Dreams hide at nights only.
At noon they come in from the cold.
They stretch and hide
under the dark, thick skin of shadows.
The eye of a dream is bleached
at night, dilating towards the
pulse of whitewashed shadows.
......
The shadows were creeping like golden summer,
Upon arising covertly, from crimson dawn mists,
And they shrank at noon to a realm just under,
Then idly resumed, their daring sunshine risks,
'Til plum twilight, and a kingdom they'd missed!
These are poems about poetry, poems about writing, poems about the process of composition...
The Composition of Shadows (I)
by Michael R. Burch
“I made it out of a mouthful of air.”—W. B. Yeats
We breathe and so we write; the night
......
These are poems about shadows, poems about darkness, poems about shades in the form of ghosts and spirits...
Shadows
by Michael R. Burch
Alone again as evening falls,
I join gaunt shadows and we crawl
up and down my room's dark walls.
......
In shadows of blue
clouds slow dance across the skies
Tender sunlight dream
follows mute, chronic drifters
round and round the blooming world
O'er shady forests
desert flowers and green seas
blithe homes and fast cars
Greeting fields of lavender
......
Dreams hide at nights only.
At noon they come in from the cold.
They stretch and hide
under the dark, thick skin of shadows.
The eye of a dream is bleached
at night, dilating towards the
pulse of whitewashed shadows.
......
These are poems about shadows, poems about darkness, poems about shades in the form of ghosts and spirits...
Shadows
by Michael R. Burch
Alone again as evening falls,
I join gaunt shadows and we crawl
up and down my room's dark walls.
......
These are poems about poetry, poems about writing, poems about the process of composition...
The Composition of Shadows (I)
by Michael R. Burch
“I made it out of a mouthful of air.”—W. B. Yeats
We breathe and so we write; the night
......
Either at dusk or at dawn,
all hues of emotion rise from the moon.
Though tomorrows cast a spell on our shadows,
life will be beautified by poem-hearted fellows.
Take the night; see how eloquently it wears in black,
and conceive of the beloved of whom there lies a distinct lack.
But the light’s hands lead you to a sighing sight
When your heart manages to separate black from white.
......
I was a vivacious, aroma loving barista, laboring midnights in a coffee shop,
Offering tasty drinks to fellow night owls, while others dreamed of lollipops.
My work was so pleasant and suited me, for I was enamored of neon nights;
And I had forever been this way, as sable beauty is seen in a different light.
I was an eager connoisseur of coffee, and we offered so many rich varieties,
Underneath the pink, hoot owl moon, like lush offerings under papaya trees.
Friends and I were like night and day, and we had wild times when we could,
......