"wiseman" poems
I am two fools, I know—
For loving, and for saying so
In whining poetry;
But where’s that wiseman that would not be I,
If she would not deny?
Then, as th’ earths inward narrow crooked lanes
Do purge sea waters fretful salt away,
I thought, if I could draw my pains
Through rhymes vexation, I should them allay.
Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce,
For he tames it that fetters it in verse.
But when I have done so,
Some man, his art and voice to show,
Doth set and sing my pain,
And, by delighting many, frees again
Grief, which verse did restrain.
To Love and Grief tribute of verse belongs,
But not of such as pleases when ’tis read;
Both are increased by such songs,
For both their triumphs so are published;
And I, which was two fooles, do so grow three;
Who are a little wise, the best fools be.
2.9k
The Drawer of Mermaids
by Michael R. Burch
This poem is dedicated to Alina Karimova, who was born with severely deformed legs and five fingers missing. Alina loves to draw mermaids and believes her fingers will eventually grow out.
Although I am only four years old,
they say that I have an old soul.
I must have been born long, long ago,
here, where the eerie mountains glow
at night, in the Urals.
A madman named Geiger has cursed these slopes;
now, shut in at night, the emphatic ticking
fills us with dread.
(Still, my momma hopes
that I will soon walk with my new legs.)
It’s not so much legs as the fingers I miss,
drawing the mermaids under the ledges.
(Observing, Papa will kiss me
in all his distracted joy;
but why does he cry?)
And there is a boy
who whispers my name.
Then I am not lame;
for I leap, and I follow.
(G’amma brings a wiseman who says
our infirmities are ours, not God’s,
that someday a beautiful Child
will return from the stars,
and then my new fingers will grow
if only I trust Him; and so
I am preparing to meet Him, to go,
should He care to receive me.)
Keywords/Tags: mermaid, mermaids, child, children, childhood, Urals, Ural Mountains, soul, soulmate, radiation
Jan 17, 2023
Jan 17, 2023 at 2:08 AM UTC
Times are tough and tensions fierce
Nothing's rare as love
Our world is on the cusp of change
So thanks for giving up
Oh, you freshman Wiseman
Oh, sophomore sage
Thank you for sharing the wisdom
You've gained in your old age
"Our generation has failed"
You say, observer that you are
"We have nothing to take pride in
Like the generations before"
Oh, you teenage prophet
Your knowledge knows no bounds
Our generation is hopeless
Or at least that's how it sounds
In 14 years of living
It seems you have assessed
Your generation's future
And with great success
At 14 you knew equality was a pipe dream of the past
Hatred and bigotry are the only things that last
You're already too jaded for beauty or romance
Your generation failed before it even had a chance
So thanks for giving up before you can even drive a car
For quitting before you're old enough to vote or go to war
Throwing in the towel before you're allowed to drink at the bar
Waving the white flag before the battle even starts
I had dreams in my generation
We had ideas for my generation
We did things, in my generation
For things we believed would help my generation
But my generation is still very young
The battle's barely started but that means it can be won
So I can only imagine how yours must feel
If you've already given up
So thanks for the surrender, really
I'm sure it's all that could be done
Giving up must have been so much harder than
Finding something to believe in.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
Two days old, as hours foretold,
Wisdom is a gift, heartily gifted so.
Life’s greatest mysteries left to unfold,
Hourglass sand drowns the catacomb.
Time perceived through linear scopes
Shows present truths and fallacies as heard.
Elope distinctions, divorce similarities,
For the world is backward and time, reverse.
Lessons learned, reiterate the word,
Responsibility, the key to community.
Prosper, live long,
Disease is only deadly when extinct is the immunity.
Freely versed, lyrically rehearsed,
Speaking from the heart blends emotion at the worst
With flint and tinder
Striking up fire, but always a spark first.
Apr 11, 2011
Apr 11, 2011 at 2:56 PM UTC
A flatulent king sits
Slouching, scratching,
Congealing to his throne of gold.
His army of a billion men
Are clad in ****** bibs
And grins.
Equipped with hate
And hollow eyes
They stand redily assembled.
The king is a miser.
His face is a lie.
His motives are equally clear.
Royal subjects within the walls
Respect only of weakness and fear.
They are taxed and harassed.
For knowledge they're knived.
The wisest of Wiseman
Are forced to take bribes.
Their children are taken and
Hidden away
At the mechanized dawn
That announces each day
To learn to be
Ruthless and cruel.
To take advantage of fools.
Greed and malice are tools to be used
At their s and m brainwashing schools.
So their eyes turn jade
And their words turn black
As they cut up their hands
Stabbing themselves in the back.
They're just being taught
How to buy and be bought.
To serve the king;
A gear in his machine.
The ones who concede,
Buy into the greed
But their weakening teeth snap!
One by one
As they go round the vicious circle.
So they end up
Defunct,
Sunken eyed.
They dangle their
Dot spangled
Hands at their sides.
And although they loose,
Somehow they win.
They end up running
The world we live in.
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 4:52 AM UTC
TV’s going in living room
Talking about our doom
We’re laying on the front lawn
Yesterday’s long gone
Woman showing skin
Too fat, too thin
She can never win
Throwing up yet again
Listen up man
We’re all ******
Re-repeating reprimands
Demolition on demand
Locate security
Trying to make camp
In independent infidelity
Strutting to the bank
Cashing in corrupted currency
Stock markets sank
Guitar man teary eyed
Rock and roll came and died
Record producer’s big old lies
Broken dreams and wasted time
Colorado Smokey Joe lights a bone
Faded out to the ozone
Smoking on home grown
Got glaucoma? Get an O
Shut up dude
We’re all *******
Forget the olden days
Give marriage to the gays
Let go of the narrow minded silly ways
Let it be as common as classic Frito-Lays
Rolling in the new waves
Is it God who really saves?
Is there even one big deity?
Guess there is if you believe
Be born, live life
Go to college, get a wife
Get job, sacrifice
It’s the norm, is it right?
Have a kid, then have another
Father, mother
Sister, brother
Try to tolerate each other
Watch your back bro
Because I don’t know
Undecided, undeclared
Run in circles, running scared
Take a risk, double dare
Love needs to be redefined
Unanimously agreed and signed
Peace in the heart and the mind
Going down the rabbit hole
Striving for that same goal
Anti- bullying campaign
Kid comes home blood stained
Toughen up
Enough's enough
Individuality
Opposing mainstream reality
Wiseman taken as a fool
Becomes another social causality
Feel it
Taste it
On the back of your tongue
Hanging by the gallows martyrs hung
Climbing up the ladder’s rungs
Foul smelling whiskey bums
Grab a *** and stash it
Looking like your bat ****
Steal a car and crash it
“Always wash your berries before you eat them and fly toward the sun”
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC
he missed the days when he could sit down and relax
a paradox
a parallax
the stories of youth and tales of old
the nights of flame and soot and coals
colors blurred and faces too
he needs a way to get him through
the night is his home but the day is too long
so he spreads his worth till the yawn of dawn
and he gets by because he needs to
he's gotta prove them wrong
a soul who has been flushed
but the drain is clogged
they would have let him go
but hearts are softer now then ever before
travis was a wise man who got caught up in the feel
now *** and mary j replace his every meal
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 12:17 AM UTC
and enough of this endless restless nesting fetish.
Incomplete sentences stammered by the breathless
Full of obscure references overtested by the bested . . .
forget to forget the last failure from my past and we'd run rampant and ram horns again but a circle won't fit with a square
no matter how many times you test it . . .
speak money speak *** speak respect;
you can't buy any with either or neither
but try please to succeed
and we'll watch your world crumble
Man never stops learning though unconcerned but acts concerning.
Playing the role of the wiseman the fool gives false advice
spreading vices to mice who won't stand for what's right
To be said **** the fools,
but you must protect them from what we don't know
but you'll never respect them
and you find by and by that by mingling with monsters
you're no longer a savior no longer a martyr
but instead you're so dead that you're following
following
and now like the rest you
falling
dropped
to the bottom.
Clear my mind with bleach
be my teacher, no my preacher
The need for meter seems to have defeated my reason,
unwanted, it seems, perhaps even defeated.
I often wonder how the world sees the world, I long for new perspective. The world seems unyielding, unwanting.
I am born to pry at why we are born to die; born to forever wonder why.
And why?
Answer ever answer. And forever wondering why I can never take chances. I'm often to wrought with distractions to advance.
Why did they refuse to give her a chance?
Why did she refuse to give him a chance?
Someone must've written this story in advance.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
My mind is full of questions
Questions that questions a lot of those questions even after they are done having me questioned
A lot of questions running through my mind till am feeling my state of mind is becoming questionable
Am I a fool called Wise or a wiseman who has just been fooled cos he thought his mind is full of wisdom while it is otherwise?
Still a lot of questions
Questions questioning some people's actions cos it seems my trust is now being questioned
But who said I can't be trusted?
If so, why put in my trust something which is in your trust but turn around to doubt my trust?
You asked how do I know?
No, why won't I know while I've got the spiritual nose to know this things long before it is physically known?
Still questions
Questions surfacing even while I write cos some parts I still wonder if they will be read right or if it is even right for me to have them written?
But why care about whether it is read right or wrong when I have the right to write what I wish to write?
Questions on what to title this piece with but my mind is not at peace with this questions so I won't give credit to questions till maybe when am totally at peace
So don't ask me why not "questions" but "state of mind", cos state of mind it is for now as that is my state of mind
Sep 22, 2022
Sep 22, 2022 at 9:18 AM UTC
Everyone wants to be a revolutionary,
a hero, a martyr, or more.
Empty minds seeking an empty prize,
of fame and boundless glory.
Everyone wants to be a wiseman,
without searching for the wisdom.
Everyone wants to break free,
from their phony societal prison.
Everyone wants to be loaded,
without having to earn the dough.
A tax or two will surely do,
those ***** capitalists will eat crow!
Everyone wants to change the world,
without having to change themselves.
Everyone wants everything,
except to be ourselves.
Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 1:16 PM UTC
A dictionary in a bag of bricks.
I watch it sink down the swamp.
Words only mean what we do with them after,
So I never feast until I know there's dessert coming.
I am the stone before the statue.
A block of possibility.
Waiting for guidance like a wiseman,
From anyone that can convince me we're not all mad for trying.
I am the stone before the statue.
Waiting to be carved.
Waiting to be told who I am.
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 4:27 AM UTC
a calling of a midnight, thou art slavery to lust,aim and shame, the long lost hour though thee captive heart never berg, with no intent to oppose,thou wish,praise,give to my joy mistress, though art never complaint, shout nor renounce the silence, a castle king only not my mistress approve, time, patience and affort bind us not, swing to sing my mistress lovers song, that decode amuse to remote everyone not only my mistress approval, limited to no amount of belief,faith and hope,with no less to rest my worst, thou art mute,absent or silence pure believers to be enslaved, admit,hour,reality and goodness of bravery nor wisdom answers ,though wiseman canst bear slavery to faith and hope, only fate my mate to bate
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 8:02 AM UTC
This empty page has potential like me,
To write the lines that tell a horrible tale
Or to depict the dark scene of the graphite terror
This empty page has no emotion
Which will I give it?
Which will show?
I'm no artist nor poet,
But a simple being who brings life onto this lonely page
This empty page is transparent as can be
The secrets I'll hide within the words and ink
The words I'll never speak, but cloak beneath the veil of lines and charcoal
This empty page is a fresh start,
Not yet stained with the mistakes of life,
No smudges nor failed words scar the white
I'm no wiseman, just a simple boy
Yet the dark on the page shock those around;
Makes them question what could've brought the black
This empty page is nothing but a story
With each one completed, another chapter is written
It's a story of the past frozen in the present
This empty page will be my legacy,
The greatness that it can be, awaits its creator to pour his soul
To fill the void with his damaged heart
And to show the scars he tries to hide
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
We all claim that we have friends
Who loves us
we tell and share all our secrets with
We share our tear and joy with them
A Wiseman once said
"your best friend is your second
Enemy"
go on tell them you secrets and
They'll advice you well they busy
Laughing you at your back
They will leave you naked like a
Heartless snake and turn there back on you
*give your friend respect not you heart
Give them your time but not not you soul
Tell them stories but not your secrets*
give you heart and soul to God
Tell Him your secrets He won't tell anyone
Make God your first friend
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
I met a figure
of darkened glamor
he told me to look
inward
the introvert
has a power
the silent
observer
treasures present themselves
and reveal
their shining
location
mapped out
and planned
a trajectory
well
calculated
find this energy
of peaceable
conscious
and take heart
when the music
stops
the precipice
of genesis
a growth
into
new
creation
and more channeled
vibration
May 12, 2023
May 12, 2023 at 10:27 AM UTC
Can you ever really make up sleep that you've lost,
Can your mind settle when your health is the cost?
When she tells you she cares and a moment you pause,
but her actions are damning; they paint a lost cause.
A wiseman once said for the highest of highs
Are the lowest of lows when the fireworks die.
Must we be young and stupid, if to ever be wise,
Or know the truth in her words, if we've never heard lies?
Will men always pay for the damages brought,
by boys making choices without second thoughts?
Will she always abandon in search of adventure,
Morales, and manners; replace values with anger?
Am I not a man if I act out of fear,
but to feel naive when I look in the mirror?
There isn't a path the truth will not alter,
Not a shadow is found in the final hours.
As the fireworks end, the colors will taper,
Answers lie in the ashes and die with the cinders.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 1:38 AM UTC
Better than yesterday but worse than tomorrow
Live in a present Way, there's no time to borrow
My restless soul is a pyro, lighting internal fires
Scattered mind won't let go,slashing all his tires
Stuck in muck,I need a tow,safe from the mires
I Give no fuck,money to blow, chase all desires
What does it mean, to stay right in between
That happy median,defined by a Wikipedian
That mythological goal to balance in the middle
Nicholas' locked Cage, pursue the fateful riddle
Mind's almost full,fresh ideas hot off the griddle
Time to turn the page, but thumbs will twiddle
I felt like I couldn't breathe, nor could I hear
My heart prone to seethe,headlights to a deer
Finally My eyes are open and my head is clear
No more doubt or moping, there's no more fear
So proceed with caution a wiseman forewarns
Beware of the female fury, hell hath and scorns
But let love rule you, like a squirrel loves acorns
Embrace the wild ride and grab the bull's horns
See you are free to choose,write your own story
All we have is a life to lose,in all it's fragile glory
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 5:20 PM UTC
May my words be glorious
Victorious
Infintisimal
May they be a glitch in the matrix
Seen before
Done before
When it's the first time you hear
May they be the wings of angels
The hands of devils
The non committal
The ever lasting truth
And always
Let all of my words speak to you
In a way you never knew
Let them show deeper meaning
Profundity of feeling
May my words be shouted from a pulpit
Or whispered from a pit
May they be everything
Both fools gold
And wiseman's lesson
An image you see in your mind
The beauty of mankind
And the torture that comes from living
A painting in black and white
With no canvas
And space and shape
Are only sound
Of my words read aloud
May my words be the footfalls
Of a sanguine traveler
A despondent wanderer
Let my words find their home
That they may win or lose
Or be whatever you choose
Let them find you
May my words reach you
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 11:45 PM UTC
Am I doing this right?
Do we punctuate in slow motion or should we scream with no meaning behind crystal words?
And how do we define good from great?
If we dream it, can we make it?
If we want it, can we get it?
Do my rhymes make ripples or meaningless disturbances?
And will these ripples even cause waves? Will the motion become an ocean?
To prove yourself is to move mountains, yet mountains come by so infrequently today.
We possess the story telling wiseman within us all.
He belly laughs and wonders at tales of great.
The music he produces out of his fingertips flow seamlessly within the words of old.
And we wish to tell the novels inside of us yet we draw into each other like hibernation,
And we ignore the signals written in front of us.
Forever shading grey the power of our thoughts and feelings,
Wiping our faces clean of originality.
Personally, I need the success I deserve.
There's something inside that pushes the letters through my hands onto paper.
The drive courses like hot maple syrup,
Accelerating the existing liquids,
Pushing my limits to get what I want.
I want to prove I have to do this,
But I was always caught wondering if these words I give were prescribed or abused under the table of lesser men.
There will always be the greedy, the skeptical who question my right, who question my point of writing these rhymes.
But I must keep going,
Or these words will raisin,
Shriveled and wasted in graves and ashes.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC
Dan was a vegetarian-wiseman
A three square prayers a day man.
So deep in the den Dan stuck to the plan
And ended the night as he began
With ALL his limbs no less than
Before the lion became his new best fan.
Now the king saw Dan was no mere stunt man
So he sent out an urgent all points telegram
And overturned his ill-concieved prayer ban
(Which was previously proposed by a bunch of conmen)
And he told the people of EVERY clan:
"We must ALL fear the God of fearless Dan".
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 5:30 PM UTC
A wise man's tongue lies behind his heart,
So that his words are gracious and tranquil.
14/4/2021
Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 6:43 AM UTC