poetry

These are poems about flying and flight. 

Are the geese flying south?
The candle continues to flicker ...
—Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

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These are my modern English translations of epigrams and poems by Leonardo da Vinci. I suspect da Vinci's “Paragone of Poetry and Painting” may have been aimed like a dart at his greatest rival, Michelangelo!

Excerpts from “Paragone of Poetry and Painting” and Other Writings
by Leonardo da Vinci, circa 1500
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

There are modern English translations of Chinese poems by Michael R. Burch. 

These are poems about Politics by Michael Burch, and impolite poems about Politicians.

Gore-dom Boredom
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a candidate, Gore,
whose campaign had become quite a bore.
“He’s much too stiff,”
sighed his publicist,
“but not like his predecessor!”

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Political epigrams by Michael R. Burch
Political jokes by Michael R. Burch

"Chit Chat" is a poem about two very different kinds of poets ...

Chit Chat: in the Poetry Chat Room
by Michael R. Burch

WHY SHULD I LERN TO SPELL?
HELL,
NO ONE REEDS WHAT I SAY
ANYWAY!!! :(

Sing for the cool night,
whispers of constellations.
Sing for the supple grass,
the tall grass, gently whispering.
Sing of infinities, multitudes,
of all that lies beyond us now,
whispers begetting whispers.
And i am glad to also whisper . . .

I WUS HURT IN LUV I’M DYIN’
FER TH’ TEARS I BEEN A-CRYIN’!!!

These are poems I have written for other poets, after other poets, about other poets, and about poets and poetry in general.

What the Poet Sees
by Michael R. Burch

What the poet sees,
he sees as a swimmer
~~~~underwater~~~~
watching the shoreline blur
sees through his breath’s weightless bubbles ...
Both worlds grow obscure.

In Praise of Meter
by Michael R. Burch

When I shall end my days on this earth,
hold fast to dreams
for if dreams die.
The soul, denies its divine heritage in life
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go away,
the silent world of shadows is coming.
And if the Roads are blocked and Barbed wire rampant everywhere,
hold fast to dreams,
dreams are the mystics messengers of freedom that come within our heart and call us in secret,
A soul rose on this earth and walked its chosen path to fill her hands with morning songs.

i’m looking for the face i had before the world was made
I was the primordial flaring forth, the gravitational waves,
the whirling galaxies, and the exploding supernovas that would become stars and planets.
I was the steaming planet Earth, the bacteria awash in the sea, and the early eukaryotes and multicellular animals.
I exploded in the Cambrian explosion, stumbled onto land, walked with dinosaurs,
saw trees and flowers appear, walked upright in Africa, and walked on the moon.

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.

My child, let your life come into the world of darkness
like a spark of light, without flicker and pure,
and thank them in silence. You know, my child,
they are cruel in their greed and envy,
their words are disguised knives thirsting for blood.
But do not be afraid, my child, go and stand in their hearts,
and let your gentle eyes fall on them like the forgiving serenity of the night.
My child, let them see your face and so they know it
meaning of all things, let them love and love one another.