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Roses for a Lover, Idealized

These are poems about roses, and what they say and don't say to us ...

Roses for a Lover, Idealized
by Michael R. Burch

When you have become to me
as roses bloom, in memory,
exquisite, each sharp thorn forgot,
will I recall—yours made me bleed?

When winter makes me think of you—
whorls petrified in frozen dew,
bright promises blithe spring forsook,
will I recall your words—barbed, cruel?

***

What The Roses Don’t Say
by Michael R. Burch

TIME - ALEXIS KARPOUZOS

Time is the architect of fate,
and our life is the play of love and death,
To live a life that matters,
make the house,
where Gods may dwell,
there, in the temple of the soul,
we will not die an unlived life,
we will not live in fear of falling,
there, the dark stars waiting with their light
to draw the veil from truth.

Beauty of Living

Every dark cloud has silver lining,

Bed roses full of thorns stabbing,

In the dark of the night stars shining,

A sunny day turns to rainfall pouring,

Cool afternoon cold moments calling,

In a year summer and winter showing,

Making this the beauty of living

Tears and laughter comes in turns,

Smiley and gloomy faces takes shapes,

Teary eyes drying as moment passes,

Blown out candle rekindles in hearts,

Suppressed light shines in brightness

Bar of gold covers our paths in boldness,

beautiful day

Beautiful day,
hold me tight.
Show me birds
in high blue flight.
Show me bare branches
once clothed in green.
Show me fields of
waves serene.
Help me look beyond
things i can touch.
To see God's eyes,
I love so much.

Rick

The Sorrow and the Pretty, A Proem Upon "The Fallen Chrysanthemums" - Confessions of Nightingale, One Who Did Not Leap

*********

escape to chrysanthemum clouds 

now too too crowded 

for six falling, the sad young
men who leap from bridges: 

Tyler Clementi, Raymond Chase, 
Asher Brown, Billy Lucas, Seth Walsh, 
Justin Aaberg


Chrysanthemums in hand 
clutched for support: 

Two Wishes XI

In the silence of the night Death descended from God toward the earth. He hovered above a city and pierced the dwellings with his eyes. He say the spirits floating on wings of dreams, and the people who were surrendered to the Slumber.

When the moon fell below the horizon and the city became black, Death walked silently among the houses -- careful to touch nothing -- until he reached a palace. He entered through the bolted gates undisturbed, and stood by the rich man's bed; and as Death touched his forehead, the sleeper's eyes opened, showing great fright.

Two Sunsets

In the fair morning of his life,
When his pure heart lay in his breast,
Panting, with all that wild unrest
To plunge into the great world's strife

That fills young hearts with mad desire,
He saw a sunset. Red and gold
The burning billows surged and rolled,
And upward tossed their caps of fire.

He looked. And as he looked the sight
Sent from his soul through breast and brain
Such intense joy, it hurt like pain.
His heart seemed bursting with delight.

So near the Unknown seemed, so close

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