Heretical Sonnets

Heretical Sonnets
by Michael R. Burch

These are sonnets by Michael R. Burch. Many of these sonnets are "heretical" sonnets in that they disobey the rules of orthodox sonnets and return to the original definition of "sonnet" as a "little song." Included are Shakespearean sonnets, Petrarchan sonnets, Spenserian sonnets, blank verse sonnets, free verse sonnets and experimental sonnets.

Lady’s Favor
by Michael R. Burch

After Cummings Poems

After Cummings Poems
by Michael R. Burch

"AFTER CUMMINGS" POEMS

These are poems that I have written "after" e. e. cummings. Many of these poem were written during my early "Cummings Period," which started around age 14-15 when I discovered his poems in an English textbook. I have a cummings-ish type of poem that I call a "ur" poem. I will explain that modus operandi when we get to the first "ur" poem.

Michelangelo translations

Michelangelo translations
by Michael R. Burch

MICHELANGELO TRANSLATIONS

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni (1475-1564)was an Italian sculptor, painter, architect and poet. He and his fellow Florentine, Leonardo da Vinci, were rivals for the title of the archetypal Renaissance man. Michelangelo is considered by many to be the greatest artist of all time.

MICHELANGELO EPIGRAM TRANSLATIONS

I saw the angel in the marble and freed him.―Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch

I hewed away the coarse walls imprisoning the lovely apparition.―Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch

Crow within the Yellow Leaves

Crow within the Yellow Leaves
by Frank Watson

Successive years of falling leaves, as gold-
Enameled flowers flitter out, around
The garden nook, with simple stories told
To fragrant crowds at play on dampened ground.
 
This time we sipped a cup of coffee cold
And spoke of speckled, thinning hair once brown;
A crow called out, as if a black-winged scold
That hits its mark and pulls us twisting down.
 
Through God we came from chaos to earth and skies,
And painted all that’s dark a color bright,
As child-like wonder shows through gleaming eyes

Late Afternoon in December

The temperate air is filled with a gray mist,
Which thickens to a dense cloud when the eye
To make out forms of distant things doth try,
And whose close fold the sunbeams doth resist
The ground is soaked and darkened with the rain,
And in the road slow carriage wheels have rolled
Deep ruts, that little pools of water hold,
And in the path my steps leave footprints plain
In the sleeping trees no life is visible;
And, with this ghostly mist wrapped all around
Their branches, fancy makes them seem as bound

Six Sonnets to Joseph and Alice Barnes

I

My dear, dear Friends, my heart yearns forth to you
In very many of its lonely hours;
Not sweetlier comes the balm of evening dew
To all-day-drooping in fierce sunlight flowers,
Than to this weary withered heart of mine
The tender memories, the moonlight dreams
Which make your home an ever-sacred shrine,
And show your features lit with heavenly gleams.
I have with some most noble friends been blest;
I wage no quarrel with my human kin, —
Knowing my misery comes from my own breast,

Now

TAKE as you will, slake, solace, and possess
While Youth, with laughter, scatters tears that fall
Sudden and shaken sometimes at your call;
Pledge me in passion and in gentleness,--
In praise and prayer, I would not give you less,
Be less unconquerably true in all,
Take my young kisses,--my young spirit's thrall,
Forbid not Now's imperishable "Yes"!
When I am old, and cold, and wise, and grown
As far beyond as you outstrip me now,--
Nor plead, nor pant, nor challenge nor protest;
Oh, come not then, all these years less your own;


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