Poetry
Poems are my dearest friends.
Naught else on earth so well can mend
The lonely mind, dark failure’s smart,
Religion’s doubt, love’s troubled heart.
Pain made joy is song’s element.
Fine words ferment
The grapes of sorrow into the wine of art.
A Song
Never wed to Bob or Bert,
A maid too soon will wed the dirt.
Hey nah hey, whether king or slave,
Birth’s our betrothal to the grave.
Marry long your Bette or Beth;
You’ll marry longer still to death.
Hey nah hey, whether king or slave,
Birth’s our betrothal to the grave.
Keep a girl in every town;
You’ll be faithful enough beneath the ground.
Hey nah hey, whether king or slave,
Birth’s our betrothal to the grave.
Chaste as ice or passion’s slave
All boys and girls must find the grave.
Hey nah hey, whether king or slave,
Birth’s our betrothal to the grave.
Grass
I am the grass that protests the blade,
But the field it must be mown.
Tall or tan or man or maid,
For the sickle were we sown.
Credit: Open Art
Burl Horniachek is a Canadian poet and translator. He grew up in Saskatchewan and Alberta and studied Ancient Near Eastern Studies at the University of Toronto. He also studied creative writing at the University of Alberta with Derek Walcott and currently lives near Winnipeg, Manitoba. His work has appeared in Poetry East, Poetry International, Literary Imagination, TransLit, The Dark Mountain Project, and others.