Michael Troy Buffo
Michael Troy Buffo Poems
If I could possibly paint a picture
Of the love that I have for you,
It would contain the most brilliant colors
And the most gentle, changing hues
...
(Note to the reader: This is by far my least favorite poem! -But one that everyone seems to read first! The prose is overly simplistic and bland. If you want a real love poem, read 'A Picture of Love' and 'In The Waters of Life! ' Please don't judge my ability by this lame scrawling!)
Your name is sweet music
That rings in my ears
...
Here under the stars
Where both of us lay
With you in my arms
Where I want you to stay
...
(Another of my earliest works)
The longest poem without inspiration
Is like a laborer without persperation
...
The corporate ladder has many rungs
But the scream of freedom fills my lungs;
To leave this world of dog eat dog
And hike through a misty mountain fog.
...
Screw this and the hell with that
Kick the dog and fling the cat
Throw rocks through windows and shoot at cars
Flip off the cops and start fights in bars
...
Loneliness brings
The death within
And as the bottle empties,
The nightmares begin.
...
(Yet another early work - one month shy of 17)
When death is coming up your walk,
And you're unaware of his escence,
...
Fluorocarbons, chemicals, nuclear waste,
War, starvation, genocide, and the ever bitter taste
Of false religion, rampant plagues,
And decisions made in haste,
...
Oh, London’s lovely Linda,
I’m a giver, not a lender
And I want to give you everything I’ve got.
You see, my luscious Linda,
...
I’ve had fear and dealt with pain,
I have wept and wracked my brain,
But now my comfort’s hope and my love in you.
As I look up through the rain,
...
Endless corridors
Twisting through time
The farther they go
The higher they climb
...
The waters of life run deep,
Their unknowable currents swift.
Some are wont to wade it’s shores
And others merely drift.
...
Thunderclouds pass to reveal the sun,
Yet pools of water still remain,
A shot is fired from a soldier’s gun,
As another falls in dampened pain
...
As I look into the darkness
From the light of my room,
To find nothing in any direction,
Upon the window I notice
...
The secret dreads,
The bloodied heads
Buried deep beneath the garden
The way they bled,
...
His life on stage was peace of mind,
A blessing now you seldom find
If you ask him what's his cause
He'll tell you it's to cause applause
...
Though we're parted
By thousands of miles
A sea, an ocean,
And airport turnstiles
...
Places you dispise
People you distrust
Look into your eyes
You know escape's a must
...
Liquid ceilings that ripple and spin,
Claws for hands and hooves for feet
Waiting for reality to rebegin
Odd expressions from people you meet
...
Michael Troy Buffo Biography
Born in Vallejo and residing in American Canyon, California, I began writing poetry when I was 13 years old. Sadly, my first poem (about the genocide of Native Americans) , was lost within months of writing it. When I turned 16, my mother gave me a journal to write my poetry in - I still have it. Some of my poetry, I have put to music and some I have abandoned. Certainly, I have poetry that I deem unpublishable which, perhaps, no one will ever see. My poetry tends to originate under one of three circumstances: Elation, Depression or extreme boredom. Most of my recent writing has not been prose, but rather political and social commentary and letters to editorial columns under the pseudonym 'Michael Troy'. ('Divided And Conquered'* might give you some insight to my political slant.) [*I wrote this over a period of months. The original version contained a lot of adult language and imagery meant to evoke a visceral reaction (and hopefully self-reflection) in the reader. It has been routinely and unfairly censored by those with lessor minds and no regard for free-speech or poetic license. They are the architects of your mediocrity.] None the less, I still write an occasional poem or two and this is the first place you'll see them... Please feel free to leave your comments.)
The Best Poem Of Michael Troy Buffo
A Picture Of Love
If I could possibly paint a picture
Of the love that I have for you,
It would contain the most brilliant colors
And the most gentle, changing hues
It would be of a sunrise
Coming out of the east,
With an intensity unmatched
By man or beast
It would sing of the Bond
That we share, you and I,
With the distant clouds jealous
Of our clear, azure sky
There would be blues, rich and deep
For the sincerest vows we each shall keep
The canvas shows through with virtuous white
For the peaceful way we’ll sleep at night
And it should have the most vibrant red
For the insatiable passion we’ll share in bed
And the softest brush strokes would play their part
In describing that place for you in my heart,
But the boldest strokes of the greatest length
Could not depict my love or it’s strength
A picture is worth a thousand words,
But my love is worth much more
So my brushes, my canvas, and my paints,
I cast upon the floor
It is a futile effort to paint my love
Upon an easel made of steel,
And even my words could never color
This deepest emotion that I feel
So try to grasp these four mere words
(And God, I pray you do)
The entire meaning when I say,
Darling, I love you.
Michael Troy Buffo Comments
And to think that in the animal kingdom, animals sometimes eat their young but only out of their instinct to survive and not for intentional malice... makes me wish I wasn't more than a tiny butterfly. Very vivid and powerful poem...
How eloquently you put this, the bitter-sweet reality of those almost impossible to bear long-distance love affairs. And at the end of all the effort, thoughts and feelings, one can only hope that it's not too much, too little... well, we know how that phrase ends..
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2/9/2026 10:21:26 AM # 1.0.0
How wonderfully you describe something that can't be... described. Love this one!