These are poems about daredevils, poems about risk-takers, poems about heroes, poems about gypsies and other vagabonds...
Daredevil
by Michael R. Burch
There are days that I believe
(and nights that I deny)
love is not mutilation.
Daredevil, dry your eyes.
There are tightropes leaps bereave—
taut wires strumming high
brief songs, infatuations.
Daredevil, dry your eyes.
There were cannon shots’ soirees,
hearts barricaded, wise ...
and then ... annihilation.
Daredevil, dry your eyes.
There were nights our hearts conceived
dawns’ indiscriminate sighs.
To dream was our consolation.
Daredevil, dry your eyes.
There were acrobatic leaves
that tumbled down to lie
at our feet, bright trepidations.
Daredevil, dry your eyes.
There were hearts carved into trees—
tall stakes where you and I
left childhood’s salt libations ...
Daredevil, dry your eyes.
Where once you scraped your knees;
love later bruised your thighs.
Death numbs all, our sedation.
Daredevil, dry your eyes.
Daredevil (II)
by Michael R. Burch
You hid yourself amid the midday clouds,
camouflaged, the whitest dove, as pale ...
until they darkened into ominous shrouds.
Such a splendid flier, yet so frail, ...
you thought to flee the earth and still prevail!
You hid yourself amid the midday clouds,
flew high into the fierce December gale’s
diaphanous veils, an angel by earth’s scale ...
until they darkened into ominous shrouds.
You flew beyond the shivery sleet and hail
until you disappeared. How could you fail?
You hid yourself amid the midday clouds,
so high above earth’s lackluster jail,
we thought the clouds themselves became your bail ...
until they darkened into ominous shrouds.
But who am I to rave and rant and rail
at gods who all agree: frail things must fail.
You hid yourself amid the midday clouds
until they darkened into ominous shrouds.
Flight 93
by Michael R. Burch
I held the switch in trembling fingers ... asked
why existence felt so small, so meaningless,
like a minnow squirming feebly in my grasp ...
... vibrations of huge engines thrummed my arms
as, glistening with sweat, I nudged the switch
to OFF ... I heard the klaxon’s shrill alarms
like vultures’ shriekings ... earthward, in a stall ...
we floated ... earthward ... wings outstretched, aghast
like Icarus ... as through the void we fell ...
till nothing was so beautiful, so blue ...
so vivid as that moment ... and I held
an image of your face, and dreamed I flew
into your arms ... the earth rushed up ... I knew
such comfort, in that moment, loving you.
Published by The Lyric, The Eclectic Muse (Canada), Poetry Super Highway, Poetically Speaking, Poetic Ponderings, Poetry Exchange, Poetic Reflections, Dark Chamber, Poetry Loft, Papercheck, My Beautiful New York, Poetry Life & Times, Famous Poets and Poems, Inspirational Stories, Fullosia Press, 9-11 Heroes, ilovepoetry.com and gotpoetry.com
This gypsy passion of parting!
by Marina Tsvetaeva
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This gypsy passion of parting!
We meet, and are ready for flight!
I rest my dazed head in my hands,
and think, staring into the night ...
that no one, perusing our letters,
will ever understand the real depth
of just how sacrilegious we were,
which is to say we had faith,
in ourselves.
Geraldine in her pj's
by Michael R. Burch
for Geraldine A. V. Hughes
Geraldine in her pj's
checks her security relays,
sits down armed with a skillet,
mutters, "Intruder? I'll kill it!"
Then, as satellites wink high above,
she turns to her poets with love.
