This is my first sonnet, written as a teen, followed by other early sonnets and sonnet-like poems of mine ...
Sonnet 130 Refuted
by Michael R. Burch
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red ...
— Shakespeare, Sonnet 130
These are Romantic poems (with a capital R) that I have written under the influence of feminine beauty and poets like Sappho, e. e. cummings, Emily Dickinson, John Keats, Kevin N. Roberts, Percy Bysshe Shelley and Dylan Thomas.
She Gathered Lilacs
by Michael R. Burch
She gathered lilacs
and arrayed them in her hair;
tonight, she taught the wind to be free.
The moonrise in her sojourn of silver splendor,
can she compare to the heights of love?
far above the crowning precipice of Mount Everest,
where stars sweeten lovers' senses,
and swirl in their eyes,
so newly romantic are they.
In youthful breathlessness they promise
eternal devotions into golden age,
then kiss beneath a moonglow magnolia tree,
in summer's passionate beauty,
in the coolness of the eve,
as the sun faded and sleeps,
and lovers reach the heights of love.
Perchance, my shy love,
we can unite passionately
as slumbering magnolias awaken
with the moon's fancy,
in the summer gardens.
crackling, booming, electric atmosphere.....streaks of lightning, when they met
Poem on “kelebek ruyasi”
Scenes on the heart, left prints
Muzafer and Reshtu words
Poet's life is the longest poem
Hence both's masterpiece modern epics
In the butterfly dream love, peace exists
Poetry is not that of words clusters
But rather is a life, feelings that deliver
As in the movie Reshtu tells:
“ Poet is like a baker”,
So Here kenj’s paraphrase
Poets not for themselves they write
For nations, upcoming generations
Focus on the love found in the heart
Get the future free of wars
We were accustomed to being in the military, yet,
at summer's zenith, my sweetheart, and our two
friends, left behind the Ft. Myer barracks,
to spend a Saturday night at Lady Bird Johnson park,
fireflies lit the pathways, freedom of that festive
and in our youthful revelry of that humid July
gloaming, we drank to the joys of Navy life,
with Jack Daniels whiskey and Boone's Farm
we, in our drunkenness, quoted Poe and
what a soiree, what a mirthful moon-blessed
I remember Paris, Oh! So well,
went there so many times as a child,
the gabled windows at Montmartre,
and the Seine’s whispers mild.
The Pont du Alexander in grandeur,
and the blinking Eiffel lights,
Champs Elysees taking my breath,
and merry laughter by the nights.
Notre Dame of Hugo’s Hunchback,
the signs of intellectual ferment,
the story of fall of the Bastille,
still evoke my childhood dormant...
Because of You