Winter came early:
the driving snows,
the delicate frosts
that crystallize
all we forget
or refuse to know,
all we regret
that makes us wise.
Spring was delayed:
the nubile rose,
the tentative sun,
the wind’s soft sighs,
all we omit
or refuse to show,
whatever we shield
behind guarded eyes.
Originally published by Borderless Journal (Singapore)
Ballade of the Bicameral Camel
by Michael R. Burch
Spring Was Delayed
by Michael R. Burch
Winter came early:
the driving snows,
the delicate frosts
that crystallize
all we forget
or refuse to know,
all we regret
that makes us wise.
Spring was delayed:
the nubile rose,
the tentative sun,
the wind’s soft sighs,
all we omit
or refuse to show,
whatever we shield
behind guarded eyes.
Originally published by Borderless Journal
***
Drippings
by Michael R. Burch
These are poems about the passage of time, aging, mortality and death.
The Shrinking Season
by Michael R. Burch
With every wearying year
the weight of the winter grows
and while the schoolgirl outgrows
her clothes,
the widow disappears
in hers.
Published by Angle, Poem Today (featured poem), Heartfelt Death Poems, Girls and Goblins and Madly Jane
***
Distances
by Michael R. Burch
These are poems about Frost, Ice and Winter, plus poems I have written after Robert Frost.
Snowflakes fall on the ground like
Wisdom that needs to be spread.
The fatter ones are the harshest ones,
And those are the ones that need to be said.
The tiniest flakes are the one-liners,
The bits of truths we learn every day
That sprinkle knowledge in my hair.
People avoid harsh truths,
But sometimes the truth is dressed as
A winter wonderland,
And sometimes that makes it
Easier to swallow.
I welcome snow on cold mornings.
It makes coming to life a lot simpler
Snowflakes fall on the ground like
Wisdom that needs to be spread.
The fatter ones are the harshest ones,
And those are the ones that need to be said.
The tiniest flakes are the one-liners,
The bits of truths we learn every day
That sprinkle knowledge in my hair.
People avoid harsh truths,
But sometimes the truth is dressed as
A winter wonderland,
And sometimes that makes it
Easier to swallow.
I welcome snow on cold mornings.
It makes coming to life a lot simpler
blue air
snowbound pockets
sailing the covered land
that's drifting white
branches broken
between the light
we lie in the snow
to sink beyond
anyone's sight
the streamlets circle
they wrap us
in their ice-bound arms
and we are one
shining with the sun
To the tune of "Happy Event Is Nigh"
The wind ceases; fallen flowers pile high.
Outside my screen, petals collect in heaps of red
and snow-white.
This reminds me that after the blooming
of the cherry-apple tree
It is time to lament the dying spring.
Singing and drinking have come to an end;
jade cups are empty;
Lamps are flickering.
Hardly able to bear the sorrows and regrets
of my dreams,
I hear the mournful cry of the cuckoo.
933
Two Travellers perishing in Snow
The Forests as they froze
Together heard them strengthening
Each other with the words
That Heaven if Heaven—must contain
What Either left behind
And then the cheer too solemn grew
For language, and the wind
Long steps across the features took
That Love had touched the Morn
With reverential Hyacinth—
The taleless Days went on
Till Mystery impatient drew
And those They left behind
Led absent, were procured of Heaven
As Those first furnished, said—