Be That Rock
by Michael R. Burch

for my grandfather, George Edwin Hurt Sr.

When I was a child
I never considered man’s impermanence,
for you were a mountain of adamant stone:
a man steadfast, immense,
and your words rang.

And when you were gone,
I still heard your voice, which never betrayed,
"Be strong and of a good courage,
neither be afraid ..."
as the angels sang.

And, O!, I believed
for your words were my truth, and I tried to be brave
though the years slipped away
with so little to save
of that talk.

Now I'm a man—
a man ... and yet Grandpa ... I'm still the same child
who sat at your feet
and learned as you smiled.
Be that rock.

I don't remember when I wrote this poem, but I will guess around age 18 in 1976. The verse quoted is from an old, well-worn King James Bible my grandfather gave me after his only visit to the United States, as he prepared to return to England with my grandmother. I was around eight at the time and didn't know if I would ever see my grandparents again, so I was heartbroken—destitute, really. Keywords/Tags: Grandfather, Grandpa, rock, shelter, fortress, strength, courage, angels, years, time, age, loss, truth, voice

They sprinkled
the streets in
holy water
and locked the city down
as if it were world war II.
Maybe there is hope
for the city of light
in this world of darkness.
So send your priests,
and send your angels,
and maybe,
just maybe,
we will be alright.

Like Angels, Winged
by Michael R. Burch

Like angels—winged,
shimmering, misunderstood—
they flit beyond our understanding
being neither evil, nor good.

They are as they are . . .
and we are their lovers, their prey;
they seek us out when the moon is full
and dream of us by day.

Their eyes—hypnotic, alluring—
trap ours with their strange appeal;
drawn like moths to flame, we gather . . .
to see, to touch, to feel.

And in their arms, enchanted,
we feel their lips young/old,
and with their gorging kisses—
we warm them, growing cold.

Published by Monumental Moments (Eye Scry Publications), Poetry Life & Times, Behance, Razor Sharp and Dracula & His Kin. Keywords/Tags: vampires, angels, winged, wings, flit, flitting, evil, good, lovers, prey, night, day, moths, flame, appeal, attraction, kisses, warm, cold

kicked out of the house with no shoes on
walking down the highway im so far gone

wiping the tears from my face before they freeze
after all theres a thirty degree breeze

waiting for someone to slow down and stop
other than some crooked cop

sent from above an angel appeared
some guy with a very long beard

most girls wouldve ran away
but he reminded me of my uncle billy who recently passed away monday

the smell of cigarettes in his car
made the drive seem not so far

The Gardener’s Roses
by Michael R. Burch

Mary Magdalene, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him, “Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away.”

I too have come to the cave;
within: strange, half-glimpsed forms
and ghostly paradigms of things.
Here, nothing warms

this lightening moment of the dawn,
pale tendrils spreading east.
And I, of all who followed Him,
by far the least . . .

The women take no note of me;
I do not recognize
the men in white, the gardener,
these unfamiliar skies . . .

Faint scent of roses, then—a touch!
I turn, and I see: You.
My Lord, why do You tarry here:
Another waits, Whose love is true?

Although My Father waits, and bliss;
though angels call—ecstatic crew!—
I gathered roses for a Friend.
I waited here, for You.

NOTE: I do not believe in Jesus as a “sacrifice” to a primitive “god” who demands the blood of innocents in order to “forgive” sins of his own making through a ghoulish "atonement." But I will not completely discount the hope that love can transcend death, although, like Thomas, I will have to see it to believe it. Keywords/Tags: Jesus, Christ, cave, grave, tomb, gardener, roses, angels, resurrection, Mary, Magdalene, love, heaven

heavenly appearance
feathered wings
soul full of perseverance
halo ring
the human pleads for interference
she picks up the golden spear
there is a duty to uphold
and flies through the tears and fear
life and death, she cannot control
but even then she is not as kind as she appears
oh the gold metal, shiny parts and all
shall pierce the human and the angel will fall