Her beauty crept through her bones and oozed through her pores.
As she spoke gold dripped from her tongue and fire spit from her lips
The Panther in the shadows walked with grace and certainty
Hungry for attention, affection, and a spark to ignite her life she pawed down every compliment thrown at her
She satisfied to be unsatisfied. To simply exist in the darkness where there was very little to hurt her and even less to make her happy
......
Have you ever really wondered?
Stopped your busyness and pondered,
and taken the time to work out,
what Christmas is really all about?
Why all the Christmas decorations
and hard work and preparations?
Why do we give out the presents
if Christmas is only a pretence?
......
I see the sun run over the sea, later set
Below the horizon of Bay of Bengal, every evening
And the sea I see threat
The boys and girls, and sing
Whimsically, 'O, I'm now giant, be alert';
So they go apart.
I see the sun run over the meadow, later hide
Behind the trees of beautiful Bengal, every evening
And the meadow I see bid
......
I used to hold her hand at night
Roll over in bed and take her hand in mine and think "This is love - it must be because I want to hold her hand while she sleeps"
In the evening or at night she would tell me about things that stabbed her and made her hard or even mean and I would cry inside but think "This is love - it must be because my heart breaks for her while she speaks"
One night, I was far away
And I was the one that had been stabbed and wanted to talk to her before I became hard and mean
It was too late
She was bloody gristle with nothing to offer
Not even a kind word
......
I broke a mirror the other day.
It shattered me, but I was fine.
For the me that I saw on display
Was just an I from another time.
These are poems for poets and poems about poets. Also, poems about the art and craft of writing poetry...
The Wonder Boys
by Michael R. Burch
(for Leslie Mellichamp, the late editor of The Lyric,
who was a friend and mentor to many poets, and
a fine poet in his own right)
......
I see the sun run over the sea, later set
Below the horizon of Bay of Bengal, every evening
And the sea I see threat
The boys and girls, and sing
Whimsically, 'O, I'm now giant, be alert';
So they go apart.
I see the sun run over the meadow, later hide
Behind the trees of beautiful Bengal, every evening
And the meadow I see bid
......
clouds rain
eyes strain
through liquid lines on window pane
lines arc
mind sparks
seeking secrets in the dark
clock ticks
thoughts flick
philosopher to lunatic
booms crack
......
I broke a mirror the other day.
It shattered me, but I was fine.
For the me that I saw on display
Was just an I from another time.
Have you ever really wondered?
Stopped your busyness and pondered,
and taken the time to work out,
what Christmas is really all about?
Why all the Christmas decorations
and hard work and preparations?
Why do we give out the presents
if Christmas is only a pretence?
......