A mosaic moves, fluid and ever-changing
one-celled creatures congregate on a Petri dish
a dance of life unseen, yet profoundly felt.
I observe, familiarity settling in
the strangeness less jarring than before
yet it still boggles the mind.
Tiny worlds collide, merge, and reform
patterns emerge and dissolve
a constant flux of existence.
Each creature, a universe unto itself
…each moment
a testament to life's persistence.
In the quiet chambers, where the soul resides, There lies a sacred wisdom, where true knowledge hides. Beyond the realms of logic, beyond the mind's vast art, There blooms a deeper knowing, the knowledge of the heart. It whispers in the silence, in the spaces in between, In moments soft and tender, in visions deeply seen. It's felt in every heartbeat, in the rhythm of life's song, A truth that's pure and timeless, where hearts forever long. This knowledge needs no language, no words to understand, It's written in the actions, in the touch of a loving hand.
“Jessamyn’s Song” is an early poem of mine that I started around age 14 and was substantially complete by age 16.
Jessamyn's Song (circa age 14-16)
by Michael R. Burch
16
There are meadows heathered with thoughts of you,
where the honeysuckle winds
in fragrant, tangled vines
down to the water's edge.
Through the wind-bent grass
I watch time pass
slow with the dying day
on its lolling, rolling way ...
And I know you’ll soon be mine.
17
These are antinatalist poems and translations by Michael R. Burch. The antinatalist translations include poems and prose by Al-Ma'arri, Aristotle, Buddha, Homer, Omar Khayyam, Sappho, Seneca, the bible's King Solomon, and Sophocles.
Antinatalism is the belief that human beings should not procreate. Do we have the "right" to bring other human beings into a world that was always "red in tooth and claw" and is now increasingly deadly due to global warming, nuclear weapons, drone warfare and maniacal leaders like Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, Putin, Jong-un, Netanyahu and Trump?
In the quiet of the night,
We find a truth profound: there are no borders in our souls.
No lines to mark where you end and where I begin,
In the vast expanse within, we are kin.
Our hearts beat in unison, a universal song,
In the dance of life, we all belong.
No walls can hold the spirit, no chains can bind the heart,
In the realm of the soul, we are never apart.
The Best Poems of Michael R. Burch, Part II
The Most Popular Poems of Michael R. Burch, Part II
She bathes in silver
by Michael R. Burch
She bathes in silver,
~~~~~afloat~~~~~
on her reflections...
Kin
by Michael R. Burch
O pale, austere moon,
haughty beauty ...
what do we know of love,
or duty?
Styx
by Michael R. Burch, age 16
Black waters,
deep and dark and still . . .
all men have passed this way,
or will.
These are longer poems and longish poems by Michael R. Burch.
These Hallowed Halls
by Michael R. Burch
a young Romantic Poet mourns the passing of an age...
I.
A final stereo fades into silence
and now there is seldom a murmur
to trouble the slumber
of these ancient halls.
I stand by a window where others have watched
the passage of time—alone,
not untouched.
These are poems about sunset, poems about the song going down and things irretrivably lost, poems about regret.
Sunset
by Michael R. Burch
for my grandfather, George Edwin Hurt Sr., on the day he departed this life
Between the prophecies of morning
and twilight's revelations of wonder,
the sky is ripped asunder.
The moon lurks in the clouds,
waiting, as if to plunder
the dusk of its lilac iridescence,
and in the bright-tentacled sunset
we imagine a presence
full of the fury of lost innocence.
These are poems about sinking, poems about drowning, poems about loss, and poems about new discoveries we sometimes make while feeling lost...
Sinking
by Michael R. Burch
for Virginia Woolf
Weigh me down with stones…
fill all the pockets of my gown…
I’m going down,
mad as the world
that can’t recover,
to where even mermaids drown.
Door Mouse
by Michael R. Burch
Love, a little church that standing all alone,
waits with open doors,
but nobody goes there to pray,
the prayers will go unsaid, now, where to go?
which way? love, be my beacon,
teach me to look at an empty sky without fear.
