The HyperTexts

Michael R. Burch Epigrams and Quotes

This page contains epigrams, epitaphs, quotes, quips, jokes, puns, parodies, haiku, limericks and wordplay penned by Michael R. Burch along with a number of epitaphs, elegies, translations, interpretations and paraphrases ...

BRIEF ENCOUNTERS: PROSE EPIGRAMS

• Elevate your words, not their volume. Rain grows flowers, not thunder.—Rumi, translation by Michael R. Burch
• No wind is favorable to the man who lacks direction.—Seneca the Younger, translation by Michael R. Burch
• Little sparks may ignite great Infernos.—Dante, translation by Michael R. Burch
• You can crop all the flowers but you cannot detain spring.—Pablo Neruda, translation by Michael R. Burch
• Warmthless beauty attracts but does not engage us; it floats like hookless bait.—Capito, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
• Love distills the eyes’ desires, love bewitches the heart with its grace.—Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch
• The danger is not aiming too high and missing, but aiming too low and hitting the mark.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch
• If we shoot for the stars but only end up on Mars, that's still quite a ride.—Michael R. Burch
• He who follows will never surpass.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch
• Nothing enables authority like silence.—Leonardo da Vinci, translation by Michael R. Burch
• My objective is not to side with the majority, but to avoid the ranks of the insane.—Marcus Aurelius, translation by Michael R. Burch
• Time is sufficient for anyone who uses it wisely.—Leonardo da Vinci, translation by Michael R. Burch
• Blinding ignorance misleads us. Myopic mortals, open your eyes!—Leonardo da Vinci, translation by Michael R. Burch
• It is easier to oppose evil from the beginning than at the end.—Leonardo da Vinci, translation by Michael R. Burch
• Fools call wisdom foolishness.—Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch
• A man may attempt to burnish pure gold, but who can think to improve on his mother?—Mahatma Gandhi, translation by Michael R. Burch
• A mother's heart is God's ultimate masterpiece.—St. Therese of Lisieux, loose translation/interpretation/paraphrase by Michael R. Burch
• Truths are more likely discovered by one man than consortiums.—René Descartes, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
• To live without philosophizing is to close one's eyes and never attempt to open them.—René Descartes, translation by Michael R. Burch
• One true friend is worth ten thousand kin.—Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch
• Not to speak one’s mind is slavery.—Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch
• I would rather die standing than kneel, a slave.—Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch
• Fresh tears are wasted on old griefs.—Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch
• Heaven and hell seem unreasonable to me: the actions of men do not deserve such extremes.—Jorge Luis Borges, translation by Michael R. Burch
• Reality is neither probable nor likely.—Jorge Luis Borges, translation by Michael R. Burch
• Improve yourself by others' writings, attaining freely what they purchased at the expense of experience.—Socrates, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
• Experience is the best teacher but a hard taskmaster.—Michael R. Burch
• Time will tell, as it always does in the end.—Michael R. Burch
• Time flies, until it's flown.—Michael R. Burch
• The most dangerous words ever uttered by human lips are “Thus saith the LORD.” — Michael R. Burch
• Can a true religion be based on lies? How can the Bible be "infallible" when from beginning to end it commands and condones but never condemns the satanic institution of slavery?—Michael R. Burch
• Atheists give God the "benefit of the doubt."—Michael R. Burch
• The enemy is not without, but within our gates; it is with our own complacence, our own folly, our own cutthroats and criminals that we must contend. — Cicero, loose translation/interpretation 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
• Just as I select a ship when it's time to travel, or a house when it's time to change residences, even so I will choose when it's time to depart from life.―Seneca, speaking about the right to euthanasia in the first century AD, translation by Michael R. Burch

There are more prose epigrams later on this page.



TRANSLATIONS OF POETIC EPIGRAMS

An unbending tree
breaks easily.
—Lao Tzu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

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

Love is a canvas created by nature
and completed by imagination.
—Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A question that sometimes drives me hazy:
am I or are the others crazy?
—Albert Einstein, poetic translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Booksellers laud authors for novel editions
as pimps praise their whores for exotic positions.
—Thomas Campion, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

To know what we do know,
and to know what we don't,
is true knowledge.
—Confucius, sometimes incorrectly attributed to Nicolas Copernicus, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Without looking into our hearts,
how can we find Paradise?
—Kabir Das, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Where our senses fail,
reason must prevail.
—Galileo Galilei, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Athens, celestial city, crowned with violets, beloved of poets, bulwark of Greece!
—Pindar, fragment 64, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Do not, O my soul, aspire to immortality, but exhaust life.
—Pindar, Pythian Ode III, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

While nothing can save us from death,
still love can redeem each breath.
—Pablo Neruda, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

There are more Pablo Neruda translations later on this page ...

Everyone chases the way happiness feels,
unaware how it nips at their heels.
—Bertolt Brecht, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The world of learning takes a crazy turn
when teachers are taught to think and discern!
—Bertolt Brecht, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Hungry man, reach for the book:
it's a hook,
a harpoon.
—Bertolt Brecht, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



EPITAPHS, ELEGIES AND EULOGIES

Elegy for a little girl, lost
by Michael R. Burch

for my mother, Christine Ena Burch

. . . qui laetificat juventutem meam . . .
She was the joy of my youth,
and now she is gone.
. . . requiescat in pace . . .
May she rest in peace.
. . . amen . . .
Amen.

I was touched by this Latin prayer, which I discovered in a novel I read as a teenager, around age 16 or 17, and chose to incorporate into a poem. From what I now understand, “ad deum qui laetificat juventutem meam” means “to the God who gives joy to my youth,” but I am sticking with my original interpretation: a lament for a little girl at her funeral. The phrase can be traced back to Saint Jerome's translation of Psalm 42 in the Vulgate Latin Bible (circa 385 AD). I dedicated the poem to my mother, Christine Ena Burch, after her death, because she was always a little girl at heart, and pure of heart like a little girl.

Epitaph for a Palestinian Child
by Michael R. Burch

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

Americans are rightly outraged when Ukrainians are victims of ethnic cleansing, but millions of "good Christians" turn their backs when the victims are Palestinians...

Ko Un was speechless at Auschwitz.
Someday, when it’s too late,
will we be speechless at Gaza?
—Michael R. Burch

After the Poetry Recital
by Michael R. Burch

Later there’ll be talk of saving whales
over racks of lamb and flambéed snails.

Sinking
by Michael R. Burch

for Virginia Woolf

Weigh me down with stones ...
   fill all the pockets of my gown ...
      I’m going down,
         mad as the world
            that can’t recover,
to where even mermaids drown.




THE CHIASMUS AND SPOONERISM

To avoid being a hack writer, hack away at your writing.—Michael R. Burch

To fall an inch short of infinity is to fall infinitely short.—Michael R. Burch

Love is either wholly folly
or fully holy.
—Michael R. Burch

Love's full of cute paradoxes
and highly acute poxes.
—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, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It’s time to impeach
the peach imp.
—Michael R. Burch

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

Trump's supporters go on and on about the "deep state," but they're in a deep state of denial. — Michael R. Burch

Trump's goal is not to be a good president, but to be president for good, like his hero Putin. — Michael R. Burch

Is Trump the American Messiah, or MESSiah? Jesus Christ had the courage of his convictions, while the only convictions Trump has are of the criminal variety. — Michael R. Burch

The Trumps, who got their start ripping off the government and tenants by building federal housing, will now become trumped tenants of the government they ripped off. — Michael R. Burch

Milli Vanilli seemed like two singers who could have been models, but they turned out to be two models pretending to be singers. —Michael R. Burch

We all have our limits: I will go to great lengths to avoid the word "chiasmi."— Michael R. Burch

Old Pantaloons, an Extended Chiasmus
by Michael R. Burch

Old pantaloons are soft and white,
prudent days, imprudent nights
when fingers slip through drawers to feel
that which they long most to steal.

Old panty loons are soft and white,
prudent days, imprudent nights
when fingers slip through drawers to steal
that which they long most to feel.



EPIGRAMS PROPER & IMPROPER

Fleet Tweet: Apologies to Shakespeare
by Michael R. Burch

a tweet
by any other name
would be as fleet!
—@mikerburch

Fleet Tweet II: Further Apologies to Shakespeare
by Michael R. Burch

Remember, doggonit,
heroic verse crowns the Shakespearean sonnet!
So if you intend to write a couplet,
please do it on the doublet!
—@mikerburch

Stage Fright
by Michael R. Burch

To be or not to be?
In the end Hamlet
opted for naught.

Attention Span Gap
by Michael R. Burch

What if a poet, Shakespeare,
were still living to tweet to us here?
He couldn't write sonnets,
just couplets, doggonit,
and we wouldn't have Hamlet or Lear!

Yes, a sonnet may end in a couplet,
which we moderns can write in a doublet,
in a flash, like a tweet.
Does that make it complete?
Should a poem be reduced to a stublet?

Bring back that Grand Era when men
had attention spans long as their pens,
or rather the quills
of the monsieurs and fils
who gave us the Dress, not its hem!

Please click here for more poems by Michael R. Burch about Shakespeare.

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.

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.

Childless
by Michael R. Burch

How can she bear her grief?
Mightier than Atlas, she shoulders the weight
of one fallen star.

don’t forget ...
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

don’t forget to remember
that Space is curved
(like your Heart)
and that even Light is bent
by your Gravity.

I dedicated this poem to the love of my life, but you are welcome to dedicate it to the love of yours, if you like it. The opening lines were inspired by a famous love poem by e. e. cummings.

Kissin’ ’n’ buzzin’
by Michael R. Burch

Kissin’ ’n’ buzzin’
the bees rise
in a dizzy circle of two.
Oh, when I’m with you,
I feel like kissin’ ’n’ buzzin’ too!

This is another poem I wrote for my wife, but you're welcome to share it with that special someone, if you like it.

Styx
by Michael R. Burch

Black waters,
deep and dark and still . . .
all men have passed this way,
or will.

Nun Fun Undone
by Michael R. Burch

after Richard Thomas Moore

Abbesses'
recesses
are not for excesses!

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
by Michael R. Burch

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

Laughter’s Cry
by Michael R. Burch

Because life is a mystery, we laugh
and do not know the half.

Because death is a mystery, we cry
when one is gone, our numbering thrown awry.

Stormfront
by Michael R. Burch

Our distance is frightening:
a distance like the abyss between heaven and earth
interrupted by bizarre and terrible lightning.

Incompatibles
by Michael R. Burch

Reason’s treason!
cries the Heart.

Love’s insane,
replies the Brain.

Intimations
by Michael R. Burch

Show me your most intimate items of apparel;
begin with the hem of your quicksilver slip ...

Imperfect Perfection
by Michael R. Burch

You’re too perfect for words—
a problem for a poet.

Expert Advice
by Michael R. Burch

Your breasts are perfect for your lithe, slender body.
Please stop making false comparisons your hobby!

The Reason for the Rain
by Michael R. Burch

The day’s eyes were blue
until you appeared
and they wept at your beauty.

The Reason for the Rain (II)
by Michael R. Burch

The sky was blue
until you appeared
and it wept at your beauty.

Liquid Assets
by Michael R. Burch

And so I have loved you,
and so I have lost,
accrued disappointment, ledgered its cost,
debited wisdom, credited pain . . .
My assets remaining are liquid again.

Multiplication, Tabled
or Procreation Inflation
by Michael R. Burch

for the Religious Right

“Be fruitful and multiply”—
great advice, for a fruitfly!
But for women and men,
simple Simons, say, “WHEN!”

honeybee
by michael r. burch

love was a little treble thing—
prone to sing
and sometimes to sting

honeydew, honeydont
by michael r. burch

I sampled honeysuckle
and it made my taste buds buckle!

Dry Hump
by Michael R. Burch

You came to me as rain breaks on the desert
when every flower springs to life at once,
but joy's a wan illusion to the expert:
the Bedouin has learned how not to want.

Housman was right ...
by Michael R. Burch

It's true that life’s not much to lose,
so why not hang out on a cloud?
It’s just the bon voyage is hard
and the objections loud.

Long Division
by Michael R. Burch

All things become one
Through death’s long division
And perfect precision.

Untitled

Hellen Keller saw more than the stellar-
visioned and the televisioned.
—Michael R. Burch

Irony lies
beyond the surmise
and surprise
of the blind and unwise.
—Michael R. Burch

Ring-a-Ling Bling
by Michael R. Burch

The ring
thing
is mostly bling.

Determining an individual athlete's greatness by championship rings (i.e., team success) makes no sense to me and seems disrespectful to all-time greats like Ernie Banks, Charles Barkley, Elgin Baylor, Dick Butkus, Ty Cobb, Michelle Kwan, Karl Malone, Dan Marino, Marta (who may be the greatest female soccer player of all time), Barry Sanders, John Stockton, Fran Tarkenton and Ted Williams. Perhaps the best example is the player most cited for rings these days: Michael Jordan. In reality, Jordan didn't win a ring his first six years and was 0-6 against Larry Bird and the Celtics in the playoffs. Does that make Larry Bird the NBA GOAT, or did he simply have better teammates? The answer seems obvious. Jordan only began to win rings after he was joined by outstanding players like Scottie Pippen, Horace Grant, et al. Thus individuals can be all-time greats without having team success.



LESS HEROIC COUPLETS

Less Heroic Couplets: Murder Most Fowl!
by Michael R. Burch

“Murder most foul!”
cried the mouse to the owl.

“Friend, I’m no sinner;
you’re merely my dinner.

As you fall on my sword,
Take it up with the Lord!”

the wise owl replied
as the tasty snack died.

Please note that the wise old owl exonerated William Blake's tyger and placed the blame where it is properly due, with the Creator of owls and tygers.

Less Heroic Couplets: Meal Deal
by Michael R. Burch

Love is a splendid ideal
(at least till it costs us a meal).

Less Heroic Couplets: Civility
by Michael R. Burch

Civility
is the ability
to disagree
agreeably.

Less Heroic Couplets: Sweet Tarts
by Michael R. Burch

Love, beautiful but fatal to many bewildered hearts,
commands us to be faithful, then tempts us with sweets and tarts.
(If I were younger, I might mention
you’re such a temptation.)

NOTE: In an attempt to demonstrate that not all couplets are heroic, I have created a series of poems called “Less Heroic Couplets.” I believe even poets should abide by truth-in-advertising laws! — Michael R. Burch

Less Heroic Couplets: Marketing 101
by Michael R. Burch

Building her brand, she disrobes,
naked, except for her earlobes.

Less Heroic Couplets: Miss Bliss
by Michael R. Burch

Domestic “bliss”?
Best to swing and miss!

Less Heroic Couplets: Self-ish
by Michael R. Burch

Let’s not pretend we “understand” other elves
As long as we remain mysteries to ourselves.

Less Heroic Couplets: Mate Check
by Michael R. Burch

Love is an ache hearts willingly secure
then break the bank to cure.

Less Heroic Couplets: Word to the Unwise
by Michael R. Burch

I wanted to be good as gold,
but being good, as I’ve been told,
requires something, discipline,
I simply have no interest in!

Less Heroic Couplets: Questionable Credentials
by Michael R. Burch

Poet? Critic? Dilettante?
Do you know what’s good, or do you merely flaunt?

Published by Asses of Parnassus (the first poem in the April 2017 issue)

Less Heroic Couplets: Shreditors
by Michael R. Burch

Editors? Shreditors!
Those out-of-their-head-itors!
They offer—how dare they?—
to test, measure, weigh
my pluperfect ART!
When does PUBLICATION start?

Less Heroic Couplets: Rejection Slip
by Michael R. Burch

pour Melissa Balmain

Whenever my writing gets rejected,
I always wonder how the rejecter got elected.
Are we exchanging at the same Bourse?
(Excepting present company, of course!)

I consider the term “rejection slip” to be a double entendre. When editors reject my poems, did I slip up, or did they? Is their slip showing, or is mine?

Less Heroic Couplets: People From Porlock
by Michael R. Burch

These people from Porlock are at it again—
I strive to create; they insist, “Be my friend!”

That last gabby vendor was a troublesome bloke—
thus my latest masterpiece just went up in smoke!

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

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

Their volume’s impressive, it’s true ...
but somehow it all seems “much ado.”

Less Heroic Couplets: Dear Pleader
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

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

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: Relative Masses
by Michael R. Burch

Mr. Einstein was wrong about relative masses:
my kinfolk lose E while increasing their asses!

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.

Less Heroic Couplets: Gilded Silence
by Michael R. Burch

Golden silence reigned supreme
in her nightmare and my dream.

Flight
by Michael R. Burch

It is the nature of loveliness to vanish
as butterfly wings, batting against nothingness
seek transcendence ...

Originally published by Hibiscus (India)

Bed Head I
by Michael R. Burch

for and after Richard Thomas Moore

“Early to bed, early to rise”
makes a man wish some men weren’t so wise
(or least had the decency to tell pleasing lies).

Bed Head II
by Michael R. Burch

for and after Richard Thomas Moore

“Early to bed, early to rise”
makes a man wish
wise old Ben told sweet lies.

Ars Brevis, Proofreading Longa
by Michael R. Burch

Poets may labor from sun to sun,
but their editor's work is never done.

Arse Brevis, Emendacio Longa
by Michael R. Burch

The Donald may tweet from sun to sun,
but his spellchecker’s work is never done.

Less Heroic Couplets: Clover
by Michael R. Burch

It’ll soon be over
(clover?)

Less Heroic Couplets: Attention Span Gap
by Michael R. Burch

Better not to live, than live too long:
The world prefers a brief poem, a short song.



Epigrams about Epigrams

Nod to the Master
by Michael R. Burch

If every witty thing that’s said were true,
Oscar Wilde, the world would worship You!

Brief Fling I
by Michael R. Burch

"Epigram"
means cram,
then scram.

Brief Fling II
by Michael R. Burch

To write an epigram, cram.
If you lack wit, scram!

Brief Fling III
by Michael R. Burch

No one gives a damn about my epigram?
And yet they’ll spend billions on Boy George and Wham!
Do they have any idea just how hard I cram?

The Whole of Wit
by Michael R. Burch

for and after Richard Thomas Moore

If brevity is the soul of wit
then brevity and levity
are the whole of it.

The Po' Biz Explained
by Michael R. Burch

Poets may labor from sun to sun,
but their editors' work is never done.

The editor’s work is never done.
The critic adjusts his cummerbund.

While the critic adjusts his cummerbund,
the audience exits to mingle and slum.

As the audience exits to mingle and slum,
the anthologist rules, a pale jury of one.

This poem was written in response to the question: “What’s your favorite rhyme to rhyme?”

Time to Rhyme
by Michael R. Burch

Rhyme is a function of sound over time,
so I like to rhyme “time” with “rhyme.”



Parodies by Michael R. Burch

Me?
Whee!
(I stole this poem
From Muhammad Ali.)
—Michael R. Burch

The poem above was written in response to the Quora question: “Can you write a poem titled “Me”?

Fahr an' Ice
by Michael R. Burch

From what I know of death, I'll side with those
who'd like to have a say in how it goes:
just make mine cool, cool rocks (twice drowned in likker),
and real fahr off, instead of quicker.

(Apologies to Robert Frost and Ogden Nash!)

Caveat Spender
by Michael R. Burch

It’s better not to speculate
"continually" on who is great.
Though relentless awe’s
a Célèbre Cause,
please reserve some time for the contemplation
of the perils of
EXAGGERATION.



The Not-So-Heroic Stoic, or, A la Cartesian

i think,
therefore i question
if, who and what i am.
—michael r. burch

i think,
therefore i guess
who the hell i am
on this hellish quest.
—michael r. burch

i think,
therefore i postulate:
Fate
ain’t so great.
—michael r. burch

i think,
therefore i am
confused
and unenthused.
—michael r. burch

i think,
therefore i am
not a fan
of THE MAN.
—michael r. burch

i think,
therefore i am
puzzled
addled
frazzled
befuddled
—michael r. burch

i thunk
THEREFORE
i am sunk
...
like a frog
in a bog,
KERPLUNK!
—michael r. burch

The greatest philosophers are better known for their questions, doubts and mistakes than for what they actually knew. Thus lesser thinkers may want to avoid the hubris of certainty. — Michael R. Burch



Athenian Epitaphs

Passerby,
Tell the Spartans we lie
Lifeless at Thermopylae:
Dead at their word,
Obedient to their command.
Have they heard?
Do they understand?
—Michael R. Burch, after Simonides

They observed our fearful fetters, marched against encroaching darkness.
Now we gratefully commemorate their excellence: Bravely, they died for us.
―Michael R. Burch, after Mnasalcas

Here he lies in state tonight: great is his Monument!
Yet Ares cares not, neither does War relent.
—Michael R. Burch, after Anacreon

Mariner, do not ask whose tomb this may be,
But go with good fortune: I wish you a kinder sea.
—Michael R. Burch, after Plato

We who left behind the Aegean’s bellowings
Now sleep peacefully here on the mid-plains of Ecbatan:
Farewell, dear Athens, nigh to Euboea,
Farewell, dear sea!
—Michael R. Burch, after Plato

Blame not the gale, nor the inhospitable sea-gulf, nor friends’ tardiness,
Mariner! Just man’s foolhardiness.
—Michael R. Burch, after Leonidas of Tarentum

Does my soul abide in heaven, or hell?
Only the sea gulls in their high, lonely circuits may tell.
—Michael R. Burch, after Glaucus

Since I'm dead sea-enclosed Cyzicus shrouds my bones.
Faretheewell, O my adoptive land that suckled me and reared me;
Once again I take rest at your breast.
—Michael R. Burch, after Erycius

Stripped of her stripling, if asked, she’d confess:
“I am now less than nothingness.”
Michael R. Burch, after Diotimus

There are more Athenian Epitaphs later on this page.

Sappho, fragment 42
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Eros harrows my heart:
wild winds whipping desolate mountains,
uprooting oaks.

Sappho, fragment 130
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

May the gods prolong the night
  —yes, let it last forever!—
as long as you sleep in my sight.

Sappho, fragment 155
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A short transparent frock?
It's just my luck
your lips were made to mock!

Mnemosyne was stunned into astonishment when she heard honey-tongued Sappho,
wondering how mortal men merited a tenth Muse.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Sophocles Translations

One of the first great voices to directly question whether human being should give birth was that of Sophocles, around 2,500 years ago ...

Not to have been born is best,
and blessed
beyond the ability of words to express.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It’s a hundred times better not be born;
but if we cannot avoid the light,
the path of least harm is swiftly to return
to death’s eternal night!
—Sophocles, Oedipus at Colonus, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

How happy the soul who speeds back to the Source,
but crowned with peace is the one who never came.
—a Sophoclean passage from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Never to be born may be the biggest boon of all.—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oblivion: What a boon, to lie unbound by pain!—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The happiest life is one empty of thought.—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Consider no man happy till he lies dead, free of pain at last.—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What is worse than death? When death is desired but denied.—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Children anchor their mothers to life.—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How terrible, to see the truth when the truth brings only pain to the seer!—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wisdom outweighs all the world's wealth.—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fortune never favors the faint-hearted.—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wait for evening to appreciate the day's splendor.—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
We need evening to appreciate the day's attractions.—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Evening helps us appreciate the day's attractions.—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
When a man endures nothing but endless miseries, what is the use of hanging on day after day, always edging closer and closer toward death? Anyone who warms his heart with the false glow of flickering hope is a wretch! The noble man should live with honor and die with honor. That's all that can be said.—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

According to Aristotle, it had become so common in ancient Greece to say "It is best not to be born" that it was considered a cliché!



Haiku and Tanka Translations

The butterfly
perfuming its wings
fans the orchid
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Oh, fallen camellias,
if I were you,
I'd leap into the torrent!
― Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Our life here on earth:
to what shall we compare it?
It is not like a rowboat
departing at daybreak,
leaving no trace of us in its wake?
― Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Deepening autumn:
my neighbor,
how does he continue? ...
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

One apple, alone
In the abandoned orchard
reddens for winter
― Patrick Blanche, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come, investigate loneliness!
a solitary leaf
clings to the Kiri tree
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A kite floats
at the same place in the sky
where yesterday it floated ...
― Buson Yosa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Let us arrange
these lovely flowers in the bowl
since there's no rice
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Grasses wilt:
the braking locomotive
grinds to a halt
― Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

An ancient pond,
the frog leaps:
the silver plop and gurgle of water
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Wild geese pass
leaving the emptiness of heaven
revealed
― Takaha Shugyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The first soft snow:
leaves of the awed jonquil
bow low
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Original Haiku by Michael R. Burch

Dark-bosomed clouds
pregnant with heavy thunder ...
the water breaks
—Michael R. Burch

She bathes in silver,
        afloat
on her reflections ...
—Michael R. Burch

Night
and the stars
conspire against me
—Michael R. Burch



The Unforgivable Sin: Rhyming Haiku by Michael R. Burch

Dry leaf flung awry:
bright butterfly,
goodbye!
—Michael R. Burch

A snake in the grass
lies, hissing
Trespass!
—Michael R. Burch

Honeysuckle
blesses my knuckle
with affectionate dew
—Michael R. Burch

My nose nuzzles
honeysuckle’s
sweet nothings
—Michael R. Burch

Late
   fall
all
the golden leaves turn black underfoot:
soot
—Michael R. Burch

My mother’s eyes
acknowledging my imperfection:
dejection
—Michael R. Burch



Iffy Coronavirus Haiku

yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #1
by michael r. burch

plagued by the Plague
i plague the goldfish
with my verse

yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #2
by michael r. burch

sunflowers
hang their heads
embarrassed by their coronas

I wrote this poem after having a sunflower arrangement delivered to my mother, who is in an assisted living center and can’t have visitors due to the coronavirus pandemic. I have been informed the poem breaks haiku rules about personification, etc.

homework: yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #3
by michael r. burch

dim bulb overhead,
my silent companion:
still imitating the noonday sun?

yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #4
by michael r. burch

Spring fling—
children string flowers
into their face masks

yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #5
by michael r. burch

the Thought counts:
our lips and fingers
insulated by plexiglass ...

yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #6
by michael r. burch

masks, masks
everywhere
and not a straw to drink ...

Dark Cloud, Silver Lining
by Michael R. Burch

Every corona has a silver lining:
I’m too far away to hear your whining,
and despite my stormy demeanor,
my hands have never been cleaner!

New World Order (last in a series and perhaps of a species)
by Michael R. Burch

The days of the dandelions dawn ...
soon man will be gone:
fertilizer.



Limericks

Ass-tronomical
by Michael R. Burch

Einstein, the frizzy-haired,
proved E equals MC squared.
Thus all mass decreases
as activity ceases?
Not my mass, my ass declared!

Dot Spotted
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a leopardess, Dot,
who indignantly answered: "I’ll not!
The gents are impressed
with the way that I’m dressed.
I wouldn’t change even one spot."

Tote the Note
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a dromedary
who befriended a crafty canary.
Budgie said, "You can’t sing,
but now, here’s the thing—
just think of the tunes you can carry!"

Clyde Lied, or, Honeymoon Not-So-Sweet
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a mockingbird, Clyde,
who bragged of his prowess, but lied.
To his new wife he sighed,
"When again, gentle bride?"
"Nevermore!" bright-eyed Raven replied.

The Trouble with Elephants: a Word to the Wise
by Michael R. Burch

An elephant never forgets
which is why they don’t make the best pets:
Jumbo may well out-live you,
but he’ll never forgive you,
no matter how sincere your regrets!

The Better Man
by Michael R. Burch
　
Dear Ed: I don’t understand why
you will publish this other guy—
when I’m brilliant, devoted,
one hell of a poet!
Yet you publish Anonymous. Fie!

Fie! A pox on your head if you favor
this poet who’s dubious, unsavor
y, inconsistent in texts,
no address (I checked!):
since he’s plagiarized Unknown, I’ll wager!

A much-needed screed against licentious insects
by Michael R. Burch

after and apologies to Robert Schechter

Army ants? ARMY ants?
Yet so undisciplined to not wear pants?
How terribly rude
to wage war in the nude!
We moralists call them SMARMY ants!

Of Tetley's and V-2's
by Michael R. Burch

The English are very hospitable,
but tea-less, alas, they grow pitiable ...
or pitiless, rather,
and quite in a lather!
O bother, they're more than formidable.
—"Of Tetley’s and V-2's," or, "Why Not to Bomb the Brits" by Michael R. Burch

Honeymoon Not-So-Sweet
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a mockingbird, Clyde,
who bragged of his prowess, but lied.
To his new wife he sighed,
"When again, gentle bride?"
"Nevermore!" bright-eyed Raven replied.

Time In
by Michael R. Burch

Hawking, who makes my head spin,
says time may flow backward. I grin,
imagining the surprise
in my mothers’ eyes
when I head for the womb once again!

Time Out
by Michael R. Burch

Hawking’s "Brief History of Time"
is such a relief! How sublime
that time, in reverse,
may un-write this verse
and un-spend my last thin dime!

The Beat Goes On (and On and On and On ...)
by Michael R. Burch

Bored stiff by his board-stiff attempts
at “meter,” I crossly concluded
I’d use each iamb
in lieu of a lamb,
bedtimes when I’m under-quaaluded.

Originally published by Grand Little Things

Early Warning System (I)
by Michael R. Burch

A hairy thick troglodyte, Mary,
squinched dingles excessively airy.
To her family’s deep shame,
their condo became
the first cave to employ a canary!

Early Warning System (II)
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a troglodyte, Mary,
whose poots were impressive, but scary.
To her family’s deep shame,
their condo became
the first cave to employ a canary!

Low-T Hell
by Michael R. Burch

I’m living in low-T hell ...
My get-up has gone: Oh, swell!
I need to write checks
if I want to have sex,
and my love life depends on a gel!

Baked Alaskan
by Michael R. Burch

There is a strange yokel so flirty
she makes whores seem icons of purity.
With all her winkin' and blinkin'
Palin seems to be "thinkin'"—
"Ah culd save th' free world 'cause ah'm purty!"

Going Rogue in Rouge
by Michael R. Burch

It'll be hard to polish that apple
enough to make her seem palatable.
Though she's sweeter than Snapple
how can my mind grapple
with stupidity so nearly infallible?

Pls refudiate
by Michael R. Burch

"Refudiate" this,
miffed, misunderstood Ms!—
Shakespeare, you're not
(more like Yoda, but hot).
Your grammar's atrocious;
Great Poets would know this.

You lack any plan
save to flatten Iran
like some cute Mini-Me
cloned from G. W. B.

Admit it, Ms. Palin!
Stop your winkin' and wailin'—
only "heroes" like Nero
fiddle sparks at Ground Zero.

Eerie Dearie
by Michael R. Burch

A trembling young auditor, white
as a sheet, like a ghost in the night,
saw his dreams, his career
in a poof!, disappear,
and then, strangely Enronic, his wife.

NOTE: Fortune named Enron "America's Most Innovative Company" for six consecutive years, but the company went bankrupt and vanished after its accounting practices were determined to be fraudulent.



The Church Gets the Burch Rod

If God
is good
half the Bible
is libel.
—Michael R. Burch

Life’s saving graces are love, pleasure, laughter ...
wisdom, it seems, is for the Hereafter.
—Michael R. Burch

I have my doubts about your God and his “love”:
If one screams below, what the hell is “Above”?
—Michael R. Burch

With the clumsy cobbling of the pagan Greek "hell" into the Bible, the prophets were replaced by profits.—Michael R. Burch

Can a true religion be based on lies?—Michael R. Burch

Conformists of a feather
flock together.
—Michael R. Burch

Skeptics say the Bible is immoral but I disagree: If we always do the opposite of what Jehovah did, we can lead exemplary lives full of kindness, compassion and the pursuit of justice. — Michael R. Burch

God and his "profits" could never agree
on any gospel acceptable to an intelligent flea.
—Michael R. Burch

If God has the cattle on a thousand hills,
why does he need my tithes to pay his bills?
—Michael R. Burch

since GOD created u so gullible
how did u conclude HE's so lovable?
—Michael R. Burch

Life is pointless, then you die.
Never ask the good LORD why.
His plan’s divine. You’re a mayfly.
—Michael R. Burch

• The best tonic for other people's bad ideas is to think for oneself.—Michael R. Burch
• Religion is the difficult process of choosing the least malevolent invisible friends.—Michael R. Burch
• Most Christians make their God seem like the Devil. Atheists and agnostics at least give him the "benefit of the doubt."—Michael R. Burch
• If one screams below, what the hell is “Above”?—Michael R. Burch
• Hell hath no fury like a hypocritical moralist out to control other people's behavior.—Michael R. Burch
• Religion is the dopiate of the sheeple.—Michael R. Burch
• In three words, I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on.—Robert Frost
• In six words, I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on, until it doesn't.—Michael R. Burch
• An ideal that cannot be realized is, in the end, just wishful thinking.—Michael R. Burch
• Hell hath no fury like a fundamentalist whose God condemned him for having "impure thoughts."—Michael R. Burch
• The problem with bigots is that they know they're not bigots, just "better."—Michael R. Burch

The Hole-y Bible

The Bible's most inspired passage is 1 Corinthians 13, where the evangelist Paul says Divine Love never condemns, never gives up, and never fails. Unfortunately, all the mythical gods including Jehovah fall far short of that lofty standard.—Michael R. Burch

How can the Bible be "infallible" when from Genesis to Revelation slavery is commanded and condoned, but never condemned?—Michael R. Burch

Can a true religion be based on lies? How can the Bible be "infallible" when from beginning to end it commands and condones but never condemns the satanic institution of slavery?—Michael R. Burch

Can a true religion be based on lies? How can the Bible be "the word of God" when it commands and/or condones the worst crimes known to humanity: slavery, sex slavery, infanticide, matricide, ethnic cleansing, genocide, and the ghastly stoning to death of rape victims and child brides who didn't bleed sufficiently on their wedding nights to prove their virginity?—Michael R. Burch

Can a true religion be based on lies? The Bible says God can never be seen and has been seen repeatedly; that it is a shame for a man to have long hair but that men consecrated to God like Samson and Samuel never cut their hair; that God wanted men to be monogamous but also endorsed sex slavery,  that trees grew on earth before the sun was created, and so on.—Michael R. Burch

The Christian Bible quickly evolved from an empty grave and a big question “Mark” — pardon the pun — to outrageous claims of Jesus flying into the clouds like Superman.—Michael R. Burch

The original gospel of Mark ended with a huge question mark. — Michael R. Burch

Oh, what treacherous webs they weave when "theologians" practice to deceive. —Michael R. Burch

(The Hebrew prophets of the Old Testament never mentioned "hell," "purgatory" or "limbo." These were the creation of deceitful Christian theologians: very good for terrorizing people into converting and giving money to the theologians' churches.)

The orthodox Christian religion is fundamentally dishonest, pardon the pun. Christianity calls evil "good" when its diabolical god does evil things, such as mass-murdering women and children, and either causing or allowing billions of souls to be eternally tortured in a purposeless "hell" for guessing wrong about which irrational religion to believe. Eternal torture for guessing wrong makes the Christian "god" infinitely worse than the Devil.—Michael R. Burch

Why I Left the Religious Right
by Michael R. Burch

He's got Jesus's name on a wallet insert
and "Hell is for Queers" on the back of his shirt
and he upholds the Law,
for grace has a flaw:
the Church must have someone to drag through the dirt.

The Least of These ...

What you
do
to
the refugee
you
do
unto
Me!
—Jesus Christ, translation/paraphrase by Michael R. Burch

Hell has been hellishly overdone!
Why blame such horrors on God's only Son
when Jehovah and his prophets never mentioned it once?
—Michael R. Burch

(Bible scholars agree: the word "hell" has been removed from the Old Testaments of the more accurate modern Bible translations. And the few New Testament verses that mention "hell" are obvious mistranslations.)

Not Elves, Exactly
by Michael R. Burch

Something there is that likes a wall,
that likes it spiked and likes it tall,

that likes its pikes’ sharp rows of teeth
and doesn’t mind its victims’ grief

(wherever they come from, far or wide)
as long as they fall on the other side.

Why I Left the Religious Right
by Michael R. Burch

He's got Jesus's name on a wallet insert
and "Hell is for Queers" on the back of his shirt
and he upholds the Law,
for grace has a flaw:
the Church must have someone to drag through the dirt.

Double Cross
by Michael R. Burch

Come to the cross;
contemplate all loss
and how little was gained
by those who remained
uncrucified.

Farewell to Faith I
by Michael R. Burch

What we want is relief
from life’s grief and despair:
what we want’s not “belief”
but just not to be there.

Farewell to Faith II
by Michael R. Burch

Confronted by the awesome thought of death,
to never suffer, and be free of grief,
we wonder: What’s the use of drawing breath?
Why seek relief
from the bible’s Thief,
who ripped off Eve then offered her a leaf?

Certainly, saints, the world’s insane:
If I tell the truth they attack me,
f I lie they believe me.
—Kabir Das, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Keep the slanderer near you, build him a hut near your house.
For, when you lack soap and water, he will scour you clean.
—Kabir Das, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Without looking into our hearts,
how can we find Paradise?
—Kabir Das, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Clodhoppers and Hopers
by Michael R. Burch

If you trust the Christian “god”
you’re—like Adumb—a clod.



Redefinitions

Faith: falling into the same old claptrap.—Michael R. Burch
Religion: the ties that blind.—Michael R. Burch
Lingerie: visual foreplay.—Michael R. Burch
Trickle down economics: an especially pungent golden shower.—Michael R. Burch

There are more redefinitions later on this page.



Poetic Definitions

Sex Hex
by Michael R. Burch

after Richard Thomas Moore

Love’s full of cute paradoxes
(and highly acute poxes).

Love
by Michael R. Burch

Love is either wholly folly,
or fully holy.

Death
by Michael R. Burch

Death is the ultimate finality
and banality
of reality.



Epigrams for Poets and Epigrams about Poets

Confetti for Ferlinghetti
by Michael R. Burch

Lawrence Ferlinghetti
is the only poet whose name rhymes with “spaghetti”
and, while not being quite as rich as J. Paul Getty,
he still deserves some confetti
for selling a million books while being a modern Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

NOTE: Both Ferlinghetti and Rossetti were painter-poets.

US Verse, after Auden
by Michael R. Burch

“Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.”

Verse has small value in our Unisphere,
nor is it fit for windy revelation.
It cannot legislate less taxing fears;
it cannot make us, several, a nation.
Enumerator of our sins and dreams,
it pens its cryptic numbers, and it sings,
a little quaintly, of the ways of love.
(It seems of little use for lesser things.)

NOTE: The Unisphere mentioned is a large stainless steel representation of the earth; it was commissioned to celebrate the beginning of the space age for the 1964 New York World's Fair.

Why the Kid Gloves Came Off
by Michael R. Burch

for Lemuel Ibbotson

It's hard to be a man of taste
in such a waste:
hence the lambaste.

Fahr an' Ice
by Michael R. Burch

for and after Robert Frost and Ogden Nash

From what I know of death, I'll side with those
who'd like to have a say in how it goes:
just make mine cool, cool rocks (twice drowned in likker),
and real fahr off, instead of quicker.

Housman was right ...
by Michael R. Burch

It's true that life’s not much to lose,
so why not hang out on a cloud?
It’s just the bon voyage is hard
and the objections loud.

Long Division
by Michael R. Burch

for and after Laura Riding Jackson

All things become one
Through death’s long division
And perfect precision.

Bittersight
by Michael R. Burch

for Abu al-Ala Al-Ma'arri

To be plagued with sight
in the Land of the Blind,
—to know birth is death
and that Death is kind—
is to be flogged like Eve
(stripped, sentenced and fined)
because evil is “good”
as some “god” has defined.

A Passing Observation about Thinking Outside the Box
by Michael R. Burch

William Blake had no public, and yet he’s still read.
His critics are dead.

The Difference
by Michael R. Burch

The chimneysweeps
will weep
for Blake,
who wrote his poems
for their dear sake.

The critics clap,
polite, for you.
Another poem
for poets,
Whooo!

Blake Take
by Michael R. Burch

we became ashamed of our bodies;
we became ashamed of sweet sex;
we became ashamed of the LORD
with each terrible CURSE and HEX;
we became ashamed of the planet
(it’s such a slovenly hovel);
and we came to see, in the end,
that we really agreed with the devil.

tyger, lamb, free love, etc.
by michael r. burch

for and after william blake

the tiger’s a ferocious slayer.
he has no say in it.
hence, ur Creator’s a shit.

the lamb led to the slaughter
extends her neck to the block and bit.
she has no say in it.

so don’t be a nitwit:
drink, carouse and revel!
why obey the Devil?

Professor Poets
by Michael R. Burch

Professor poets remind me of drones
chasing the Classical queen's aging bones.
With bottle-thick glasses they still see to write —
droning on, endlessly buzzing all night.
And still in our classrooms their tomes are decreed ...
Perhaps they're too busy with buzzing to breed?



Miscellanea

Fascists of a feather
flock together.
—Michael R. Burch

Love has the value
of gold, if it’s true;
if not, of rue.
—Michael R. Burch

What would Mother Teresa do?
Do it too!
—Michael R. Burch

Delicacy
by Michael R. Burch

Your love is as delicate
as a butterfly cleaning its wings,
as soft as the predicate the hummingbird sings
to itself, gently murmuring—
“Fly! Fly! Fly!”
Your love is the string
soaring kites untie.

Medusa
by Michael R. Burch

Friends, beware
of her iniquitous hair—
long, ravenblack & melancholy.

Many suitors drowned there—
lost, unaware
of the length & extent of their folly.

The Greatest of These ...
by Michael R. Burch

The hands that held me tremble.
The arms that lifted
                              fall.

Angelic flesh, now parchment,
is held together with gauze.

But her undimmed eyes still embrace me;
there infinity can be found.

I can almost believe such love
will reach me, underground.

Sumer is icumen in
a modern English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Sumer is icumen in
Lhude sing achu!
Groweth sed
And bloweth hed
And buyeth med?
Cuccu!

Piecemeal
by Michael R. Burch

And so it begins—the ending.
The narrowing veins, the soft tissues rending.
Your final solution is pending.
(A pale Piggy-Wiggy
will discount your demise as no biggie.)

Lance-Lot
by Michael R. Burch

Preposterous bird!
Inelegant! Absurd!

Until the great & mighty heron
brandishes his fearsome sword.

Playmates
by Michael R. Burch

When you were my playmate and I was yours,
we spent endless hours with simple toys,
and the sorrows and cares of our indentured days
were uncomprehended . . . far, far away . . .
for the temptations and trials we had yet to face
were lost in the shadows of an unventured maze.

These are the opening lines of the second poem I remember writing, around age 13 or 14.



MICHELANGELO TRANSLATIONS

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni (1475-1564) was an Italian sculptor, painter, architect and poet. He and his fellow Florentine, Leonardo da Vinci, were rivals for the title of the archetypal Renaissance man. Michelangelo is considered by many to be the greatest artist of all time.

I saw the angel in the marble and freed him.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch
I hewed away the coarse walls imprisoning the lovely apparition.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch
Each stone contains a statue; it is the sculptor's task to release it.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch

In the end it’s only the best poems that matter. But the best poems come from executing everything as close to perfection as possible. Michelangelo had to make every stroke of the chisel work — as close to perfection as possible — for the angel to emerge from the marble. Talent had to be abetted by craftsmanship. — Michael R. Burch

Poetry, like every art, requires both artistry and craftsmanship. Michelangelo the artist saw the angel in the marble. Michelangelo the craftsman had to get every detail correct in order for the angel to emerge.— Michael R. Burch

The danger is not aiming too high and missing, but aiming too low and hitting the mark.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch

AIM HIGH

The danger is not aiming too high and missing, but aiming too low and hitting the mark.—Michelangelo

If we shoot for the stars
to only end up on Mars,
that's still quite a trip.
The choice is ours.
—Michael R. Burch

Our greatness is bounded only by our horizons.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch

Trifles create perfection, yet perfection is no trifle.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch
Genius is infinitely patient, and infinitely painstaking.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch
If you knew how hard I worked, you wouldn't call it "genius."—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch

Be at peace, for God did not create us to abandon us.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch
I live and love by God's peculiar light.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch
My soul's staircase to heaven is earth's loveliness.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch
God grant that I always desire more than my capabilities.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch

I have never found salvation in nature; rather I love cities.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch
He who follows will never surpass.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch
Beauty is what lies beneath superfluities.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch
I criticize via creation, not by fault-finding.—Michelangelo, translation by Michael R. Burch



Rumi Translations

Birdsong
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Birdsong relieves
my deepest griefs:
now I'm just as ecstatic as they,
but with nothing to say!
Please universe,
rehearse
your poetry
through me!

Beyond
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Don’t demand union:
there’s a closer closeness, beyond.
The instant love descends to rest in me,
many beings become One.
In a single grain of wheat ten thousand sheaves germinate.
Within the needle’s eye innumerable stars radiate.

The Field
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Far beyond sermons of right and wrong there’s a sunlit field.
I'll meet you there.
When the soul lazes in such lush grass
the world is too full for discussion.

Two Insomnias (I)
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When I’m with you, we’re up all night;
when we're apart, I’m unable to sleep.
Thank God for both insomnias
and their inspiration.

Two Insomnias (II)
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When I’m with you, we’re up all night.
When we part, I’m unable to sleep.
I’m grateful for both insomnias
and the difference maker.

I choose to love you in silence
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I choose to love you in silence
where there is no rejection;

to possess you in loneliness
where you are mine alone;

to adore you from a distance
which diminishes pain;

to kiss you in the wind
stealthier than my lips;

to embrace you in my dreams
where you are limitless ...

I Prefer
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I prefer to love you in silence,
for in silence there is no rejection.

I prefer to possess you in loneliness,
for in loneliness you are mine alone.

I prefer to adore you from a distance,
because distance diminishes pain.

I prefer to kiss you in the wind,
because the wind is subtler than my lips.

I prefer to embrace you in my dreams,
because in my dreams you are limitless.

Untitled Rumi Epigrams

I am not this hair,
nor this thin sheathe of skin;
I am the Soul that abides within.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

We come whirling from nothingness, scattering stardust.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why should I brood, with every petal of my being blossoming?—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why should I brood when every petal of my being is blossoming?—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Elevate your words, not their volume. Rain grows flowers, not thunder.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bare rock is barren. Be compost, so wildflowers spring up everywhere.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I want to sing as the birds sing, heedless of who hears or heckles.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your heart’s candle is ready to be kindled.
Your soul’s void is waiting to be filled.
You can feel it, can’t you?
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your heart’s an immense ocean. Go discover yourself in its depths.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The only prevailing beauty is the heart’s.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This is love: to fly toward a mysterious sky,
to cause ten thousand veils to fall.
First, to stop clinging to life,
then to step out, without feet ...
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

What you seek also pursues you.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Love renders reason senseless.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Love is the bridge between your Heart and Infinity.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your task is not to build love, but to bring down all the barriers you built against it.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Let yourself be guided by the strange magnetism of what you truly love:
It will not lead you astray.
The lion is most majestic when stalking prey.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The moon shines most bright
when it embraces the night.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The moon shines brightest
when the night is darkest.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The moon is brightest when it embraces the night.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
If your heart is light, it will light your way home.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Are you still in the dark that your light lights the worlds?—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why do you remain prisoner when the door's ajar?—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why do you remain prisoner when the door's wide open?—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As you begin to follow the Way, the Way appears.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, come, fellow traveler. Wanderer, worshiper, itinerant: it makes no difference. Ours is no caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken ten thousand vows. Come yet again, come, come.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Forget security!
Live by the perilous sea.
Destroy your reputation, however glorious.
Become notorious.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Don’t be satisfied with stories of others’ accomplishments. Create your own legend.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I was so drunk my lips got lost requesting a kiss.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Eyes identify love. Feet pursue.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Everything beautiful was made for the beholder.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The essence of the rose abides not in the perfume but the thorns.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ignite yourself, then seek those able to fan your flames.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
When will you begin the long trek toward reconciliation with yourself?—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There is eloquence in silence. Stop weaving and the pattern is perfected.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The universe lies within you, not without. Look within: everything you desire, you already are.—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You must understand
“one” and “two”
because one and one make two.
But you
must also understand
“and.”
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Martial Translations

You ask me why I've sent you no new verses?
There might be reverses.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You ask me to recite my poems to you?
I know how you'll "recite" them, if I do.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You ask me why I choose to live elsewhere?
You're not there.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You ask me why I love fresh country air?
You're not befouling it there.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You ask me why I love fresh country air?
You're not befouling it, mon frère.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

1.
You’ll find good poems, but mostly poor and worse,
my peers being “diverse” in their verse.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

2.
Some good poems here, but most not worth a curse:
such is the crapshoot of a book of verse.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Sunt bona, sunt quaedam mediocria, sunt mala plura
quae legis hic: aliter non fit, Auite, liber.

He undertook to be a doctor
but turned out to be an undertaker.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Chirurgus fuerat, nunc est uispillo Diaulus:
coepit quo poterat clinicus esse modo.

1.
The book you recite from, Fidentinus, was my own,
till your butchering made it yours alone.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

2.
The book you recite from I once called my own,
but you read it so badly, it’s now yours alone.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

3.
You read my book as if you wrote it,
but you read it so badly I’ve come to hate it.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Recite my epigrams? I decline,
for then they’d be yours, not mine.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I do not love you, but cannot say why.
I do not love you: no reason, no lie.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You’re young and lovely, wealthy too,
but that changes nothing: you're a shrew.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You never wrote a poem,
yet criticize mine?
Stop abusing me or write something fine
of your own!
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

He starts everything but finishes nothing;
thus I suspect there's no end to his fucking.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You dine in great magnificence
while offering guests a pittance.
Sextus, did you invite
friends to dinner tonight
to impress us with your enormous appetite?
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You alone own prime land, dandy!
Gold, money, the finest porcelain—you alone!
The best wines of the most famous vintages—you alone!
Discrimination, taste and wit—you alone!
You have it all—who can deny that you alone are set for life?
But everyone has had your wife—
she is never alone!
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Epitaph for the child Erotion

Lie lightly on her, grass and dew ...
So little weight she placed on you.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I must admit I'm partial
to Martial.
—Michael R. Burch



Pablo Neruda Translations

You can crop all the flowers but you cannot detain spring.
—Pablo Neruda, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Every Day You Play (Excerpt)
by Pablo Neruda
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Every day you play with Infinity’s rays.
Exquisite visitor, you arrive with the flowers and the water!
You are vastly more than this immaculate head I clasp lovingly
like a cornucopia, every day, with ecstatic hands ...

As if you were set on fire from within,
the moon whitens your skin.
—Pablo Neruda, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The Book of Questions
by Pablo Neruda
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Is the rose nude
or is that just how she dresses?

Why do trees conceal
their spectacular roots?

Who hears the confession
of the getaway car?

Is there anything sadder
than a train standing motionless in the rain?

Please understand that when I awaken weeping
it's because I dreamed I was a lost child
searching the leaf-heaps for your hands in the darkness.
—Pablo Neruda, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Love Sonnet XI
by Pablo Neruda
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
I stalk the streets, silent and starving.
Bread does not satisfy me; dawn does not divert me
from my relentless pursuit of your fluid spoor.

While nothing can save us from death,
still love can redeem each breath.
—Pablo Neruda, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Love Sonnet XVII
by Pablo Neruda
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I do not love you like coral or topaz,
or the blazing hearth’s incandescent white flame;
I love you like phantoms embraced in the dark ...
secretly, in shadows, unrevealed & unnamed.

I'm no longer in love with her, that's certain ...
yet perhaps I love her still.
Love is so short, forgetting so long!
—Pablo Neruda, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Tonight I will write the saddest lines
by Pablo Neruda
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Tonight I will write the saddest lines.
I will write, for example, “The night is less bright
and a few stars shiver in the distance
as I remember her unwarranted light ...”



Leonardo da Vinci Translations

Once we have flown, we will forever walk the earth with our eyes turned heavenward, for there we were and will always long to return.—Leonardo da Vinci, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The great achievers rarely relaxed and let things happen to them. They set out and kick-started whatever happened.—Leonardo da Vinci, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Nothing enables authority like silence.—Leonardo da Vinci, translation by Michael R. Burch

The greatest deceptions spring from men’s own opinions.—Leonardo da Vinci, translation by Michael R. Burch

There are three classes of people: Those who see by themselves. Those who see only when they are shown. Those who refuse to see.—Leonardo da Vinci, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Blinding ignorance misleads us. Myopic mortals, open your eyes!—Leonardo da Vinci, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It is easier to oppose evil from the beginning than at the end.—Leonardo da Vinci, translation by Michael R. Burch

Small minds continue to shrink, but those whose hearts are firm and whose consciences endorse their conduct, will persevere until death.—Leonardo da Vinci, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I am impressed with the urgency of doing. Knowledge is not enough; we must apply ourselves. Wanting and being willing are insufficient; we must act.—Leonardo da Vinci, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Time is sufficient for anyone who uses it wisely.—Leonardo da Vinci, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Where the spirit does not aid and abet the hand there is no art.—Leonardo da Vinci, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Necessity is the mistress of mother nature's inventions.—Leonardo da Vinci, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Nature has no effect without cause, no invention without necessity.—Leonardo da Vinci, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Did Leonardo da Vinci anticipate Darwin with his comments about Nature and necessity being the mistress of her inventions? Yes, and his studies of comparative anatomy, including the intestines, led da Vinci to say explicitly that "apes, monkeys and the like" are not merely related to humans but are "almost of the same species." He was, indeed, a man ahead of his time, by at least 350 years.

Excerpts from “Paragone of Poetry and Painting” and Other Writings
by Leonardo da Vinci, circa 1500
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Sculpture requires light, received from above,
while a painting contains its own light and shade.

Painting is the more beautiful, the more imaginative, the more copious,
while sculpture is merely the more durable.

Painting encompasses infinite possibilities
which sculpture cannot command.

But you, O Painter, unless you can make your figures move,
are like an orator who can’t bring his words to life!

While as soon as the Poet abandons nature, he ceases to resemble the Painter;
for if the Poet abandons the natural figure for flowery and flattering speech,
he becomes an orator and is thus neither Poet nor Painter.

Painting is poetry seen but not heard,
while poetry is painting heard but not seen.

And if the Poet calls painting dumb poetry,
the Painter may call poetry blind painting.

Yet poor is the pupil who fails to surpass his master!
Shun those studies in which the work dies with the worker.

Because I find no subject especially useful or pleasing
and because those who preceded me appropriated every useful theme,
I will be like the beggar who comes late to the fair,
who must content himself with other buyers' rejects.
Thus, I will load my humble cart full of despised and rejected merchandise,
the refuse of so many other buyers,
and I will go about distributing it, not in the great cities,
but in the poorer towns,
selling at discounts whatever the wares I offer may be worth.

And what can I do when a woman plucks my heart?
Alas, how she plays me, and yet I must persist!

The Point
by Leonardo da Vinci
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Here forms, colors, the character of the entire universe, contract to a point,
and that point is miraculous, marvelous …
O marvelous, O miraculous, O stupendous Necessity!
By your elegant laws you compel every effect to be the direct result of its cause,
by the shortest path possible.
Such are your miracles!



Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller Translations

#2 - Love Poetry

She says an epigram’s too terse
to reveal her tender heart in verse ...
but really, darling, ain’t the thrill
of a kiss much shorter still?
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

#5 - Criticism

Why don’t I openly criticize the man? Because he’s a friend;
thus I reproach him in silence, as I do my own heart.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

#11 - Holiness

What is holiest? This heart-felt love
binding spirits together, now and forever.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

#12 - Love versus Desire

You love what you have, and desire what you lack
because a rich nature expands, while a poor one retracts.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

#19 - Nymph and Satyr

As shy as the trembling doe your horn frightens from the woods,
she flees the huntsman, fainting, uncertain of love.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

#20 - Desire

What stirs the virgin’s heaving breasts to sighs?
What causes your bold gaze to brim with tears?
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

#23 - The Apex I

Everywhere women yield to men, but only at the apex
do the manliest men surrender to femininity.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

#24 - The Apex II

What do we mean by the highest? The crystalline clarity of triumph
as it shines from the brow of a woman, from the brow of a goddess.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

#25 -Human Life

Young sailors brave the sea beneath ten thousand sails
while old men drift ashore on any bark that avails.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

#35 - Dead Ahead

What’s the hardest thing of all to do?
To see clearly with your own eyes what’s ahead of you.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

#36 - Unexpected Consequence

Friends, before you utter the deepest, starkest truth, please pause,
because straight away people will blame you for its cause.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

#41 - Earth vs. Heaven

By doing good, you nurture humanity;
but by creating beauty, you scatter the seeds of divinity.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Euripides Translations

• Love distills the eyes’ desires, love bewitches the heart with its grace.—Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch
• Fools call wisdom foolishness.—Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch
• One true friend is worth ten thousand kin.—Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch
• Not to speak one’s mind is slavery.—Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch
• I would rather die standing than kneel, a slave.—Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch
• Fresh tears are wasted on old griefs.—Euripides, translation by Michael R. Burch

Euripides was pretty good, wasn't he? I try to translate him in as few words as possible, hoping to stay out of his way.—Michael R. Burch



Bertolt Brecht Translations

Everyone chases the way happiness feels,
unaware how it nips at their heels.
—Bertolt Brecht, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The world of learning takes a crazy turn
when teachers are taught to think and discern!
—Bertolt Brecht, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Unhappy, the land that lacks heroes.
—Bertolt Brecht, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Hungry man, reach for the book:
it's a hook,
a harpoon.
—Bertolt Brecht, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Because things are the way they are,
things can never stay as they were.
—Bertolt Brecht, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

War is like love; true ...
it finds a way through.
—Bertolt Brecht, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

What happens to the hole
when the cheese is no longer whole?
—Bertolt Brecht, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It's easier to rob by setting up a bank
than by threatening the poor clerk.
—Bertolt Brecht, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Do not fear death so much, or strife,
but rather fear the inadequate life.
—Bertolt Brecht, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Dante Translations

Little sparks may ignite great Infernos.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

She made my veins and even the pulses within them tremble.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Love commands me by determining my desires.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

In Beatrice I beheld the outer boundaries of blessedness.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Her sweetness left me intoxicated.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Follow your own path and let the bystanders gossip.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The devil is not as dark as depicted.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

There is no greater sorrow than to recall how we delighted in our own wretchedness.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As he, who with heaving lungs escaped the suffocating sea, turns to regard its perilous waters.—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

O human race, born to soar heavenward, why do you quail at the least breath of wind?—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

O human race, born to soar heavenward, why do you nosedive in the mildest breeze?—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Midway through my life’s journey
I awoke to find myself lost in a trackless wood,
for I had strayed far from the straight path.
—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

INSCRIPTION ON THE GATE OF HELL
Before me nothing created existed, to fear.
Eternal I am, and eternal I endure.
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
—Dante, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

More Dante Translations by Michael R. Burch



Paraphrases

What you
do
to
the refugee
you
do
unto
Me!
—Jesus Christ, translation/paraphrase by Michael R. Burch



Miscellanea

Critical Mass
by Michael R. Burch

I have listened to the rain all this evening
and it has a certain gravity,
as if it knows its destination,
perhaps even its particular destiny.
I do not believe mine is to be uplifted,
although I, too, may be flung precipitously
and from a great height.

"Gravity" and "particular destiny" are puns, since rain droplets are seeded by minute particles of dust adrift in the atmosphere and they fall due to gravity when they reach "critical mass." The title is also a pun, since the poem is skeptical about heaven-lauding Masses, etc.

Reading between the lines
by Michael R. Burch

Who could have read so much, as we?
Having the time, but not the inclination,
TV has become our philosophy,
sheer boredom, our recreation.



One-Liners and other Jokes

If the US consulted a competent headshrinker, it might boil down to nothing more than hot air and delusions.—Michael R. Burch

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

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

Trump is an idol with feet of clay, or, more probably, glitter. — Michael R. Burch

I call Trump the MESSiah, since MAGA seems doomed to wander 40 years in the wilderness, in fruitless pursuit of its lily-white Promised Land. — Michael R. Burch

For once I agree with MAGA. They want to rename Dulles Airport after Trump. I concur about the currish con: let’s call it Dull Ass Airport. — Michael R. Burch

Trump has no more use for democracy than Al Capone had for law and order. — Michael R. Burch

Trump is a career criminal who epitomizes the American dream that anyone — literally anyone — can become president. — Michael R. Burch

Under Trump American democracy is going the way of the dodo. — Michael R. Burch

I call the GOP under Trump the "rise and fall of the third retch" and I'm a former Reagan Republican. — Michael R. Burch

Trump is the American Gaffe Spree and also the American Graft Spree. — Michael R. Burch

Trump is a walking, talking Kinsley Gaffe. — Michael R. Burch

No, make that a stumbling, mumbling Kinsley Gaffe. — Michael R. Burch

The truth always comes out in the end. Trump wears Depends. — Michael R. Burch

Trump will shill no whine before its time, but then it’s always time to whine according to Trump. — Michael R. Burch

Trump shits on the Constitution, the handicapped, women, minorities, POWs and wounded veterans. But now, shitwrecked by the laughter of the gods, it turns out that Trump shits himself, literally. "Diaper Don" is not just a nickname, it's reality. — Michael R. Burch

One can smell the stench of Trump’s diaper through the ether. And the odor cloys and lingers like 'skairt skunk.' — Michael R. Burch

The GOP has become a confectionery where conspiracy theories are baked, then sold to the half-baked. — Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

If you believe Don's cons you must be using Giggle rather than Google. — Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

These days Trump's fraudian slip is always showing. — Michael R. Burch

Don the Con put the “con” in “conservative.” — Michael R. Burch

Trump put the “nut” in peanut gallery. — Michael R. Burch

tRUMP is the butt of many jokes. — Michael R. Burch

Hell hath no Fury like our furry Führer. — Michael R. Burch

Ron DeSantis is tRUMP LITE. He's just as big an ass, just as evil, just as loony, but has a cult of one. — Michael R. Burch

After watching Ron DeSantis try to "smile" one feels the need for a shower. A very long, hot, cleansing shower. — Michael R. Burch

Will the Bar Association bill and bar Bill Barr? Will Trump then declare Colludy Rudy Giuliani his new Detourney General? — Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

After Bill Barr is disbarred, will he end up behind barrs, or will he find employment as Trump's personal barrtender and anal barrometer? — Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

How can we predict the future when tomorrow is as uncertain as Trump’s next tweet? — Michael R. Burch

Sarah Palin is truly unique: she alone can make us appreciate Dubya's vastly superior intellect. — Michael R. Burch

I believe God is using Michelle Bachmann to conclusively prove that human beings did not evolve. — Michael R. Burch

Mitt Romney could suck the joy out of a lucky Irish rainbow, and the pot of gold at the end. — Michael R. Burch

Floriduh is the perfect state of residence for Trump. After all, Trump is florid in both face and speech, and he favors duh-mock-racey as his political system. Also, thanks to the warm Florida sun, the Great Trumpkin can now save tons of money on that ghastly orange pancake makeup. ― Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Now that he's relocated Donald Trump should run for governor of Florida. After all, he was voted "most likely to secede." — Michael R. Burch

If Minnesota were to secede from the United States, they would become Minnie-sota. — Michael R. Burch

If Texas were to secede from the United States, they would become Tax-us. — Michael R. Burch

If Mississippi were to secede from the United States, they would hardly be missed. — Michael R. Burch

Ted Cruz will launch his new Texas senatorial campaign to the strains of Coldplay's, "When you try your best but you don't secede." — Michael R. Burch

The enemy is not without, but within our gates; it is with our own complacence, our own folly, our own cutthroats and criminals that we must contend. — Cicero, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Trump is the American Nero. Trump, like Nero, set his capitol city aflame, then fiddled as his countrymen died. However, at least Nero played an actual fiddle, while Trump merely fiddled with his TV remote. — Michael R. Burch

Trump’s real goals are obvious
and yet millions of Americans remain oblivious.
—Michael R. Burch

Poets laud Justice’s
high principles.
Trump just gropes
her raw genitals.
—Michael R. Burch

Apologies to España
by Michael R. Burch

The reign
in Trump’s brain
falls mainly as mansplain.

Adam’s Rib vs. Women’s Lib
by Michael R. Burch

We hold these truths to be self-evident,
that all women were created sequel ...

That tRUMP’s a liar is obvious
to all but the oblivious.
—Michael R. Burch

tRUMP should work for tASS:
they both kiss Putin’s ass.
—Michael R. Burch



Two-Liners

Fierce ancient skalds summoned verse from their guts;
today’s genteel poets prefer modern ruts.
—Michael R. Burch

Q: What do you call it when a Man-Baby takes over the American government?
A: Coup d'Tot.
—Michael R. Burch

Love should be more than the sum of its parts—
of its potions and pills and subterranean arts.
—Michael R. Burch

I sampled honeysuckle
and it made my taste buds buckle.
—Michael R. Burch



Three-Liners and Four-Liners

There’s no need to rant about Al-Qaeda and ISIS.
The cruelty of “civilization” suffices:
our ordinary vices.
—Michael R. Burch

To be or not to be?
In the end Hamlet
opted for naught.
—Michael R. Burch

Fleet Tweet: Apologies to Shakespeare
by Michael R. Burch

a tweet
by any other name
would be as fleet!
—@mikerburch

Fleet Tweet II: Further Apologies to Shakespeare
by Michael R. Burch

Remember, doggonit,
heroic verse crowns the Shakespearean sonnet!
So if you intend to write a couplet,
please do it on the doublet!
—@mikerburch



The Complete Redefinitions

Faith: falling into the same old claptrap.—Michael R. Burch

Religion: the ties that blind.—Michael R. Burch

Lingerie: visual foreplay.—Michael R. Burch

Salvation: falling for allure—hook, line and stinker.—Michael R. Burch

Trickle down economics: an especially pungent golden shower.—Michael R. Burch

Canned political applause: clap track for the claptrap.—Michael R. Burch

A straight flush is a winning hand. A straight-faced flush is when you don't give it away.—Michael R. Burch

Lust: a chemical affair.—Michael R. Burch

Believer: A speck of dust / animated by lust / brief as a mayfly / and yet full of trust.—Michael R. Burch

Theologian: someone who wants life to “make sense” / by believing in a “god” infinitely dense.—Michael R. Burch

Skepticism: The murderer of Eve / cannot be believed.—Michael R. Burch

Death: This dream of nothingness we fear / is salvation clear.—Michael R. Burch

Insuresurrection: The dead are always with us, and yet they are naught!—Michael R. Burch

Marriage: a seldom-observed truce / during wars over money / and a red-faced papoose.—Michael R. Burch

Is “natural affection” affliction? / Is “love” nature’s sleight-of-hand trick / to get us to reproduce / whenever she feels the itch?—Michael R. Burch



Puns and Wordplay

A tweet by any other name would be as fleet.—Michael R. Burch

"Epigram" means cram, then scram.—Michael R. Burch

The expanding pop-u-’lation explains the rise of false celebrity. — Michael R. Burch

For artists success can be a collection of artfully-dodged problems.—Michael R. Burch

Donald Trump is a chip off the old blockhead. — Michael R. Burch

Trump is a grift from God. — Michael R. Burch



More Prose Epigrams

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

Unsurprisingly, narrow minds have trouble grasping larger subjects.—Michael R. Burch

Gods don’t have to make sense and seldom do. — Michael R. Burch

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

We can't rewrite the past, but we can read and learn from it.—Michael R. Burch

Intolerance is unsuccessful because one cannot argue successfully against success.—Michael R. Burch

Justice may be blind, but does she have to be deaf too?—Michael R. Burch

I'm an optimist until everything goes wrong, then I'm just miffed. — Michael R. Burch

Wayne Gretzky was pure skill poured into skates.—Michael R. Burch

Joe Montana was Joe Cool, but he was also Joe Clutch.— Michael R. Burch

The Big Dipper’s “dips” were better than most centers’ peaks. — Michael R. Burch

One man's coronation is another man's consternation.—Michael R. Burch

Neither the leaf nor the tree laments karma.—Michael R. Burch

The best time to plant a tree was in your youth. The second best time is now. — Chinese Proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch

As a general rule of thumb, ignore naysayers unless you agree with their criticism.—Michael R. Burch

Skill is the product of aptitude, application and experience.—Michael R. Burch

A good timeline brings order to chaos.—Michael R. Burch

We should do the best we can with the talents we were given and the time we have remaining. — Michael R. Burch

Love is exquisite torture.—Michael R. Burch (written after reading "It's Only My Heart" by Mirza Ghalib)



Longer Prose Epigrams and Epigram Collections

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

The craziest fantasy of all is that human beings will ever act in the planet's best interests. Or their own.—Michael R. Burch

When I was being bullied, I had to learn not to judge myself by the opinions of intolerant morons. Then I felt much better.—Michael R. Burch

The world is not flat, tomatoes are not poisonous, and the “common wisdom” is sometimes more like “whiz-dumb.” — Michael R. Burch

I've come up with a simple solution to global warming: paint the entire planet white!—Michael R. Burch

Improve yourself by other men's writings, attaining less painfully what they gained through great difficulty.—Socrates, translation by Michael R. Burch

Why did I do it? Why did I bother to become a poet? Perhaps out of a desire to leave something when I’m gone: a trail of bread crumbs leading back to a being named Michael R. Burch.

TALLULAHMANIA!

I’m in the same camp as the campy and vampy Tallulah. After all, what’s good for the gander must also be good for the goose. We can take that to the bank(head). If not, she’ll slap us all silly and spit (or piss) on our graves. — Michael R. Burch

Tallulah was an expert cartwheeler and exhibitionist. She would cartwheel on stage, whether the script called for it, or (most likely) didn’t. Thus she would give appreciative audiences a glimpse of her undies, if she happened to be wearing any. When Tallulah wore panties it was undoubtedly to appease the censors and certainly not her preference. — Michael R. Burch

Tallulah’s voice and her vices were the inspiration for Disney’s notorious Cruella de Vil. — Michael R. Burch

Tallulah was “incomparably foulmouthed,” exceeding Cruella in at least one vice — thanks to Disney’s censors, no doubt. — Michael R. Burch

Tallulah was the faery godmother of all the "I'll reveal whatever I like" actresses and models who followed her lead: i.e., pretty much all of them these days. — Michael R. Burch

By the mid-1920s normally sedate Britons were in the grip of Tallulahmania. It was like Beatlemania with crotch-flashing cartwheels. — Michael R. Burch

FASHION

My opinion on see-through clothing? What’s good for the royal goose should be good for the commoner gander(ers) too! — Michael R. Burch

SPORTS

Father Time is undefeated, true, but mortals have a much higher “degree of difficulty.” — Michael R. Burch

Johnny Bench was the benchmark, pardon the pun. — Michael R. Burch

Showtime Ohtani puts on a show and people show up to see him perform. — Michael R. Burch

The Dodgers are indeed very dodgy with their trillion dollar payroll. But as Robert Burns observed, “The best-laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley.” — Michael R. Burch

It seems “Iron” Mike was a bit of a softie when things didn’t go his way. — Michael R. Burch

If we compare Sudden Sam McDowell to the Hall of Fame’s lesser lights, he should be in, but there’s no rhyme or reason to how the voters draw their erasable lines in the sand. So he probably doesn’t make it. But we can always raise a toast to Sudden Sam’s great gift to the world, Cheers!” — Michael R. Burch

Thanks to his use of PEDs, Jose Canseco’s baseball career is a chimera, a grinning (or leering) Cheshire cat. — Michael R. Burch

UNEXPECTED/SLASHERS

Magic Johnson didn’t slash with great speed, leaping ability, or athleticism. He did it, of course, with magic! — Michael R. Burch

Larry Bird wasn’t a great leaper, nor was he incredibly (or even credibly) fast, but he could get to the hoop, making him a great slasher according to results. — Michael R. Burch

Kevin McHale was nicknamed the “Black Hole” because when he got his hands on the ball, it wasn’t coming back out again. McHale was a great slasher due to his height, length, footwork and elasticity. Like the smaller Pete Maravich, Man-Mountain McHale was incredibly flexible and never seemed to have trouble getting his shot off from any angle. Thus there was never any reason for him to return the ball! — Michael R. Burch

HUMAN NATURE

We only know the pieces of others they choose to share. — Michael R. Burch

And how much have you shared lately? — Michael R. Burch

GOLDEN RULE

Be as golden within as without.—Michael R. Burch, "Suntan lines"

The Golden Rule is much easier to recite than observe. — Michael R. Burch

We are all better at preaching the Golden Rule than observing it ourselves. — Michael R. Burch

The Golden Rule is much easier to recite for others' benefit than to observe oneself. — Michael R. Burch

Consider a Golden Mean with the Golden Rule: Why be harder on yourself than on others? — Michael R. Burch

ARTS & LETTERS

Poetry should be better than prose, not more convenient to write. Clumsy inversions and archaisms are like water wings on an Olympic swimmer. — Michael R. Burch

What is the future of poetry? I think the cream will rise to the top in the future, as it has in the past. — Michael R. Burch

It is very difficult to write capital "P" Poetry, and beyond the ability of most poets, but that has always been my goal. Like trying to climb the highest mountain because it's there. As a beginning poet in my early teens, I would destroy poems when they didn't pass muster. Once, I destroyed them all. But I always understood the GOAL, at least. — Michael R. Burch

Modern editors know too much about poetry to recognize it when they read it. — Michael R. Burch

There is no reason to fear criticism. If you agree, use it. If not, ignore it. And feel free to pick and choose.—Michael R. Burch

A. E. Housman was a great poet who with his direct statement poems single-handedly disproved claims that poetry requires imagery, metaphor, "no ideas but in things" and other similar much-parroted nonsense. — Michael R. Burch

Winnie-the-Pooh is a series for the ages (and all ages). — Michael R. Burch

John Bunyan wrote the second-most-unreadable novel of all time, Pilgrim’s Progress. I would slightly revise the title to Grim Pill’s Progress. The book is a lengthy sermon told through mind-numbingly boring allegories. Will the protagonist make it through the Slough of Despair? Will he be lured from the path to salvation in Vanity Fair? Does anybody care? It was the most laborious read of my life, and a book I would never crack again. The most unreadable book of all time is, of course, James Joyce's aptly titled Wake. — Michael R. Burch

Aretha Franklin has been called the Queen of Soul but in reality she was the queen of whatever she sang, from "Nessun Dorma" to the bluesy "Summertime" to gospel to harder fare. — Michael R. Burch

The natural response to Dimash singing "SOS" is to become a puddle of tears, shot through with lightning bolts of awe. — Michael R. Burch

Eartha Kitt Cat had the purr-fect name to play Catwoman. — Michael R. Burch

Batman didn’t know if he was going or coming when Michelle Pfeiffer played Catwoman. — Michael R. Burch

Milli Vanilli seemed like two singers who could have been models, but turned out to be two models pretending to be singers. — Michael R. Burch

Paula Cole’s semiliterate “Say a little prayer for I” takes the MacArthur cake for bad songwriting. — Michael R. Burch

The three towers of English Language Modernism peaked by 1915, then left most of us piqued thereafter. — Michael R. Burch

(Ezra Pound published his magnificent Kensington Garden poem in 1913. James Joyce published Dubliners in 1914. T.S. Eliot published "Prufrock" in 1915.)

Nonsensical literary theories have been the death of poetry. — Michael R. Burch

POETRY WARS

I have been attacked by a large group of poets, The Society of Classical Poets, who regularly publish wretched poems, some of which would fail a fifth grade English class. Hence I redubbed them the Keystone Scops. One of the scops said in a despairing poem that "all" the scops were afraid to reply to my criticism. Why? Because I might quote them, resulting in "untold embarrassment" for those being quoted!

According to the Keystone Scops, I'm just a hillbilly poet. Imagine what a major poet could do with this Dunciad! — Michael R. Burch

Laconic Reply to a Scop
by Michael R. Burch

You flatter yourself that anyone cares
about your "Society" and its airs.

To prove that no acclaim is due,
I mostly just quote you.

So why is your temperature rising?
Who objects to free advertising?

The Scops Are Whining Again
by Michael R. Burch

The scops are whining again:
“How can you be so mean?”
Who cares if we stammer
and suck at grammar?
Why don’t you just let us preen!”



SNAPSHOTS: THE BEST IMAGERY OF MICHAEL R. BURCH

The petal-scented rainfall of early spring. — Michael R. Burch

Ivy laureling erudite walls. — Michael R. Burch

The last gasp of a gassed canary. — Michael R. Burch

Elderly sunflowers: bees trimming their beards. — Michael R. Burch

The raindrop that overflowed the river’s banks. — Michael R. Burch

Flushed with success the toilet gurgled happily. — Michael R. Burch

Have you tasted the bitterness of tears of despair?
Have you watched the sun sink through such pale, balmless air
that your soul sought its shell like a crab on a beach,
then scuttled inside to be safe, out of reach?

Here the hills are old, and rolling
casually in their old age;
on the horizon youthful mountains
bathe themselves in windblown fountains . . .



Prose Epigrams about Poetry and Poets

Poetry is the art of finding the right word at the right time.—Michael R. Burch

If you want to be a poet, find the best way of saying things.—Michael R. Burch

I will never grok picking a picky rule over a Poem!—Michael R. Burch

In poetry, minor details can make a big difference.—Michael R. Burch

In poetry, small changes can make a big difference.—Michael R. Burch

Poetry moves the heart as well as the reason.—Michael R. Burch

The best poems delight us into wisdom, or at least its consideration.—Michael R. Burch, paraphrasing Robert Frost and Horace

Love and art are balancing acts, with a lot of self-inflicted wounds.—Michael R. Burch

Poetry is the marriage of ideas and emotions, begetting music.—Michael R. Burch

I take really good poetry as a challenge and try to avoid "genius envy."—Michael R. Burch

Adam Gopnik called Randall Jarrell the “best-equipped” American poetry critic of the past century; he may have been the “best quipped” as well.—Michael R. Burch

Why am I scrolling through oceans of spam to make sure I don’t tweet the same poem twice?—Michael R. Burch

Writers must avoid weaker and weakening phrases. Relentlessly remove words that detract rather than add.—Michael R. Burch

Some poets should be called Form-u-lists rather than Formalists because they latch onto formulas like babies slurping lukewarm milk from disposable bottles.—Michael R. Burch

I dislike stupid rules and refuse to abide by them.—Michael R. Burch

Irony of ironies! Could there be a less poetic term for a poem than “poem” — whether pronounced “pohm,” “po-um” or “poym”? And what the hell rhymes with “poetry” — “knowitry? showitry?” —Michael R. Burch

The most common cliché in contemporary poetry is: "Show, don't tell / no ideas but in things / fear abstractions." Unfortunately, someone forgot to inform Homer, Sappho, Dante, Shakespeare and Milton!—Michael R. Burch



Epitaphs

My Epitaph
by Michael R. Burch

Do not weep for me, when I am gone.
I lived, and ate my fill, and gorged on life.
You will not find beneath this glossy stone
the man who sowed and reaped and gathered days
like flowers, undismayed they would not keep.
Go lightly then, and leave me to my sleep.

Completing the Pattern
by Michael R. Burch

Walk with me now, among the transfixed dead
who kept life’s compact and who thus endure
harsh sentence here—among pink-petaled beds
and manicured green lawns. The sky’s azure,
pale blue once like their eyes, will gleam blood-red
at last when sunset staggers to the door
of each white mausoleum, to inquire—
What use, O things of erstwhile loveliness?

Dust (II)
by Michael R. Burch

We are dust
and to dust we must
return ...
but why, then,
life’s pointless sojourn?

Untitled

This dream of nothingness we so fear
is salvation clear.
—Michael R. Burch

I have my doubts about your God and his “love”:
If one screams below, what the hell is “Above”?
—Michael R. Burch

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.

Styx
by Michael R. Burch

Black waters,
deep and dark and still . . .
all men have passed this way,
or will.

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
by Michael R. Burch

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

Laughter’s Cry
by Michael R. Burch

Because life is a mystery, we laugh
and do not know the half.

Because death is a mystery, we cry
when one is gone, our numbering thrown awry.

Fahr an' Ice
by Michael R. Burch

From what I know of death, I'll side with those
who'd like to have a say in how it goes:
just make mine cool, cool rocks (twice drowned in likker),
and real fahr off, instead of quicker.

Housman was right ...
by Michael R. Burch

It's true that life’s not much to lose,
so why not hang out on a cloud?
It’s just the bon voyage is hard
and the objections loud.

Long Division
by Michael R. Burch

All things become one
Through death’s long division
And perfect precision.

Grave Oversight I
by Michael R. Burch

The dead are always with us,
and yet they are naught!

Grave Oversight II
by Michael R. Burch

for Jim Dunlap, who winked and suggested “not”

The dead are either naught
or naughty, being so sought!

                The Locker      
         by Michael R. Burch

All the dull hollow clamor has died
       and what was contained,
                   removed,        
                   reproved
         adulation or sentiment,
    left with the pungent darkness
as remembered as the sudden light.



Native American Poems, Proverbs and Sayings

These are my modern English translations of some of my favorite Native American poems, proverbs and sayings. I translated the first three poems when my father, Paul Ray Burch Jr., made the decision to stop taking dialysis and enter hospice. We believe he had Native American blood―possibly Cherokee. Native Americans were creating poems and songs in pre-Columbian days; Mayan and Aztec literature dates back to the first millennium BCE. 

Cherokee Travelers' Blessing I
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I will extract the thorns from your feet.
Yet a little longer we will walk life's sunlit paths together.
I will love you like my own brother, my own blood.
When you are disconsolate, I will wipe the tears from your eyes.
And when you are too sad to live, I will put your aching heart to rest.

Cherokee Travelers' Blessing II
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Happily may you walk
in the paths of the Rainbow.
               Oh!,
and may it always be beautiful before you,
beautiful behind you,
beautiful below you,
beautiful above you,
and beautiful all around you
where in Perfection beauty is finished.

Cherokee Travelers' Blessing III
loose loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

May Heaven’s warmest winds blow gently there,
where you reside,
and may the Great Spirit bless all those you love,
this side of the farthest tide.
And when you go,
whether the journey is fast or slow,
may your moccasins leave many cunning footprints in the snow.
And when you look over your shoulder, may you always find the Rainbow.

Native American Travelers' Blessing
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Let us walk together here
among earth's creatures, great and small,
remembering, our footsteps light,
that one wise God created all.

Native American Prayer
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Help us learn the lessons you have left us here
in every leaf and rock.

Sioux Vision Quest

A man must pursue his Vision
as the eagle explores
the sky's deepest blues.
—Crazy Horse, Oglala Lakota Sioux (circa 1840-1877), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The Receiving of the Flower
excerpt from a Mayan love poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Let us sing overflowing with joy
as we observe the Receiving of the Flower.
The lovely maidens beam;
their hearts leap in their breasts.

Why?

Because they will soon yield their virginity to the men they love!

The Deflowering
excerpt from a Mayan love poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Remove your clothes;
let down your hair;
become as naked as the day you were born—

virgins!

Prelude to Lovemaking
excerpt from a Mayan love poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Lay out your most beautiful clothes,
maidens!
The day of happiness has arrived!

Grab your combs, detangle your hair,
adorn your earlobes with gaudy pendants.
Dress in white as becomes maidens ...

Then go, give your lovers the happiness of your laughter!
And all the village will rejoice with you,
for the day of happiness has arrived!

The Flower-Strewn Pool
excerpt from a Mayan love poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You have arrived at last in the woods
where no one can see what you do
at the flower-strewn pool ...
Remove your clothes,
unbraid your hair,
become as you were
when you first arrived here
naked and shameless—
virgins, maidens!

Warrior's Confession
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Oh my love, how fair you are—
far brighter than the fairest star!

Native American Proverbs

Before you judge
a man for his sins
be sure to trudge
many moons in his moccasins.
—loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The soul would see no Rainbows if not for the eyes’ tears.
—loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A woman’s highest calling is to help her man unite with the Source.
A man’s highest calling is to help his woman walk the earth unharmed.
—loose translation/interpretation by 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, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A brave man dies but once, a coward many times.–Native American saying, translation by Michael R. Burch

Speak less thunder, wield more lightning. — Apache proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch

The more we wonder, the more we understand. — Arapaho proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch

Beware the eloquence of the rattlesnake's tail. — Navajo saying, translation by Michael R. Burch

The rattlesnake's tail is eloquent. — Navajo saying, translation by Michael R. Burch

Adults talk, children whine. — Blackfoot proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch

Don’t be afraid to cry: it will lessen your sorrow. — Hopi proverb

One foot in the boat, one foot in the canoe, and you end up in the river. — Tuscarora proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch

Our enemy's weakness increases our strength. — Cherokee proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch

We will be remembered tomorrow by the tracks we leave today. — Dakota proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch

The heart is our first teacher. — Cheyenne proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch

Dreams beget success. — Maricopa proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch

Knowledge interprets the past, wisdom foresees the future. — Lumbee proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch

The troublemaker's way is thorny. — Umpqua proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch

What is life?
The flash of a firefly.
The breath of the winter buffalo.
The shadow scooting across the grass that vanishes with sunset.
—Blackfoot saying, translation by Michael R. Burch



More Athenian Epitaphs

Be ashamed, O mountains and seas: these were men of valorous breath.
Assume, like pale chattels, an ashen silence at death.
Michael R. Burch, after Parmenio

These men earned a crown of imperishable glory,
Nor did the maelstrom of death obscure their story.
Michael R. Burch, after Simonides

Stranger, flee!
But may Fortune grant you all the prosperity
she denied me.
Michael R. Burch, after Leonidas of Tarentum

I am loyal to you master, even in the grave:
Just as you now are death’s slave.
Michael R. Burch, after Dioscorides

Having never earned a penny,
nor seen a bridal gown slip to the floor,
still I lie here with the love of many,
to be the love of yet one more.
Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet

I lie by stark Icarian rocks
and only speak when the sea talks.
Please tell my dear father that I gave up the ghost
on the Aegean coast.
Michael R. Burch, after Theatetus

Everywhere the sea is the sea, the dead are the dead.
What difference to me—where I rest my head?
The sea knows I’m buried.
Michael R. Burch, after Antipater of Sidon

Constantina, inconstant one!
Once I thought your name beautiful
but I was a fool
and now you are more bitter to me than death!
You flee someone who loves you
with baited breath
to pursue someone who’s untrue.
But if you manage to make him love you,
tomorrow you'll flee him too!
Michael R. Burch, after Macedonius

Dead as you are, though you lie still as stone,
huntress Lycas, my great Thessalonian hound,
the wild beasts still fear your white bones;
craggy Pelion remembers your valor,
splendid Ossa, the way you would bound
and bay at the moon for its whiteness,
bellowing as below we heard valleys resound.
And how brightly with joy you would canter and run
the strange lonely peaks of high Cithaeron!
Michael R. Burch, after Simonides

Yes, bring me Homer’s lyre, no doubt,
but first yank the bloodstained strings out!
—Anacreon, translation by Michael R. Burch

Here we find Anacreon,
an elderly lover of boys and wine.
His harp still sings in lonely Acheron
as he thinks of the lads he left behind ...
—Anacreontea, translation by Michael R. Burch

I am an image, a tombstone. Seikilos placed me here as a long-lasting sign of deathless remembrance.—loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



More Translations

She says an epigram’s too terse
to reveal her tender heart in verse ...
but really, darling, ain’t the thrill
of a kiss much shorter still?
―#2 from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Just as I select a ship when it's time to travel,
or a house when it's time to change residences,
even so I will choose when it's time to depart from life.
―Seneca, speaking about the right to euthanasia in the first century AD, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Ironic Vacation
by Michael R. Burch

Salzburg.
Seeing Mozart’s baby grand piano.
Standing in the presence of sheer incalculable genius.
Grabbing my childish pen to write a poem & challenge the Immortals.
Next stop, the catacombs!

Biblical Knowledge or “Knowing Coming and Going”
by Michael R. Burch

The wisest man the world has ever seen
had fourscore concubines and threescore queens?
This gives us pause, and so we venture hence—
he “knew” them, wisely, in the wider sense.

Less Heroic Couplets: Midnight Stairclimber
by Michael R. Burch

Procreation
is at first great sweaty recreation,
then—long, long after the sex dies—
the source of endless exercise.

Snap Shots
by Michael R. Burch

Our daughters must be celibate,
die virgins. We triangulate
their early paths to heaven (for
the martyrs they’ll soon conjugate).

We like to hook a little tail.
We hope there’s decent ass in jail.
Don’t fool with us; our bombs are smart!
(We’ll send the plans, ASAP, e-mail.)

The soul is all that matters; why
hoard gold if it offends the eye?
A pension plan? Don’t make us laugh!
We have your plan for sainthood. (Die.)

NOTE: The second stanza is a punning reference to the Tailhook scandal, in which US Navy and Marine aviation officers were alleged to have sexually assaulted up to 83 women and seven men.

A poet births words,
brings them into the world like a midwife,
then wet-nurses them from infancy to adolescence.
—Michael R. Burch



Doggerel

There's a bun in auntie's oven,
and soon you'll have a cousin!
―Michael R. Burch

Woeful Waffles
by Michael R. Burch

for and after Richard Thomas Moore

I think it’s woeful
and should be unlawful
to eat those awful
tofu waffles!

a poem in which i a-coos Coo & Co. of being unfairly lovable

Coo & Co. are unfairly lovable!
their poems are entirely too huggable!
for what hope have we po’-its,
we intellectual know-its,
or no-wits, when ours are so drubabble?

While not written in German, Italian, French, Latin, Greek, Sanskrit and hieroglyphics like T.S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land,” but merely in less-than-the-Queen’s-English, this poem may also require copious footnotes. The “unfairly lovable” poems I had in mind were, particularly, “Learning Barn” and “Grebe barcarolle,” but also other adorable Coo & Co. poems reminiscent of Lear, Carroll, A. A. Milne, “The House on Pooh Corner” and “Yellow Submarine.” The contraction “po’-its” stands for “poor its,” as in destitute non-entities, which we other poets are in danger of becoming when compared to the adorability of Coo & Co. How can we possibly hope to compete? The coinage “drubabble” means “someone in need of a drubbing for babbling on when they should be reading Coo & Co.” With which I must lapse into silence ...

aka "His Last Confession" by Michael R. Burch

(We have narrowed down the authorship of the the poems of Coo & Co. to either an Einsteinian colombine named Coo or a mysterious poetess who goes by the names F.F. Teague, Felicity Teague, Fliss Teague and FT.)



Politics: Political Epigrams

Nonsense Verse for a Nonsensical White House Resident

Roses are red,
Daffodils are yellow,
But not half as daffy
As that taffy-colored fellow!
―Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

The Hair Flap
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

The hair flap was truly a scare:
Trump’s bald as a billiard back there!
The whole nation laughed
At the state of his graft;
Now the man’s wigging out, so beware!

15 Seconds
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Our president’s sex life—atrocious!
His "briefings"—bizarre hocus-pocus!
Politics—a shell game!
My brief moment of fame
flashed by before Oprah could notice!

Not-So-Heroic Couplets
by Donald Trump
care of Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

To outfox the pox:
kill yourself first, with Clorox!

And since death is the goal,
mainline Lysol!

No vaccine? Just chug Mr. Clean!
Is a cure out of reach? Fumigate your lungs, with bleach!

To immunize your thorax,
destroy it with Borax!

To immunize your bride, drown her in Opti-cide!
To end all future gridlocks, gargle with Vaprox!

Now, quick, down the Drain-o
with old Insane-o NoBrain-o!

Tea Party Madness
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Since we agree,
let’s have a nice tea
with our bats in the belfry.

Donald Disgustus
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

It’ll be a cold day in hell
when I wish The Donald well:
was there ever a bigger liar
than President Pants-on-Fire?

If Trump played basketball he would lead the league in airballs. — Michael R. Burch aka “the Loyal Opposition”

Alina "Habba Dab a Doo-Doo" is the perfect lawyer for ex-president Smelvis von Shitzenpants. — Michael R. Burch

Trump is a RINO, a sheep in wolf’s clothing. — Michael R. Burch

Trump is a grift from God. — Michael R. Burch

Don the Con put the “con” in “conservative” and his cult provided the “serve.” The term has become a self-fulfilling prophecy: American serfs now serve a con. — Michael R. Burch

It turns out the term was prophetic, since "conservatives" now serve a con. Or should we call them "conswervatives"? — Michael R. Burch

Mister Ed was a stable genius. Trump is a horse’s ass. — Michael R. Burch

All magic, eventually, begins to wane. So too with illusions like Trump's. — Michael R. Burch

Trump is as likely to embrace moderate Republicans as a cobra is to “embrace” mice, and in the same affectionate manner. — Michael R. Burch

Thanks to Trump and his ilk, the GOP’s goose-stepping march toward fascism continues apace. — Michael R. Burch

The only realistic argument against Trump’s cognitive decline is that he never had much cognition to begin with. — Michael R. Burch

Trump's a megalomaniac whose entire life has been a nonstop attempt to con people into thinking he’s the Big Shitz, so it’s amusing to hear he wears diapers. — Michael R. Burch

I do what I can to point out Trump’s inadequacies to be dogcatcher, much less president, but he provides me with so much material it’s hard to take credit. — Michael R. Burch

When MAGA finally wakes up, it will be far too late. Ironically, their only hope for salvation is the “liberals” they despise, loathe and fear. — Michael R. Burch

As a result of his dithering on abortion, Trump has been caught in a withering crossfire.— Michael R. Burch

Hopefully the wheels of justice will grind tRUMP into hamberder meat. — Michael R. Burch

Trump paid 420K not for an NDA, but for nada.—Michael R. Burch

(Trump paid a total of 420K to Michael Cohen and Stormy Daniels, but forgot to sign the NDA, making it invalid.)

Transactional Trump is only worth his bottom line, and that bottom line is rapidly bottoming out. — Michael R. Burch

/bookmark/xxxx/zzzz/

Abraham Lincoln appealed the to the better angels of Americans. Trump appeals to their worst demons. To the primitive demons of unreasoning fear. Of fearing rather than loving and respecting one's neighbor due to minor shadings of skin coloration and culture. To the primitive demons of cowardice and intolerance. — Michael R. Burch

Tricky Nikki Haley is an expert fence-sitter. — Michael R. Burch

Donald Trump is a reverse Midas who corrupts everything he touches. Lara Trump is his warlock’s apprentice. — Michael R. Burch

Ken Buck bucked MAGA's insanity. Think about it: a Tea Party Republican quit Congress because MAGA is too extreme. The lunatics are running the asylum, led by ex-president E Pluribus Loon 'em. — Michael R. Burch

Cassidy Hutchinson is not only credible, but her courage and poise under fire have been incredible. — Michael R. Burch

Cassidy Hutchinson is a modern Erin Brockovich except that in her case the well has been poisoned for the whole country. — Michael R. Burch

Utopian Tim Scott said, "When I look at our nation, I don’t see division." Apparently Tim Scott has never seen Trump for what he is, despite standing behind him and kissing his reeking, seeping diaper. Ideals are well and good, but blindness is not a virtue. Germans would have benefitted from seeing Hitler for what he really was, rather than fawning over and applauding him. I would like to subscribe to Tim Scott’s utopian view, but the reality of Trump and his ilk prevents me. — Michael R. Burch

If Don the Con were truthful, he wouldn’t need a dime from others, but he’s become the world’s greatest beggar. So sad! — Michael R. Burch

Trump says he “loves” his supporters. How much does he “love” them? Apparently, to death, because he packs them together like sardines in the middle of a pandemic! — Michael R. Burch aka “the Loyal Opposition”

The crackpot Kraken cracked. — Michael R. Burch aka “the Loyal Opposition”

Alas for insurrectionists, the fearsome Kraken turned out to be Flipper. — Michael R. Burch aka “the Loyal Opposition”

Kenneth Chesebro has pled guilty to a felony in Trump's failed coup attempt and will now be singing like a cross between a canary and a stuck pig. — Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

We need voter equality: get rid of the Electoral College and let every vote carry the same weight. That would also put an end to Trumpian shenanigans in swing states.—Michael R. Burch

Don the Con will con-tinue to con-fuse his cult, whether in the White House, the courthouse, the jailhouse or the outhouse. — Michael R. Burch

Trump is a gift of the Grifter Gods but they are, alas, trickster gods like Loki, Mephistopheles and Jiibayaabooz. Trump made a deal with the Devil and now he must pay his dues. The trickster gods giveth and the trickster gods taketh away. Blessed be the names of the trickster gods. Amen. — Michael R. Burch



Light Verse

Less Heroic Couplets: Mini-Ode to Stamina
by Michael R. Burch

When you’ve given so much
that I can’t bear your touch,
then from a safe distance
let me admire your persistence.

Trump’s real goals are obvious
and yet millions of Americans remain oblivious.
—Michael R. Burch

Cover Girl
by Michael R. Burch

Cunning
at sunning
and dunning,
the stunning
young woman’s in the running
to be found nude on the cover
of some patronizing lover.

In this case the cover is a bed cover, where the enterprising young mistress is about to be covered herself.

First Base Freeze
by Michael R. Burch

I find your love unappealing
(no, make that appalling)
because you prefer kissing
then stalling.

Paradoxical Ode to Antinatalism
by Michael R. Burch

"God is Love."

A stay on love
would end death’s hateful sway,
someday.

A stay on love
would thus be love,
I say.

Be true to love
and thus end death’s
fell sway!

Untitled

I didn’t mean to love you,
but I did.
Best leave the rest unsaid,
hid-
den
and unbidden.
—Michael R. Burch

You imagine life is good,
but have you actually understood?
—Michael R. Burch

Living with a body ain’t much fun.
Harder, still, to live without one.
Whatever happened to our day in the sun?
—Michael R. Burch

How little remains of our joys and our pains.
How little remains of our losses and gains.
How little remains except to refrain.
—Michael R. Burch

Sometimes I feel better, it’s true,
but mostly I’m still not over you.
—Michael R. Burch

Don’t let the past defeat you.
Learn from it, but don’t dwell.
Have no regrets at “farewell.”
—Michael R. Burch

Haughty moon,
when did I ever trouble you,
insomnia’s co-conspirator!
—Michael R. Burch

Every day’s a new chance to lose weight,
but most likely,
I’ll
... procrastinate ...
—Michael R. Burch

Big Ben Boner
by Michael R. Burch

Early to bed, hurriedly to rise
makes a man stealthy,
and that’s why he’s wealthy:
what the hell is he doing behind your closed eyes?

Friend, how you’ll squirm
when you belatedly learn
that you’re the worm!

Pecking Disorder
by Michael R. Burch

Love has a pecking order,
or maybe a dis-order,
a hell we recognize
if we merely open our eyes:
the attractive win at birth,
while those of ample girth
are deemed of little worth
from Nottingham to Perth.

Nottingham is said to have the most beautiful women in the world.

Tease
by Michael R. Burch

It’s what you always say, okay?
It’s what you always say:
C’mon let’s play,
roll in the hay,
It’s what you always say. Ole!

But little do you do, it’s true.
But little do you do.
A little diddle, run to piddle ...
we never really screw!
That’s you!

Observance (II)
by Michael R. Burch

fifty years later...

The trees are in their autumn beauty,
majestic to the eye.
Whoever felt as I,
                             whoever
felt them doomed to die
despite their flamboyant colors?

They seem like knights of dismal countenance ...
as if, windmills themselves,
they might tilt with the bloody sky.

And yet their favors gaily fly!

i wrote a giddy little song
by michael r. burch

i wrote a giddy little song,
which u can dance to, all night long;
i wrote a giddy little poem
which’ll tempt a smile, like sea foam;
i wrote a giddy little line,
it’ll tease a laugh, like a dandelion;
I wrote a song and took the trouble,
it’ll make u smile, like a soap bubble;
i wrote a giddy bit of fluff,
now dance to it, get off ur duff!

A Further Farewell to Dentistry
by Michael R. Burch

for and after Richard Moore, from whom I absconded the title, after being initially inspired by a Facebook exchange between Sam Gwynn and Alicia Stallings

Lately I've been eschewing
ice chewing
and my indentured dentist’s been boo-hooing.

Christ!
by Michael R. Burch

If I knew men could be so dumb,
I would never have come!

Now you lie, cheat and steal in my name
and make it a thing of shame.

Did I heal the huge holes in your heart, in your head?
Isn’t it obvious: I’m dead!

Door Mouse
by Michael R. Burch

I’m sure it’s not good for my heart—
the way it will jump-start
when the mouse scoots the floor
(I try to kill it with the door,
never fast enough, or
fling a haphazard shoe ...
always too slow too)
in the strangest zig-zaggedy fashion
absurdly inconvenient for mashin’,
till our hearts, each maniacally revvin’,
make us both early candidates for heaven.

The Humpback
by Michael R. Burch

The humpback is a gullet
equipped with snarky fins.
It has a winning smile:
and when it SMILES, it wins
as miles and miles of herring
excite its fearsome grins.
So beware, unwary whalers,
lest you drown, sans feet and shins!

Apologies to España
by Michael R. Burch

the reign
in Trump’s brain
falls mainly as mansplain

No Star
by Michael R. Burch

Trump, you're no "star."
Putin made you an American Czar.
Now, if we continue down this dark path you've chosen,
pretty soon we'll be wearing lederhosen.

tRUMP is the butt of many jokes.—Michael R. Burch

Erotic Epigrams

Cunt, while you weep and seep neediness all night,
ass has claimed what would bring you delight.
—Musa Lapidaria, #100A, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Movie Criticism of Improbable Sequels

Is it possible there were two Blue Lagoon movies, much less three? — Michael R. Burch

I remember getting up and walking out of Jaws III, vowing never to return to the failing and flailing franchise: a vow I faithfully kept. — Michael R. Burch

The best thing about Austin Powers 3: Goldmember was its cute and provocative title. But do we really want to think about the subject matter, much less explore it? — Michael R. Burch

Back to the Future III (or Suture?). Yes, methinks they went "too far," as the movie’s blurb suggests.  — Michael R. Burch

Death Wish 3 was aptly named. One can only long for the demise of this lifeless movie franchise. — Michael R. Burch

Alas, Die Hard 3 was true to its title and showed no signs of life. — Michael R. Burch

The Exorcist should have exorcised its demon of self-imitation. — Michael R. Burch

Jurassic Park has become like an overtold joke when everyone knows the punch line. — Michael R. Burch

The Highlander series should have taken the high road and ended with the original. — Michael R. Burch

I’m a Tolkien fan, but The Hobbit trilogy seems like a real str-e-e-e-tch to me. As in, “How can we turn one story into three movies and make lots more moolah?” — Michael R. Burch

The first two Home Alone movies were classics, but after that, well, it was dangerous to one’s brain cells to be home alone with nothing better to watch! — Michael R. Burch

Indiana Jones has been accused of becoming “Stephen Seagal bad.” — Michael R. Burch

It’s hard to believe there was actually a third Addams Family movie. Are we really that desperate for entertainment? And the original Morticia Addams, played by Carolyn Jones, was much hotter! Give me the black-and-white reruns, any time. — Michael R. Burch

Police Academy: the perpetrators of this horrendous crime should be arrested and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law! — Michael R. Burch

The first two movies were bad enough, but Robocop 3 added insult to injury. — Michael R. Burch

Did we really need a follow-up to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: Secret of the Ooze? Really? — Michael R. Burch

European Vacation fell vastly short of paradise. It was one flat joke after another. I remember getting up and walking out with my girlfriend, maybe 15 minutes into the movie. — Michael R. Burch

Friday the 13th was very unlucky for paying viewers. Jason returning from the dead in 3-D was not an improvement on this failing and flailing franchise. — Michael R. Burch

The Halloween sequels kept getting worse and worse, in a seeming contest for futility with Friday the 13th and Nightmare on Elm Street. — Michael R. Burch

And thus I have reached the bottom of the briny barrel! — Michael R. Burch



CLOSING THOUGHTS
by Michael R. Burch

Religion was a big part of my family's life — we had missionaries, pastors and Sunday School teachers, including my mother, in our extended family — but I ended up being the black sheep.

Why?

I was a true believer until I read the Bible from cover to cover at age eleven and was dumbfounded that anyone could consider the biblical god "good." I wrote this epigram, my first poem, to express my conclusion:

If God
is good
half the Bible
is libel.
—Michael R. Burch

Many years later as an adult in my mid-forties, I read the Bible from cover to cover again, then at the behest of my mother studied numerous books by Christian apologists like Watchman Nee, C. S. Lewis, G. K. Chesterton, Billy Graham, Lee Strobel and Josh McDowell, only to arrive at the same conclusion. Only more so.

Why?

The Bible says trees grew before the sun was created, that a solid-but-transparent “firmament” in the sky holds back rainwater like a dam, and that stars are tiny pinpricks of light that can fall to earth. Is it a book of science or ancient superstitions? The Bible commands slavery, sex slavery, infanticide, matricide, ethnic cleansing, genocide and the ghastly stoning to death of children for non-sins and misdemeanors. Is it a book of ethics and morality or primitive voodoo? The Bible according to orthodox theology says billions of souls will go to an infinitely cruel and purposeless hell for guessing wrong about which religion to believe. Are Christians wise to believe in such an evil, unjust god?

Surely those who believe in Christ should "rightly divide the word" and give Jesus the benefit of the doubt by not attributing the Bible's satanic verses to him as part of the Trinity. Nothing can be more contrary to both faith and reason, than to claim God is perfect in love, compassion, mercy, wisdom and justice, yet to maintain that he authored commandments to, for instance, stone rape victims to death. If God is good, how is that not blasphemy?

For me the Bible's most inspired passage is Paul's epiphany on Divine Love in 1 Corinthians 13. In his epiphany Paul says that if God is not Divine Love, he is nothing, and all the words of the Bible are so much useless noise: clanging gongs and tinkling cymbals. And Paul tells us that Divine Love thinks no evil, holds no record of wrongs, bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things, never gives up and never fails. Such love is incompatible with racism, sexism, homophobia, religious intolerance, cherry-picking people to be saved, and with hell.

Christians should use Paul's epiphany as a litmus test, and disregard all biblical commandments contrary to it.

Paul's description of Divine Love in 1 Corinthians 13 is the gold standard, so why settle for less? And why accuse Jesus Christ, if you are going to name your religion after him, of being an atom short of Divine Love?

After all, to fall an atom short of Infinity is to fall infinitely short.



Bio: Michael R. Burch is an American poet who lives in Nashville, Tennessee with his wife Beth, their son Jeremy, and two outrageously spoiled puppies. His poems, epigrams, translations, essays, articles, reviews, short stories and letters have appeared more than 6,000 times in publications which include TIME, USA Today, The Hindu, BBC Radio 3, CNN.com, Daily Kos and hundreds of literary journals, websites and blogs. He has two published books, Violets for Beth (White Violet Press, 2012) and O, Terrible Angel (Ancient Cypress Press, 2013). A third book, Auschwitz Rose, is still in the chute but long delayed. Burch's poetry has been translated into 14 languages and set to music by 27 composers.

For an expanded bio, circum vitae and career timeline of the author, please click here: Michael R. Burch Expanded Bio.

Michael R. Burch related pages: Viral Poems, Early Poems, Early Poems Timeline, Rejection Slips, Epigrams and Quotes, Epitaphs, Romantic Poems, Sonnets, Light Verse, Parodies, Satires, Less Heroic Couplets, Free Verse, Prose Poems, Free Love Poems by Michael R. Burch, Poetry by Michael R. Burch, Poems about EROS and CUPID, The Cosmological Constant: Limericks by Michael R. Burch, Antinatalist Poetry, The Best Translations of Michael R. Burch, Dante Translations by Michael R. Burch, Translations of Roman, Latin and other Italian Poets, Poems by Michael R. Burch about Shakespeare, Why I Am Not A Christian

The HyperTexts