No Wait in Vain : Poets Meet
For decades I waited
And you did not come
To listen to my rude insertion
Finger a sound at the back of my throat
And the vibration of my name
For decades I wanted to meet
......
POETS
Desert dust before the rain hampered our walk
on the Oregon floor
boards creaked with late afternoon lore
Dry gin in a glass waiting
it wanted to bubble like champagne
but there was nothing to babble about
......
I am searching for a real Hero
Not a virtual or an actual zero
I am searching for many Heroes
And I want to earn many zeros
After any number greater than one
I want to go beyond the Heaven
But I don’t want to get high
I want to go high, high, high
And get as much knowledge that I can
And I want to say that yes, I can
......
Shall I take thee, the Poet said
To the propounded word?
Be stationed with the Candidates
Till I have finer tried—
The Poet searched Philology
And when about to ring
For the suspended Candidate
There came unsummoned in—
......
That my words bring to others comfort and joy,
And will remind them of small moments we enjoy,
Like when the midnight sky, touches the cool sea,
And the empty blackness ahead, resounds sweetly.
To give abundant hope to those who are striving,
Like the orange skies of new dawn just arriving!
That I may provide the sad or lonely a new friend,
That will be revisited in print again and again.
......
No Wait in Vain : Poets Meet
For decades I waited
And you did not come
To listen to my rude insertion
Finger a sound at the back of my throat
And the vibration of my name
For decades I wanted to meet
......
Most poets write in shortful spurts,
(Departures are Evangeline and Shakespeare's works).
Now, why do poets write that way?
Why do they bother with contrived word play?
There's something about poetic style
that more easily makes people smile,
or cry, at times, it all depends
upon the poet's aims and ends.
......
POETS
Desert dust before the rain hampered our walk
on the Oregon floor
boards creaked with late afternoon lore
Dry gin in a glass waiting
it wanted to bubble like champagne
but there was nothing to babble about
......
There is always a poem waiting—
an understudy, breathless in the wings,
shadowed by today’s centre stage,
its lines trembling, yearning to be heard.
This poem, however, holds its ground.
It stands, distinct as a fingerprint,
etched with the soul of its unwritten forbears—
the lived and the whispered, but never fully spoken.
......
These are poems about poetry, poems about writing, poems about the process of composition...
The Composition of Shadows (I)
by Michael R. Burch
“I made it out of a mouthful of air.”—W. B. Yeats
We breathe and so we write; the night
......