A bee chases a butterfly
Flapping her frail white wings
Flys avidly unto the lea
Sprightly swirls in subtle swings
A bee chases a butterfly
A leaf plunges off a tree
Long thin grasses stretch to extreme
Reach out to seize glare's glee
......
I broke a mirror the other day.
It shattered me, but I was fine.
For the me that I saw on display
Was just an I from another time.
Her beauty crept through her bones and oozed through her pores.
As she spoke gold dripped from her tongue and fire spit from her lips
The Panther in the shadows walked with grace and certainty
Hungry for attention, affection, and a spark to ignite her life she pawed down every compliment thrown at her
She satisfied to be unsatisfied. To simply exist in the darkness where there was very little to hurt her and even less to make her happy
......
These are poems for poets and poems about poets. Also, poems about the art and craft of writing poetry...
The Wonder Boys
by Michael R. Burch
(for Leslie Mellichamp, the late editor of The Lyric,
who was a friend and mentor to many poets, and
a fine poet in his own right)
......
If I stay will you hold me
And comfort me through my tears
If I go will you miss me
And live with regret through the years
If I stay will you kiss me
With the passion you used to show
If I go will you let me
Be someone you used to know
......
A bee chases a butterfly
Flapping her frail white wings
Flys avidly unto the lea
Sprightly swirls in subtle swings
A bee chases a butterfly
A leaf plunges off a tree
Long thin grasses stretch to extreme
Reach out to seize glare's glee
......
These are poems for poets and poems about poets. Also, poems about the art and craft of writing poetry...
The Wonder Boys
by Michael R. Burch
(for Leslie Mellichamp, the late editor of The Lyric,
who was a friend and mentor to many poets, and
a fine poet in his own right)
......
I see the sun run over the sea, later set
Below the horizon of Bay of Bengal, every evening
And the sea I see threat
The boys and girls, and sing
Whimsically, 'O, I'm now giant, be alert';
So they go apart.
I see the sun run over the meadow, later hide
Behind the trees of beautiful Bengal, every evening
And the meadow I see bid
......
clouds rain
eyes strain
through liquid lines on window pane
lines arc
mind sparks
seeking secrets in the dark
clock ticks
thoughts flick
philosopher to lunatic
booms crack
......
I broke a mirror the other day.
It shattered me, but I was fine.
For the me that I saw on display
Was just an I from another time.