Burn The Beauty - Elizabeth McCrorie

Burn The Beauty

© Elizabeth McCrorie 

Published: July 2008

One does not own beauty.
One creates it.
In their dreams,
They feel they can obtain it.

All alone, in a dark night's
rest.
All their thoughts...
Lifeless.

Cursed by change
Hidden by lies,
Running from the truth.
Beauty now dies.

They don't understand.
They don't really care.
Beauty now burns
Smoke in the air.

Years go by,
And age seeps in.
Beauty's worn out,
Life is giving in.

Death creeps up,
Beauty now cries.
You're all alone
In your beautiful lies!

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/burn-the-beauty

Contemplative Division

is it normal
this mindset
the demonstrative fashion
flashy

I thought it punitive
I thought it course grade sandpaper

I thought the wind would whip us bare
I thought nothing-   then everything
and I though nothing of it

too many times my thoughts have proven
nothing

I can never stay with a thought long enough
to work it backwards the way you proof long division

math was never my best subject


Michael Allyn Wells (c) 2015

Hardly Worth Mentioning

A poem I wrote several years ago found a home at Punchnel's.

 Hardly Worth Mentioning  is the second poem of mine  to appear in  Punchnel's Magazine these last two months.

I always find interesting material in Punchnel's...It's a fun stop on the Internet and not just because of my work. ;-)

Poem Up On Punchnel's

My poem titles "Both" appears on Punchnel's today. This is a really interesting venue, an eclectic collection of material. Check it out!  Oh, and click here for my poem.

Dragonfly

Surround the summit
in flight
in exacerbation of wingspan
a sentinel aloft 

The Problem With Poetry

Shameless Self Promotion

A poem of mine is up at Montucky Review.  A thank you to the Editors!  

To view the poem simply titled Sis, Click here

Mag 98 / Poem: A Reminder

The bent elbow
slows progression-
force builds
pushing the river
around
over and beyond  

the banks like claws
snag what is delivered
from upstream

when the anger
has burnt itself out
the raging water fading
to original dignity-
scattered on banks
remain the wrath





Michael A. Wells



Magpie 98

Foxtrot - appearing in WestWard Quarterly Fall 2011

Earlier this fall my poem Foxtrot appeared in WestWard Quarterly.  Since this is a print publication there is not link to it but now that a little time has passed since the publication I have included now on the published poems page - see tab above or click here.

Magpie Tales 93 / Poem: How Size Matters



How Size Matters

a time

a place to stop

a sofa

against a rock solid platitude

on the main street of a life

of obligatory divestiture

of  inflexible options

of throwaway propositions

of too big to fail

of too small to matter

Michael A. Wells

Magpie Tales 93

Questions to ask when...

Dana Guthrie Martin asks the poignant  question, "Why does this poet live in my house, and is this the best place for her?"  Her Poem here

Magpie Tales 79: Poem: Maybe if We Hadn't Thrown the Cores

That summer we stuck
in the seats of the old Ford
our cotton clothing
clung to us wet
no one dared crank
the panes-

a few bugs would join
the ride but soon exit
the heat I think drove them
so we didn't

who knew there was
so much Missouri
corn and milo
some tobacco too

I lost count of orchards
stopped off for apples
juice dripping down
the chin- 

hurled the cores
onto the highway
till dad got after us

we saw signs
for real caves
but never stopped


Michael A. Wells

Magpie Tales 79

Out For a Drive

The flames rise on either side of the curves

and the fall wind threatens to spread the colors

about the ground.

The asphalt with shapely hips allures countless lookers

trusting the calendars will not deceive them

or waste their valued weekend.

A new delight awaits past each camber;

imperial topaz and alexandrite flickers in the autumn sky

subdued only by the occasional rust, tan or brown filament.

Technorati Tags: fall poem

Tricked

Ornamental excuses abound.
Window dressings, all of them
to purchase the justification
necessary to have his way
when validation was a rabbit
no where near the scene
of the black top hat.

Pocket Change

Humanity spilled- tossed about,

jingled in the the pockets

like small change.

A bit here and a piece there

the sum of which is whole

but spread about

without custodial care.

The casual acceptance-

disrespected by dispersal

to quail and disintegrate

in the shadows

of rich indifference.

Siblings by Michael A. Wells

An Audio Link of the revised version of Siblings.

Sonata

The third movement was less
obvious—

its sound rooted in the quietude
that often passes as peace, but is really
just a pause in fighting.

Anniversary

Anniversary

The odometer of fallen, rolls onward
Over too familiar terrain.
A merry-go-round insanity
Propelled by stubborn indignity,
Denials-
Capitulating nothing
While eating our young.

Pointless Query

Braking
through the layers

past
linen wrap

percolating pulp
without

reason or
necessity

till exposure
it answers.

Unknowingly

Unknowingly

I saw the sand bottom out
in the egg timer. There were no eggs
or time involved. Just an end to something
arbitrary- or was that in fact time?

Did it end of its own accord, or
because I turned the hourglass
and started a process unknowingly?

How many unknowings can there be in one day?