Youthful passions strike a silent nerve,
All the hearts I yearned for are now gone or dead.
Not caught up in the mire where moths decay,
But enclosed in brick walls, with promises bound by sacred rings where many now stay.
And now, I slowly play back our fondest memories on shadowy screens,
Trying to understand if I mistakenly skipped any predestined scene.
For I gave everything I had and never played another script,
What else do women want, when you give them everything?
The Effects of Memory
by Michael R. Burch
A black ringlet curls to lie
at the nape of her neck,
glistening with sweat
in the evaporate moonlight ...
This is what I remember
now that I cannot forget.
......
I have understood my mother in the present weather.
Her colourless, toothless, though contended a smile
Naif, fair, with dappled on face,
Age and height middled
Beautiful, my ‘maa’ she was.
In winter, she caught the ability to forget,
Forget her past, her present.... future-
Everything, but not everything, not me.
I was the nectar if bee she was,
......
I meant to say goodbye to you
before you left and went elsewhere
somehow I never got the chance
so I watch you walk away
Death comes in and steals away
Those things we want to do.
I could have built big bridges
Or molded the lives of men.
I could have climbed the ridges
Adventure offered again.
Ah, but what remains is true —
Death came in, and stole today.
As i sit here rotten,
I look at a happy, playful couple of pretty butterflies,
Oh pitiful me! Hiddenly crying, holding onto my winter mitten,
It is a simple piece of fabric to one; but now I know how time flies,
Both of us look back upon thee,
A manner of glee which used to be,
A glee of a pact filled with lies.
Oh alas, me! Look. It is just a dirty pair of moths; a burden to fly.
......
Youthful passions strike a silent nerve,
All the hearts I yearned for are now gone or dead.
Not caught up in the mire where moths decay,
But enclosed in brick walls, with promises bound by sacred rings where many now stay.
And now, I slowly play back our fondest memories on shadowy screens,
Trying to understand if I mistakenly skipped any predestined scene.
For I gave everything I had and never played another script,
What else do women want, when you give them everything?
Death comes in and steals away
Those things we want to do.
I could have built big bridges
Or molded the lives of men.
I could have climbed the ridges
Adventure offered again.
Ah, but what remains is true —
Death came in, and stole today.
Starting something new
is a bit scary at first.
It's not the beginning that's hard,
but seeing it the whole way through.
Sometimes we make it to the end.
Sometimes we don't.
If we do make it through,
it makes us feel good.
A sense of joy when we look back
at what we accomplished.
......
The Effects of Memory
by Michael R. Burch
A black ringlet curls to lie
at the nape of her neck,
glistening with sweat
in the evaporate moonlight ...
This is what I remember
now that I cannot forget.
......