The Shrinking Season
These are poems about the passage of time, aging, mortality and death.
The Shrinking Season
by Michael R. Burch
With every wearying year
the weight of the winter grows
and while the schoolgirl outgrows
her clothes,
the widow disappears
in hers.
Published by Angle, Poem Today (featured poem), Heartfelt Death Poems, Girls and Goblins and Madly Jane
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Distances
by Michael R. Burch
EPIGRAMS II
These are my modern English translations of epigrams by ancient poets like Homer, Rumi and Seneca.
Elevate your words, not their volume. Rain gros flowers, not thunder.
—Rumi, translation by Michael R. Burch
For the gods have decreed that unfortunate mortals must suffer, while they themselves are sorrowless.
—Homer (circa 800 BC), Iliad 24.525-526, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This and That
You said that or I thought you said that or I thought you said that
Or was it you said this and not that
I thought I'd figured it out but that wasn't it
Then what was it if it wasn't this or that
The more I think I have things figured out
The more I always seem to get it wrong
So I'll just throw my hands up in frustration
I'll never figure this one out and so who cares
It would be easier to figure out that age old question
Remember it...the secret of Life.
The Book Of The Visions Seen By Orm The Celt
Born in the evening of the world, and looking
Back from the sunset to the gates of morning.
And he is aged early, in a time
When all are aged early,—he was born
In twilight times, and in his soul is twilight.
O brother, hold me by the hand, and hearken,
For these things I shall phrase are thine and mine,
And all men's,—all are seeking for a sign.
Thou wert born yesterday, but thou art old,
Weary to-day, to-morrow thou wilt sleep—
Take these for kisses on thy closing eyelids.
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