- By Michael R. Burch
In the Whispering Night
For George King
In the whispering night, when the stars bend low till the hills ignite to a shining flame, when a shower of meteors streaks the sky, and the lilies sigh in their beds, for shame, we must steal our souls, as they once were stolen, and gather our vigor, and all our intent. We must heave our bodies to some violent ocean and laugh as they shatter, and never repent. We must dance in the darkness as stars dance before us, soar, SOAR! through the night on a butterfly's breeze: blown high, upward-yearning, twin spirits returning to the world of resplendence from which we were seized.
Published in Songs of Innocence and Romantics Quarterly. This is a poem I wrote for my favorite college English teacher, George King.
Michael R. Burch is the editor of The HyperTexts, on-line at www.thehypertexts.com, where he has published hundreds of poets over the past twenty years. His poetry has been translated into eleven languages and set to music by three composers. A five-time Pushcart nominee, his poems, translations and essays have appeared in hundreds of literary journals, including Light Quarterly, The Lyric, Measure, Iambs & Trochees, Blue Unicorn, The Chariton Review, The Chimaera, Able Muse, Lucid Rhythms, Poem Today, Asses of Parnassus, Writer’s Digest—The Year’s Best Writing and The Best of the Eclectic Muse.