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.
......
My shadow creeps after me-
It stays and stays
On sunny days.
It does things with
Other shadows.
My shadow sniffs a
Black flower.
It looks upon a
Black bird.
The world of shadow
......
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.
......
Out on the the highway I was, in those apricot days of August.
I was returning from a vacation, and the birdsong was raucous.
My car had made the long journey, without any issues at all,
Like sun loving blooms have no issue, as night begins to fall!
In early afternoon I was nearly home, and ready for calm rest,
As the sun creeps off in darkness, vividly toward sunset west.
This was a happy time in my life, gay days were so satisfying.
......
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,
......