The Composition Of Shadows Poem by Michael Burch

The Composition of Shadows (I)

'I made it out of a mouthful of air.'—W. B. Yeats

We breathe and so we write; the night
hums softly its accompaniment.
Pale phosphors burn; the page we turn
leads onward, and we smile, content.

And what we mean we write to learn:
the vowels of love, the consonants'
strange golden weight, each plosive's shape—
curved like the heart. Here, resonant, ...

sounds' shadows mass beneath bright glass
like singing voles curled in a maze
of blank white space. We touch a face—
long-frozen words trapped in a glaze

that insulates our hearts. Nowhere
can love be found. Just shrieking air.

Published by The Lyric, Candelabrum, Iambs & Trochees, Triplopia, Romantics Quarterly, Hidden Treasures, Yellow Bat Review, Poetry Life & Times, Vallance Review, Poetica Victorian, ImageNation (United Kingdom)



The Composition of Shadows (II)
by Michael R. Burch

We breathe and so we write;
the night
hums softly its accompaniment.

Pale phosphors burn;
the page we turn
leads onward, and we smile, content.

And what we mean
we write to learn:
the vowels of love, the consonants'

strange golden weight,
the blood's debate
within the heart. Here, resonant,

sounds' shadows mass
against bright glass,
within the white Labyrinthian maze.

Through simple grace,
I touch your face,
(ah words!) And I would gaze

the night's dark length
in waning strength
to find the words to feel

such light again.
O, for a pen
to spell love so ethereal.

Keywords/Tags: composition, write, writing, poetry, poem, night, pen, pencil, computer, monitor, love, alienation, lonely, loneliness