Epigrams 2 Poem by Michael Burch

The One True Poem
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

Love was not meaningless...
nor your embrace, nor your kiss.

And though every god proved a phantom,
still you were divine to your last dying atom...

So that when you are gone
and, yea, not a word remains of this poem,

even so,
We were One.



The Poem of Poems
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

This is my Poem of Poems, for you.
Every word ineluctably true:
I love you.



Dawn
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth and Laura and all good mothers

Bring your particular strength
to the strange nightmarish fray:
wrap up your cherished ones
in the golden light of day.



Here and Hereafter
by Michael R. Burch

Life's saving graces are love, pleasure, laughter...
wisdom, it seems, is for the Hereafter.



Epitaph for a Palestinian Child

I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.

Originally published by Romantics Quarterly



Autumn Conundrum
by Michael R. Burch

It's not that every leaf must finally fall,
it's just that we can never catch them all.

Originally published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea, this poem has since been translated into Russian, Macedonian, Turkish, Arabic and Romanian.



Piercing the Shell
by Michael R. Burch

If we strip away all the accouterments of war,
perhaps we'll discover what the heart is for.

Originally published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea, this poem has been translated into Russian, Turkish, Macedonian and Arabic



The most dangerous words ever uttered by human lips are 'thus saith the LORD.' — Michael R. Burch



The editors of Poetry know no more about poetry than I do about basket-weaving, except that I know a good basket when I have it in my hands.—Michael R. Burch



When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced.
Live your life so that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice.
—White Elk, translation by Michael R. Burch



Once fanaticism has gangrened brains
the incurable malady invariably remains.
—Voltaire, translation by Michael R. Burch



Hypocrisy may deceive the most perceptive adult, but the dullest child recognizes and is revolted by it, however ingeniously disguised.—Leo Tolstoy, translation by Michael R. Burch



First they came for the Muslims
by Michael R. Burch

after Martin Niemoller

First they came for the Muslims
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Muslim.

Then they came for the homosexuals
and I did not speak out
because I was not a homosexual.

Then they came for the feminists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a feminist.

Now when will they come for me
because I was too busy and too apathetic
to defend my sisters and brothers?

Published in Amnesty International's Words That Burn anthology

NOTE: My poem was inspired by and patterned after Martin Niemoller's famous Holocaust poem. It has been published in Amnesty International's Words That Burn anthology, which is used as a training resource for young human rights activists.



Civility
is the ability
to disagree
agreeably.
—Michael R. Burch



We cannot change the past, but we can learn from it.—Michael R. Burch



Teddy Roosevelt spoke softly and carried a big stick;
Donald Trump speaks loudly and carries a big shtick.
—Michael R. Burch



Thanks to politicians like George W. Bush, Sarah Palin, Michelle Bachmann and Donald Trump, we now have a duh-mock-racy.—Michael R. Burch



The best tonic for other people's bad ideas is to think for oneself.—Michael R. Burch



Less Heroic Couplets: Miss Bliss
by Michael R. Burch

Domestic 'bliss'?
Best to swing and miss!



Less Heroic Couplets: Then and Now
by Michael R. Burch

BEFORE: Thanks to Brexit, our lives will be plush! ...
AFTER: Crap, we're going broke! What the hell is the rush?



Less Heroic Couplets: Dear Pleader
by Michael R. Burch

Is our Dear Pleader, as he claims, heroic?
I prefer my presidents a bit more stoic.



Less Heroic Couplets: Less than Impressed
by Michael R. Burch

for T. M., regarding certain dispensers of lukewarm air

Their volume's impressive, it's true...
but somehow it all seems 'much ado.'



Less Heroic Couplets: Poetry I
by Michael R. Burch

Poetry is the heart's caged rhythm,
the soul's frantic tappings at the panes of mortality.



Less Heroic Couplets: Poetry II
by Michael R. Burch

Poetry is the trapped soul's frantic tappings
at the panes of mortality.



Less Heroic Couplets: Seesaw
by Michael R. Burch

A poem is the mind teetering between fact and fiction,
momentarily elevated.



Less Heroic Couplets: Passions
by Michael R. Burch

Passions are the heart's qualms,
the soul's squalls, the brain's storms.