I once wrote a song I could but not finish…
Whoever finishes the songs of life?
But tell me, how? when each end begins with a new life lease?
I once met a man who paints only in shades and tints
Whoever applauds the silver greyness of the cloudless skies?
But tell me, whoever shuts out the radiance of the rainbow colours?
Ijangbon boldly pushes Odumare’s last limits, but as…
We know insanity remains the smallest room in the castle of audacity
......
I was a capable, urban professional, quite eagerly living the high life;
Like pink robin, of the saffron noon zenith, afore shadows bloom rife.
My daily work was very challenging, and it allowed me to be creative;
Like the generous stains of colors, which to changing skies, are native.
Since things were going well, with few issues, I believed I was happy,
Like sunbeam roses. Yet, often heard were the words, 'Make it snappy!'
Freshwater pearls free-fell from clouds, in a June of flavorful cherries;
......
Colors in the trees
They're decked out for summer fest
in raspberry days
At last the get together
Seasons come but once a year
Here comes red robin
for the sunshine singalong
as jay sings the blues
amidst dark berries galore
......
fuchsia gold pink dawn
naturally it's beauty
sunburst in the bay
the hour of hush still rapture
melted colors drift to sea
at the verge of day
in the time of green tree songs
wading in waters
beneficent sunshine rays
......
Frenzied, melodic tunes are playing, in the lime green forests,
In whistles, croaks and chirping, where jade growth is lawless,
And nature is humming and dancing, all over the azure world-
Then colors dance on even skies, where sunset lately swirled.
Stars and moon gaze all nighttime, at the never ending ballet,
With its sudden leaps and easy jumps, while the crickets play,
And when morning returns, they are doing the lively quickstep,
To magenta, dawn singing, and as always, there is no misstep.
Lyrics come to me by moonlight
When the power of darkness lessens
When whispers soften like overripe
Mangoes dispatched hurriedly from India,
On ramshackle East Indiamen vessels
Sailing fruitfully through consternated
Waters and heated lines of the tropics,
Selling rewardingly on busy markets
Charged with the power of buy-and-sell,
And order-and-supply.
......
I was a capable, urban professional, quite eagerly living the high life;
Like pink robin, of the saffron noon zenith, afore shadows bloom rife.
My daily work was very challenging, and it allowed me to be creative;
Like the generous stains of colors, which to changing skies, are native.
Since things were going well, with few issues, I believed I was happy,
Like sunbeam roses. Yet, often heard were the words, 'Make it snappy!'
Freshwater pearls free-fell from clouds, in a June of flavorful cherries;
......
Songs are invented from the throats of
bamboos, when their robust stems
smile through the caress of the sun.
And melodies seep through the
the lean threads of the plexus, gently.
Balmed by the cosseted whims of
lewd bees, the crux of the tune, soothed
and remedied, slowly besieges us.
Songs are wayward....
Haunting,
......
These are villanelles by Michael R. Burch and and villanelle-like poems, including a new new poetic form I invented, the “trinelle” or “triplenelle.”
Villanelle: She Always Grew Roses
by Michael R. Burch
for my grandmother, Lillian Lee
Tell us, heart, what the season discloses.
......
I praise the wise and respect the wisdom of every old and young, for when they speak they pave the way to every poem or song.
There is a charm in all their words and phrases short or long. In what they say you should believe until you prove them wrong.
When wisdom speaks I always listen to thoughts of brilliant minds, just like a gem or precious stone or gold in haunted mines.
I feel the words and see them spark in corners everywhere, sometimes I even smell their scent floating in the air.
A set of words in form of art could take your breath away, for classy words will make you feel in heaven you want to stay.
......