How many new colors, will we experience
that shine within Jehovah’s heavenly dome?
How much gold will stick to my feet,
from walking around my eternal, new home?
What are the capabilities of our immortal bodies?
How much knowledge, from our lives, will we retain?
What will my first feelings and thoughts be,
when standing before… the Lamb who was slain?
Great are the rewards of Kingdom living.
Among the redeemed, no one is viewed the fool;
His great family will be overcome with joy,
knowing that everyone submitted… to His Sovereign rule.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
1 Cor 2:9; Rom 14:17-18
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2011, All rights reserved.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 6:54 AM UTC