Poems Set to Music

I have been lucky enough, or possibly good enough, to have had 74 poems set to music by composers.

Over the years my poems have been set to music 74 times by 34 composers, from swamp blues to opera, and other poems have been used in various ways by playwrights, novelists, filmmakers, videographers, painters and other visual artists. I have collaborated on four operas, three plays and over 150 videos, the latter on YouTube, TikTok and similar platforms. Most of the videos are readings of my poems but there are also some enactments and animations, and even a cartoon.

In most cases my work was used "as is" but the operas did require a bit of tweaking here and there, and a few of the individual songs as well.

Martin Mc Carthy suggested that I create a page with the poems in question, and this is what I have been able to compile so far...

Will There Be Starlight
by Michael R. Burch

Will there be starlight
tonight
while she gathers
damask
and lilac
and sweet-scented heathers?

And will she find flowers,
or will she find thorns
guarding the petals
of roses unborn?

Will there be starlight
tonight
while she gathers
seashells
and mussels
and albatross feathers?

And will she find treasure
or will she find pain
at the end of this rainbow
of moonlight on rain?

Copyright © 2001 by Michael R. Burch; written circa age 17-18; set to music by David Hamilton; published by The Word (UK), The Chained Muse, Famous Poets and Poems, Inspirational Stories, Jenion, Starlight Archives, TALESetc, Writ in Water, Grassroots Poetry, Poetry Webring and Poezii, where it was translated into Romanian by Petru Dimofte.

I am especially proud of the fact that 112 poems I wrote in my teens have been published by literary journals and that seven of my teenage poems have been set to music by composers and/or translated into other languages:

These are poems of mine that have been set to music and/or translated, starting with some of my "younger" poems. Most of my poems set to music are listed at the bottom of this page, although I’ve had trouble keeping up recently...

Moon Lake
by Michael R. Burch

Starlit recorder of summer nights,
what magic spell bewitches you?
They say that all lovers love first in the dark . . .
Is it true?
Is it true?
Is it true?

Starry-eyed seer of all that appears
and all that has appeared—
What sights have you seen?
What dreams have you dreamed?
What rhetoric have you heard?

Is love an oration,
or is it a word?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?

Copyright © 1976 by Michael R. Burch; written in high school circa age 17-18; set to music by David Hamilton; selected by the New Zealand choir Choralation to perform at an important competition; originally published by Romantics Quarterly.

Frail Envelope of Flesh
by Michael R. Burch

for the mothers and children of Gaza

Frail envelope of flesh,
lying cold on the surgeon’s table
with anguished eyes
like your mother’s eyes
and a heartbeat weak, unstable ...

Frail crucible of dust,
brief flower come to this—
your tiny hand
in your mother’s hand
for a last bewildered kiss ...

Brief mayfly of a child,
to live two artless years!
Now your mother’s lips
seal up your lips
from the Deluge of her tears ...

Copyright © 1977 by Michael R. Burch; written circa age 19-21; set to music by Eduard de Boer and performed in Europe by the Palestinian soprano Dima Bawab; published by The Lyric, Promosaik (Germany), Setu (India), Sindhu News (India), Tho Tru Tinh (Vietnam), Orphans of Gaza, Irish Blog, Alarshef, Daily Motion and Poetry Life & Times; translated into Arabic by Nizar Sartawi, into Italian by Mario Rigli, and into Vietnamese by Ngu Yen.

The phrase "frail envelope of flesh" was one of my first encounters with the power of poetry, although I read it in a superhero comic book as a boy (I forget which one). I believe that was around age ten. Years later, the line kept popping into my head, so I wrote the poem while thinking of children who are the frailest envelopes of all in times of war.

How Long the Night
(Anonymous Middle English Lyric)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It is pleasant, indeed, while the summer lasts
with the mild pheasants' song ...
but now I feel the northern wind's blast—
its severe weather strong.
Alas! Alas! This night seems so long!
And I, because of my momentous wrong
now grieve, mourn and fast.

Copyright © 2012 by Michael R. Burch; originally published by Measure; set to music by Seth Wright and performed at La Schola Cantorum in Paris and by the Houghton College Greatbatch School of Music; set to music by the Athens-based rock band Illusory and used as the conclusion to their opus “Pedestal II: The Isle of Shadows.”

Styx
by Michael R. Burch

Black waters,
deep and dark and still . . .
all men have passed this way,
or will.

Copyright © 1976 by Michael R. Burch; written circa age 18; set to music by the Russian composer Ekaterina Steppe aka Kotik Ptic; published by The Raintown Review, Blue Unicorn and Poezii, where it was translated into Romanian by Petru Dimofte.

Something
by Michael R. Burch

for the children of the Holocaust and the Nakba

Something inescapable is lost—
lost like a pale vapor curling up into shafts of moonlight,
vanishing in a gust of wind toward an expanse of stars
immeasurable and void.

Something uncapturable is gone—
gone with the spent leaves and illuminations of autumn,
scattered into a haze with the faint rustle of parched grass
and remembrance.

Something unforgettable is past—
blown from a glimmer into nothingness, or less,
which denial has swept into a corner ... where it lies
in dust and cobwebs and silence.

Copyright © 1976 by Michael R. Burch; written circa age 18-19; published by There is Something in the Autumn (anthology), The Eclectic Muse (Canada), Setu (India), FreeXpression (Australia), Life and Legends, Poetry Super Highway, Poet’s Corner, Promosaik (Germany), Better Than Starbucks and The Chained Muse; it has also been used in numerous Holocaust projects; translated into Romanian by Petru Dimofte; translated into Turkish by Nurgül Yayman; turned into a YouTube video by Lillian Y. Wong; and used by Windsor Jewish Community Centre during a candle-lighting ceremony.

"Something" was the first poem that I wrote that didn't rhyme. I believe I wrote it in 1976 or 1977, which would have made me around 18-19 at the time. The poem came to me "from blue nothing" (to borrow a phrase from my friend the Maltese poet Joe Ruggier). Years later, I dedicated the poem to the children of the Holocaust and the Nakba.

The Effects of Memory
by Michael R. Burch

A black ringlet
curls to lie
at the nape of her neck,
glistening with sweat
in the evaporate moonlight …
This is what I remember

now that I cannot forget.

And tonight,
if I have forgotten her name,
I remember:
rigid wire and white lace
half-impressed in her flesh …

our soft cries, like regret,

… the enameled white clips
of her bra strap
still inscribe dimpled marks
that my kisses erase …

now that I have forgotten her face.

Copyright © 1999 by Michael R. Burch; originally published by Poetry Magazine; set to music by David Hamilton.

Earthbound
by Michael R. Burch

Tashunka Witko, better known as Crazy Horse, had a vision of a red-tailed hawk at Sylvan Lake, South Dakota. In his vision he saw himself riding a floating and crazily-dancing spirit horse through a storm as the hawk flew above him, shrieking. When he awoke, a red-tailed hawk was perched near his horse.

Earthbound,
and yet I now fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that no sound
echoing by
below where the mountains are lifting
the sky
can be heard.

Like a bird,
but not meek,
like a hawk from a distance regarding its prey,
I will shriek,
not a word,
but a screech,
and my terrible clamor will turn them to clay—
the sheep,
the earthbound.

Copyright © 1977 by Michael R. Burch; written circa age 19-20; slated to be set to music by Cedomir Stanojevic and the Serbian band About Lorca (forthcoming); published by Boston Poetry Magazine, Native American Indian Pride and Native American Poems, Prayers and Stories.

Herbsttag ("Autumn Day")
by Rainer Maria Rilke
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Lord, it is time. Let the immense summer go.
Lay your long shadows over the sundials
and over the meadows, let the free winds blow.
Command the late fruits to fatten and shine;
O, grant them another Mediterranean hour!
Urge them to completion, and with power
convey final sweetness to the heavy wine.
Who has no house now, never will build one.
Who's alone now, shall continue alone;
he'll wake, read, write long letters to friends,
and pace the tree-lined pathways up and down,
restlessly, as autumn leaves drift and descend.

Copyright © 2013 by Michael R. Burch; set to music by Zou Meicheng; originally published by Measure.

Auschwitz Rose
by Michael R. Burch

There is a Rose at Auschwitz, in the briar,
a rose like Sharon's, lovely as her name.
The world forgot her, and is not the same.
I revere her and enlist this sacred fire
to keep her memory's exalted flame
unmolested by the thistles and the nettles.

On Auschwitz now the reddening sunset settles;
they sleep alike—diminutive and tall,
the innocent, the "surgeons."
                                              Sleeping, all.
Red oxides of her blood, bright crimson petals,
if accidents of coloration, gall
my heart no less.
                           Amid thick weeds and muck
there lies a rose man's crackling lightning struck:
the only Rose I ever longed to pluck.
Soon I'll bed there and bid the world "Good Luck."

Copyright © 2003 by Michael R. Burch; turned into an artistic and moving YouTube video by Lillian Y. Wong; originally published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea.

"I rendered 'Auschwitz Rose' and 'At Wilfred Owen's Grave.' I don't mean to swell your ego but I am amazed at how powerful those poems became to me during the rendering. It just makes you think, how much I missed as a reader by reading your poetry too quickly the first few times." — Lillian Y. Wong

Where Does the Butterfly Go?
by Michael R. Burch

Where does the butterfly go
when lightning rails,
when thunder howls,
when hailstones scream,
when winter scowls,
when nights compound dark frosts with snow ...
Where does the butterfly go?

Where does the rose hide its bloom
when night descends oblique and chill
beyond the capacity of moonlight to fill?
When the only relief's a banked fire's glow,
where does the butterfly go?

And where shall the spirit flee
when life is harsh, too harsh to face,
and hope is lost without a trace?
Oh, when the light of life runs low,
where does the butterfly go?

Copyright © 2012 by Michael R. Burch; set to music first by Eduard de Boer and later by Pauli Hansen; also published by Tucumcari Literary Review, Romantics Quarterly, Poetry Life & Times, Victorian Violet Press (where it was nominated for a “Best of the Net”), The Contributor (a Nashville homeless newspaper) and Siasat (Pakistan).

This poem, titled "For a Ukrainian Child with Butterflies," was set to music by Pauli Hansen and performed by a choir in a concert at the Nordic House in Torshavn, Faroe Islands.

Estonian composer Helena Loorents is working on the music for a version titled "For a Palestinian Child, with Butterflies" (forthcoming).

I Pray Tonight
by Michael R. Burch

(The music is initially melancholy.)

I pray tonight
the starry Light
might
surround you.

(The music remains melancholy.)

I pray
by day
that, come what may,
no dark thing confound you.

(With the last two lines, the music becomes brighter and more hopeful.)

I pray ere the morrow
an end to your sorrow.
May angels' white chorales
sing, and astound you.

Copyright © 2006 by Michael R. Burch; set to music by Mark Buller and later by David Hamilton; originally published by Kritya (India).

Composer Mark Buller used the lyrics of "I Pray Tonight" in his musical composition Erasure, a song cycle for baritone, clarinet and piano on the theme of gun violence. "I Pray Tonight" was later performed as "Elegy" at the Hurricane Harvey Relief Concert by the Apollo Chamber Players in partnership with Musiqa Houston and Jazz Forever at the MATCH (Midtown Arts and Theater Center Houston), on September 8, 2017. All proceeds (over $8,000) went towards the Hurricane Harvey Relief Funds.

"I Pray Tonight" was also set to music by Kyle Scheuing.

Fascination with Light
by Michael R. Burch

Death glides in on calico wings,
a breath of a moth
seeking a companionable light,

where it hovers, unsure,
sullen, shy or demure,
in the margins of night,

a soft blur.

With a frantic dry rattle
of alien wings,
it rises and thrums one long breathless staccato

then flutters and drifts on in dark aimless flight.

And yet it returns
to the flame, its delight,
as long as it burns.

Copyright © 1999 by Michael R. Burch; published by New Lyre and The Chained Muse (and recited twice in a TCM podcast); translated into Chinese by Chen Bolai; set to music by David Hamilton and performed by the Jade String Quartet.

Indestructible, for Johnny Cash
by Michael R. Burch

What is a mountain, but stone?
Or a spire, but a trinket of steel?
Johnny Cash is gone,
black from his hair to his bootheels.

Can a man out-endure mountains’ stone
if his songs lift us closer to heaven?
Can the steel in his voice vibrate on
till his words are our manna and leaven?

Then sing, all you mountains of stone,
with the rasp of his voice, and the gravel.
Let the twang of thumbed steel lead us home
through these weary dark ways all men travel.

For what is a mountain, but stone?
Or a spire, but a trinket of steel?
Johnny Cash lives on—
black from his hair to his bootheels.

Copyright © 2006 by Michael R. Burch; set to music by Mike Strand and performed by Gary Deslaurier and the swamp-blues band Old Dog Daddy & The Dagnabbits; originally published by Strong Verse.

Ali’s Song
by Michael R. Burch

They say that gold don’t tarnish. It ain’t so.
They say it has a wild, unearthly glow.
A man can be more beautiful, more wild.
I flung their medal to the river, child.
I flung their medal to the river, child.

They hung their coin around my neck; they made
my name a bridle, “called a spade a spade.”
They say their gold is pure. I say defiled.
I flung their slave’s name to the river, child.
I flung their slave’s name to the river, child.

Ain’t got no quarrel with no Viet Cong
that never called me nigger, did me wrong.
A man can’t be lukewarm, ’cause God hates mild.
I flung their notice to the river, child.
I flung their notice to the river, child.

They said, “Now here’s your bullet and your gun,
and there’s your cell: we’re waiting, you choose one.”
At first I groaned aloud, but then I smiled.
I gave their “future” to the river, child.
I gave their “future” to the river, child.

My face reflected up, more bronze than gold,
a coin God stamped in His own image—Bold.
My blood boiled like that river—strange and wild.
I died to hate in that dark river, child.
Come, be reborn in this bright river, child.

Copyright © 2002 by Michael R. Burch; published by Black Medina, Bashgah (Iran, in a Farsi translation), Other Voices International, Thanal Online (India) and Freshet; also published as a YouTube video with music, by Lillian Y. Wong.

Note: Cassius Clay, who converted to Islam and changed his “slave name” to Muhammad Ali, said that he threw his Olympic boxing gold medal into the Ohio River. When drafted during the Vietnamese War, Ali refused to serve, reputedly saying, “I ain't got no quarrel with those Viet Cong; no Vietnamese ever called me a nigger.”

Epitaph for a Child of the Holocaust
by Michael R. Burch

I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.

Copyright © 2001 by Michael R. Burch; set to music by Sloane Simon; widely published and appeared on 92K web pages at one time, according to Google; published by major newspapers and new services including Daily Kos, Eurasia Review, One News Page (UK), SindhuNews (India) and Colombo Telegraph (Sri Lanka).

Titled "Epitaph for a Homeless Child" my epitaph was published by Armand Amar with his composition "Home."

Used as the lead epigraph in Genocide: A Political Discretion by Nagendram Braveen and published on Academia.edu. Used to lead off an article in Eurasia Review by K. M. Seethi, a director, dean and professor at Mahatma Gandhi University in Kerala. Translated into Romanian by Petru Dimofte and published in Poezii.

Moments
by Michael R. Burch

There were moments full of promise,
like the petal-scented rainfall of early spring,
when to hold you in my arms and to kiss your willing lips
seemed everything.

There are moments strangely empty
full of pale unearthly twilight—how the cold stars stare!—
when to be without you is a dark enchantment
the night and I share.

Copyright © 1998 by Michael R. Burch; set to music by David Hamilton; published by Romantics Quarterly, Tucumcari Literary Review, Poezii (in a Romanian translation by Petru Dimofte), Borderless Journal (Singapore), The Chained Muse, Lone Stars, Grassroots Poetry, in a Soundcloud reading by Vex Darkly, and in YouTube readings by Ben W. Smith and Jasper Sole.

Liebes-Lied (“Love Song”)
by Rainer Maria Rilke
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

How can I withhold my soul so that it doesn’t touch yours?
How can I lift mine gently to higher things, alone?
Oh, I would gladly find something lost in the dark
in that inert space that fails to resonate until you vibrate.
There everything that moves us, draws us together like a bow
enticing two taut strings to sing together with a simultaneous voice.
Whose instrument are we becoming together?
Whose, the hands that excite us?
Ah, sweet song!

Copyright © 2021 by Michael R. Burch; set to music by David Hamilton; originally published by Setu (India).

Der Himmel ("The Heavens")
by Ber Horvitz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

These skies
are leaden, heavy, gray ...
I long for a pair
of deep blue eyes.

The birds have fled
far overseas;
Tomorrow I’ll migrate too,
I said ...

These gloomy autumn days
it rains and rains.
Woe to the bird
Who remains ...

Copyright © 2021 by Michael R. Burch; set to music by Ella Roberts; originally published by Poetry in Hell.

Distances
by Michael R. Burch

Moonbeams on water —
the reflected light
of a halcyon star
now drowning in night …
So your memories are.

Footprints on beaches
now flooding with water;
the small, broken ribcage
of some primitive slaughter …
So near, yet so far.

Copyright © 2012 by Michael R. Burch; set to music by David Hamilton; published by Poetry Porch/Sonnet Scroll and New Lyre.

In the first stanza the "halcyon star" is the sun, which has dropped below the horizon and is thus "drowning in night." But its light strikes the moon, creating moonbeams which are reflected by the water. Sometimes memories seem that distant, that faint, that elusive. Footprints are being washed away, a heart is missing from its ribcage, and even things close at hand can seem infinitely beyond our reach.

Chit Chat: In the Poetry Chat Room
by Michael R. Burch

WHY SHULD I LERN TO SPELL?
HELL,
NO ONE REEDS WHAT I SAY
ANYWAY!!! :(

Sing for the cool night,
whispers of constellations.
Sing for the supple grass,
the tall grass, gently whispering.
Sing of infinities, multitudes,
of all that lies beyond us now,
whispers begetting whispers.
And i am glad to also whisper...

I WUS HURT IN LUV I’M DYIN’
FER TH’ TEARS I BEEN A-CRYIN’!!!

i abide beyond serenities
and realms of grace,
above love’s misdirected earth,
i lift my face.
i am beyond finding now...

I WAS IN, LOVE, AND HE SCREWED ME!!!
THE JERK!!! TOTALLY!!!

i loved her once, before, when i
was mortal too, and sometimes i
would listen and distinctly hear
her laughter from the juniper,
but did not go...

I JUST DON’T GET POETRY, SOMETIMES.
IT’S OKAY, I GUESS.
I REALLY DON’T READ THAT MUCH AT ALL,
I MUST CONFESS!!! ;-)

Travail, inherent to all flesh,
i do not know, nor how to feel.
Although i sing them nighttimes still:
the bitter woes, that do not heal...

POETRY IS BORING.
SEE, IT SUCKS!!!, I’M SNORING!!! ZZZZZZZ!!!

The words like breath, i find them here,
among the fragrant juniper,
and conifers amid the snow,
old loves imagined long ago...

WHY DON’T YOU LIKE MY PERFICKT WORDS
YOU USELESS UN-AMERIC’N TURDS?!!!

What use is love, to me, or Thou?
O Words, my awe, to fly so smooth
above the anguished hearts of men
to heights unknown, Thy bare remove...

Copyright © 2000 by Michael R. Burch; set to music by David Hamilton; published by The Chained Muse.

My poem “Sing for the Cool Night” was set to music by David Hamilton, without the upper case stanzas of "Chit Chat," as the opening piece of “Songs of Love and the Stars,” a song cycle for bass and piano that he wrote for Taiwanese bass Alfredo Chiang. The six song cycle features musical settings of the poems “Sing for the Cool Night” by moi, “Stars” by Sara Teasdale, “The Sea Hath Its Pearls” by Heinrich Heine and translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “Star Song” by Robert Underwood Johnson, “Golden Moonrise” by William Stanley Braithwaite, and concludes with my poem “Distances.”

Lay Down Your Arms
by Michael R. Burch

Lay down your arms; come, sleep in the sand.
The battle is over and night is at hand.
Our voyage has ended; there's nowhere to go ...
the earth is a cinder still faintly aglow.

Lay down your pamphlets; let's bicker no more.
Instead, let us sleep here on this ravaged shore.
The sea is still boiling; the air is wan, thin ...
lay down your pamphlets; now no one will “win.”

Lay down your hymnals; abandon all song.
If God was to save us, He waited too long.
A new world emerges, but this world is through ...
so lay down your hymnals, or write something new.

Copyright © 1978 by Michael R. Burch; written circa age 20; being set to music by the Brazilian musician Eduardo Agni; originally published by The Romantist.

We Came Together
by Michael R. Burch

We came together – people of two lands
so unalike, at first, we hardly knew
how to be friends. We went to war, and drew

lines in the sand. And yet the sky was blue
for everyone, and big enough to share.
We came together, and our friendships grew.

We had to learn to share the selfsame air,
to find the rock-strewn paths to harmony –
to find some common ground and let peace bloom.
We came together and we gave hope room

to blossom in our hearts. We learned to be
together, in our common destiny.

We came together – people of many lands
so unalike, at first ... but now we know
how to be friends.

Copyright © 2022 by Michael R. Burch; set to music by David Hamilton; originally published by The HyperTexts.

"We Came Together" was performed by the Pakuranga Choral Society on Nov. 12, 2022 at the Saturday civic/ecumenical service at Howick’s All Saints Anglican Church as part of Howick’s 175th anniversary events. I was mentioned as the lyricist by the New Zealand Times.

Willy Nilly
by Michael R. Burch

Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly?
You made the stallion,
you made the filly,
and now they sleep
in the dark earth, stilly.
Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly?

Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly?
You forced them to run
all their days uphilly.
They ran till they dropped—
life’s a pickle, dilly.
Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly?

Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly?
They say I should worship you!
Oh, really!
They say I should pray
so you’ll not act illy.
Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly?

Copyright © 2020 by Michael R. Burch; set to music and performed by Gary Deslaurier of the swamp-blues band Old Dog Daddy & The Dagnabbits; published by The New Formalist, Poet’s Corner, The Road Not Taken and Charlie Hebdo Poetry.

Cædmon's Hymn (circa 658-680 AD)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Humbly we honour      heaven-kingdom's Guardian,
the Measurer's might       and his mind-plans,
the goals of the Glory-Father.     First he, the Everlasting Lord,
established      earth's fearful foundations.
Then he, the First Scop,      hoisted heaven as a roof
for the sons of men:      Holy Creator,
mankind's great Maker!      Then he, the Ever-Living Lord,
afterwards made men middle-earth:      Master Almighty!

Copyright © 2012 by Michael R. Burch; set to music by composer Dawn Walters; published by A Long Story Short, Better Than Starbucks, academia.edu (in “Famous Sonnets of English Poets” by Mohsin Mirza) and Vox Populi.

At Wilfred Owen's Grave
by Michael R. Burch

A week before the Armistice, you died.
They did not keep your heart like Livingstone's,
then plant your bones near Shakespeare's. So you lie
between two privates, sacrificed like Christ
to politics, your poetry unknown
except for one brief flurry: thirteen months
with Gaukroger beside you in the trench,
dismembered, as you babbled, as the stench
of gangrene filled your nostrils, till you clenched
your broken heart together and the fist
began to pulse with life, so close to death.

Or was it at Craiglockhart, in the care
of "ergotherapists" that you sensed life
is only in the work, and made despair
a thing that Yeats despised, but also breath,
a mouthful's merest air, inspired less
than wrested from you, and which we confess
we only vaguely breathe: the troubled air
that even Sassoon failed to share, because
a man in pieces is not healed by gauze,
and breath's transparent, unless we believe
the words are true despite their lack of weight
and float to us like chlorine—scalding eyes,
and lungs, and hearts. Your words revealed the fate
of boys who retched up life here, gagged on lies.

Copyright © 2002 by Michael R. Burch; turned into an artistic video by Lillian Y. Wong; originally published by The Chariton Review.

The Last Enchantment
by Michael R. Burch

Oh, Lancelot, my truest friend,
how time has thinned your ragged mane
and pinched your features; still you seem
though, much, much changed—somehow unchanged.

Your sword hand is, as ever, ready,
although the time for swords has passed.
Your eyes are fierce, and yet so steady
meeting mine ... you must not ask.

The time is not, nor ever shall be,
for Merlyn’s words were only words;
and now his last enchantment wanes,
and we must put aside our swords ...

Originally published by Trinacria, then set to music in a Martins Garden SoundCloud musical interpretation.

I wrote "The Last Enchantment" around age 18.

Midnight Lullaby
by Michael R. Burch

I.
A measureless rhythm rules the night—
few have heard it,
but I have shared it,
and its secret is mine.

To put it into words
is as to extract the sweetness from honey
and must be done as gently
as a butterfly cleans its wings.

But when it is captured, it is gone again;
its usefulness is only
that it lulls to sleep.

II.

So sleep, my love, to the cadence of night,
to the moans of the moonlit hills’
bass chorus of frogs, while the deep valleys fill
with the nightjar’s shrill, cryptic trills.

But I will not sleep this night, nor any;
how can I—when my dreams
are always of your perfect face
ringed by soft whorls of fretted lace,
framed by your tear-drenched pillowcase?

Set to music by David Hamilton and performed by the Jade String Quartet.

We Come Together, Holding Hands (I)
by Michael R. Burch

We come together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it’s what the day demands.

We come together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We come together, seeking peace;
it’s what the day decrees.

The time is right. The time is now.
We come together, knowing how
the world depends on us to know
the only time to love is now.

We come together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it’s what the day demands.

We come together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We come together, seeking peace;
it’s what the day decrees.

Copyright © 2022 by Michael R. Burch; set to music by David Hamilton; originally published by The HyperTexts.

We Come Together, Holding Hands (II)
by Michael R. Burch

We come together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it's what the day demands.

We come together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We come together, seeking peace;
it's what the day decrees.

Earthbound,
and yet we fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that all our songs
that echo where mountains stand lifting
the sky…
can be heard.

The time is right. The time is now.
We come together, knowing how
the world depends on us to know
the only time to love is now.

Earthbound,
and yet we fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that all our songs
that echo where mountains stand lifting
the sky…
can be heard.

We sing together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it's what the day demands.

We sing together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We sing together, seeking peace;
it's what the day decrees.

Copyright © 2022 by Michael R. Burch; set to music by David Hamilton; originally published by The HyperTexts.



THE CHILDREN OF GAZA LYRICS

The Children of Gaza lyrics are poems written by Michael R. Burch with adaptations made cooperatively by Burch and Eduard de Boer. After each song lyric there is a brief history of how the poem came to be written and how it was incorporated into the larger story. 

Please note that the original poems have been modified in places to fit the music.

I. Prologue: Where does the Butterfly go?

I'd love to sing about things of beauty,
like a butterfly, fluttering amid flowers,
but I can't,
I can't …

Where does the butterfly go
when lightning rails
when thunder howls
when hailstones scream
while winter scowls
and nights compound dark frosts with snow,
where does the butterfly go?

Where does the rose hide its bloom
when night descends oblique and chill
beyond the power of moonlight to fill?
When the only relief's a banked fire's glow,
where does the butterfly go?

Where does the butterfly go
when mothers cry
while children die
and politicians lie, politicians lie?
When the darkness of grief blots out all that we know:
when love and life are running low,
where does the butterfly go?

And how shall the spirit take wing
when life is harsh, too harsh to face,
and hope is flown without a trace?
When the light of life runs low,
where does the butterfly go,
where does the butterfly go?

[NOTE: The first stanza was added at the request of Eduard de Boer. The fourth stanza contains a number of revisions. The rest of the poem is very close to the original, which I wrote for a young woman who committed suicide. I had dated her briefly, and could tell that she was very sad. She later dated a friend of mine, and they were engaged to be married at the time of her death. Soon thereafter the question "Where does the butterfly go?" came to me and became a poem. I later dedicated the poem to the mothers and children of the Palestinian Nakba. The poem has been published by Tucumcari Literary Review, Romantics Quarterly, Poetry Life & Times, Victorian Violet Press (where it was nominated for a “Best of the Net”), The Contributor (a Nashville homeless newspaper, as “For a Homeless Child, with Butterflies”), and by the Pakistani journal Siasat (as “For a Palestinian Child, with Butterflies”). The poem has also "gone viral" and is even being taught in schools.―MRB]

II. The Raid

When the soldiers came to our house,
I was quiet, quiet as a mouse…
But when they beat down our door with a battering ram,
and I heard their machine guns go "Blam! Blam! Blam!"
I ran! I ran! I ran!

First I ran to the cupboard and crept inside;
then I fled to my bed and crawled under, to hide.
I could hear my mother shushing my sister…
How I hoped and prayed that the bullets missed her!
My sister! My sister! My sister!
Then I ran next door, to my uncle's house,
still quiet, quiet as a mouse...
Young as I am, I did understand
that they had come to take our land!
Our land! Our land! Our land!
They've come to take our land!

They shot my father, they shot my mother,
they shot my dear sister, and my big brother!
They shot down my hopes, they shot down my dreams!
I still hear their screams!
Their screams! Their screams!

Now I am here: small, and sad, and still ...
no mother, no father, no family, no will.
They took everything I ever had.
Now how can I live, with no mom and no dad?
How can I live, with no mom and no dad?
How can I live? How can I live?

[NOTE: This poem was written specifically for the song cycle, with considerable input from Ed. I think repetitions were his idea, for instance.―MRB]

III. For God’s Sake, I'm only a Child

For God’s sake, ah, for God's sake, I’m only a child —
and all you’ve allowed me to learn
are these tears scalding my cheeks,
this ache in my gut at the sight
of so many corpses, so much horrifying blood!

For God’s sake, I’m only a child —
you talk about your need for “security,”
but what about my right to play
in streets not piled with dead bodies
still smoking with white phosphorous!

Ah, for God’s sake, I’m only a child —
for me there's no beauty in the world
and peace has become an impossible dream;
destruction is all I know
because of your deceptions.

For God’s sake, I’m only a child —
fear and terror surround me
stealing my breath as I lie
shaking like a windblown leaf.
For God’s sake, for God's sake, I'm only a child,
I'm only a child, I'm only a child.

[NOTE: This free verse poem was also written specifically for the song cycle, once again with considerable input from Ed.―MRB]

IV. King of the World

If I were King of the World, I would make
every child free, for my people’s sake.
And once I had freed them, they’d all run and scream
straight to my palace, for free ice cream!
[Directly to the audience, spoken:]
Why are you laughing? Can’t a young king dream?

If I were King of the World, I would banish
hatred and war, and make mean men vanish.
Then, in their place, I’d bring in a circus
with lions and tigers (but they’d never hurt us!)

If I were King of the World, I would teach
the preachers to always do as they preach;
and so they could practice being of good cheer,
we’d have Christmas —and sweets—each day of the year!
[Directly to the audience, spoken:]
Why are you laughing? Some dreams do appear!

If I were King of the World, I would send
my couns'lors of peace to the wide world’s end ...

[spoken:] But all this hard dreaming is making me thirsty!
I proclaim lemonade; please [spoken] bring it in a hurry!

If I were King of the World, I would fire
racists and bigots, with their message so dire.
And we wouldn’t build walls, to shut people out.
I would build amusement parks, have no doubt!

If I were King of the World, I would make
every child blessed, for my people’s sake,
and every child safe, and every child free,
and every child happy, especially me!
[Directly to the audience:]
[spoken] Why are you laughing? Appoint me and see!

[NOTE: This poem was inspired by a poem by a young Palestinian boy whom I had published many years ago. While the poem above was "written from scratch" for the song cycle, the idea of a Palestinian boy changing the world to be more fair did originate with a very young Palestinian writer. Unfortunately, I don't know his name because the teacher I worked with protected her students by not revealing their names. I remember Ed saying that the audience would need a brief respite because of the dark theme, and the little boy's "I Have a Dream" imagining helped me come up with the resulting poem.―MRB]

V. Mother’s Smile

There never was a fonder smile
than mother's smile, no softer touch
than mother's touch. So sleep awhile
and know she loves you more than "much".

So more than "much", much more than "all".
Though tender words, these do not speak
of love at all, nor how we fall
and mother's there, nor how we reach
from nightmares in the ticking night
and she is there to hold us tight.

There never was a stronger back
than father's back, that held our weight
and lifted us, when we were small,
and bore us till we reached the gate,
then held our hands that first bright mile
till we could run, and did, and flew.
But, oh, a mother's tender smile
will leap and follow after you ...

[NOTE: This poem remains exactly as I wrote it originally, I believe. I had long wondered: "Why are there no great poems written by great poets to their mothers?" A real mystery! While I can't claim to be a great poet or to have written a great poem, at least I did write a poem for my mother! But I will dedicate it to all mothers everywhere. "Mother’s Smile" won the UK Penguin Books Valentine’s Day Contest many years ago. The poem has been published by TALESetc, Care2Care, Famous Poets and Poems, Poems for Big Kids (Anthology) and Penguin Books. It has also been translated in Arabic by the Palestinian poet Iqbal Tamimi.―MRB]

VI. In the Shelter

Mother:
Hush my darling, please don’t cry.

The bombs will stop dropping, by and by.
Hush, I'll sing you a lullaby…

Child:
Mama, I know that I’m safe in your arms.
Your sweet love protects me from all harms,
but still I fear the sirens’ alarms!

Mother:
Hush now my darling, don’t say a word.
My love will protect you, whatever you heard.
Hush now…

Child:
But what about pappa, you loved him too.

Mother:
My love will protect you.
My love will protect you!

Child:
I know that you love me, but pappa is gone!

Mother:
Your pappa’s in heaven, where nothing goes wrong.
Come, rest at my breast and I’ll sing you a song.

Child:
But pappa was strong, and now he’s not here.

Mother:
He’s where he must be, and yet ever-near.
Now we both must be strong; there's nothing to fear.

Child:
The bombs are still falling! Will this night never end?

Mother:
The deep darkness hides us; the night is our friend.
Hush, I'll sing you a lullaby.

Child:
Yes, mama, I'm sure you are right.
We will be safe under cover of night.
[spoken] But what is that sound? [screamed] Mama! I am fri(ghtened)….!

[NOTE: This poem was written specifically for the song cycle, with considerable input from Ed. I believe the original inspiration was a lullaby.―MRB]

VII. Frail Envelope of Flesh

Frail envelope of flesh,
lying on the surgeon's table
with anguished eyes
like your mother's eyes
and a heartbeat weak, unstable…

Frail crucible of dust,
brief flower come to this–
your tiny hand
in your mother's hand
for a last bewildered kiss…

Brief mayfly of a child,
to live five artless years…
Now your mother's lips
seal up your lips
from the Deluge of her tears…

[NOTE: I believe this poem is just one word different from the original, which had "lying cold" in line two. The poem has a very unusual genesis, because I found the phrase "Frail envelope of flesh!" in a superhero comic book. That was my "initiation" as a poet into the power of words. I was probably around age ten at the time. Years later the phrase was still "stuck" in my mind, and I decided to use it in a poem. The poem has been published by The Lyric and Poetry Life & Times, and has also "gone viral" to some degree, appearing in a slideshow and on around 35 web pages.―MRB]

VIII. Among the Angels

Child:
There is peace where I am now,
I reside in a heavenly land
that rests safe in the palm
of a loving Being’s hand;
where the butterfly finds shelter
and the white dove glides to rest
in the bright and shining sands
of those shores all men call Blessed.

Mother:
My darling, how I long to touch your face,
to see your smile,
to hear your laughter’s grace.
Great Allah, hear my plea.
Return my child to me.

Child:
My darling mother, here beyond the stars
where I now live,
I see and feel your tears,
but here is peace and joy, and no more pain.
Here is where I will remain.

Mother:
My darling, do not leave me here alone!
Come back to me!
Why did you turn to stone?
Great Allah, hear my plea.
Please send my child back to me...

Child:
Dear mother, to your wonderful love I bow.
But I can't return...
I am among the Angels now.
Do not worry about me.
Here is where I long to be.

Mother:
My darling, it is as if I hear your voice
consoling me.
Oh, can this be your choice?
Great Allah, hear my plea.
Impart wisdom to me.

Child:
Dear mother, I was born of your great love,
a gentle spirit...
I died a slaughtered dove,
that I might bring this message from the stars:
it is time to end earth’s wars.

Remember—in both Bible and Koran
how many times each precious word is used—
“Mercy. Compassion. Justice.” Let each man,
each woman live by the Law
that rules both below and above:
reject all hate and embrace Love.

[NOTE: This poem was written specifically for the song cycle, with considerable input from Ed. I believe the first line was influenced by a poem I wrote as a teenager after watching a TV show about Woodstock. The poem began "There is peace where I am going." This poem was also influenced by my studies of near-death experiences, or NDEs. Many people who have NDEs speak of entering a place that sounds like heaven, and they usually don't want to return to life on earth!―MRB]

IX. Epilogue. I have a dream

I have a dream...
that one day all the world
will see me as I am:
a small child, lonely and afraid,
a small child, lonely and afraid.

Look at me... I am flesh...
I laugh, I bleed, I cry.
Look at me; I dare you
to look me in the eye
and tell me and my mother
how I deserve to die.

I only ask to live
in a world where things are fair;
I only ask for love
in a world where people share,
I only ask for love
in a world where people share.

Oh, I have a dream...
that one day all the world
will see me as I am:
a small child, lonely and afraid,
a small child, lonely and afraid.

[NOTE: The first stanza of this poem was taken from a poem that I wrote for THT's Gaza poetry page (although I credited the poem to "The Child Poets of Gaza" because I thought readers would be more receptive to such a poem written by a child). The rest of the poem was written specifically for the song cycle, with considerable input from Ed. The original poem was influenced by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s famous "I Have a Dream" speech.―MRB]



Oratorium Toward a Golden Future
by Eduard de Boer

V. The World Grinded to a Halt
lyrics by Michael R. Burch

CHOIR
At long last, the pandemic hit.
The virus streaked around the globe,
as many experts had foretold.
A sense of foreboding preceded it.
BARITONE
The plague soon spread,
left many dead.
The illness whirled and swirled.
It travelled fast,
at speeds unsurpassed,
infecting and killing as it twirled,
infecting and killing as it twirled.
The pandemic proved deadly for the economy.
Shops and offices sat idle, due to the disease,
devoid of both customers and employees.
Many companies lost their autonomy.[1]
TENOR
Collateral damage
is a strange demise:
the degree of trouble,
that one can create
by solving a given problem…
Time and again it’s a surprise.[2]
CHOIR
The pandemic inflamed the globe.
The virus spread like wildfire.
The worldwide message, as it was told,
became increasingly dire.[3]
BARITONE
The notion of strict worldwide control
garnered wide praise and acceptance.
Citizens everywhere, on the whole,
gave up their privacy in compliance
with ever tighter regulations,
all in exchange for safety and stability.
CHOIR
And now leaders of all nations
had increased their credibility
and therefore had more latitude
to rule with imperial attitude.[4]
TENOR
Collateral damage
is a strange demise:
the degree of trouble,
that one can create
by solving a given problem…
Time and again it’s a surprise.

[1] All lyrics for part V are by Michael R. Burch. Cf. Scenario LOCK STEP, a world of tighter top-down government control and more authoritarian leadership, with limited innovation and growing citizen pushback (2010) (https://archive.org/details/pdfy-tNG7MjZUicS-wiJb/mode/2up), page 18: ‘In 2012, the pandemic that the world had been anticipating for years finally hit. (…) This new influenza strain (…) was extremely virulent and deadly. (…) The virus streaked around the world, infecting nearly 20 percent of the global population and killing 8 million in just seven months, the majority of them healthy young adults. The pandemic also had a deadly effect on economies: international mobility of both people and goods screeched to a halt, debilitating industries like tourism and breaking global supply chains. Even locally, normally bustling shops and office buildings sat empty for months, devoid of both employees and customers.
[2] Cf. same source, page 28: ‘What is often surprising about new technologies is collateral damage: the extent of the problem that you can create by solving another problem is always a bit of a surprise.’ – Michael Free, Program for Appropriate Technology in Health (PATH)
[3] Cf. same source, page 18: ‘The pandemic blanketed the planet. (…) The virus spread like wildfire.’
[4] Cf. same source, page 19: ‘The notion of a more controlled world gained wide acceptance and approval. Citizens willingly gave up some of their sovereignty — and their privacy — to more paternalistic states in exchange for greater safety and stability.’



COLLABORATIONS

Michael R. Burch's collaborations with composers and other artists, in alphabetical order by artist name:

• "Lay Down Your Arms" by the Brazilian musician Eduardo Agni.
• A musical interpretation of my translation of Sappho's "Sing, my sacred tortoiseshell lyre" by Ahornberg.
• "Epitaph for a Homeless Child" was published by Armand Amar with his composition "Home."
• Mahryn Rose Barron visual art paired with my translation of Sappho fragment 147.
• Marie Bortolotto visual art paired with my translation of Takaha Shugyo's "Rowboat" poem.
• The lyrics of the song cycle/opera The Children of Gaza by composer Eduard de Boer include "Frail Envelope of Flesh," "Mother's Smile," "Where Does the Butterfly Go?" and six other poems of mine.
• A Look Into Paradise by Eduard de Boer, an opera in one act based on Jura Soyfer’s play Der Lechner-Edi schaut ins Paradis.
• An Ardent Love Affair by Eduard de Boer, a Cantata for tenor, baritone and symphonic wind orchestra inspired by the the Rockefeller Foundation's scenario LOCK STEP, which envisions a world of tighter top-down government control and more authoritarian leadership, with limited innovation and growing citizen pushback.
• The fifth movement of Oratorium Toward a Golden Future, an oratorio by Eduard de Boer for soloists, choir and wind orchestra, on commission from the Dutch Fund for Podium Arts. The project has an October 24, 2024 deadline.
• "I Pray Tonight" by composer Mark Buller.
• "Willy Nilly" and "Indestructible, for Johnny Cash" by Gary Deslaurier of the swamp-blues band Old Dog Daddy & The Dagnabbits.
• Joshua C. DeLozier used my translation of the Issa poem "Admiring Flowers" for his title and to accompany the music.
• Peter Delahaye visual art paired with my poems for his "Dawn" series (not sure where this project stands).
• Nine of my poems, including "Smoke," "Something," "Styx" and "Will There Be Starlight," were translated into Romanian and published by Petru Dimofte in Poezii.
• Native American translations set to music by composer Paula Downes.
• "Cherokee Travelers' Blessing II" by Patricia Falanga.
• Malika Favre used an excerpt from my translation of Baudelaire's "Les Bijoux" in her beautiful and tasteful Kama Sutra A-Z art book.
• Jordi Fornies visual art paired with "Piercing the Shell."
• Poems to be selected by composer Jerry Gerber (currently on hold).
• Murals by Georgeta used my translation of Martial’s elegy for the child Erotion plus my original poems "I Pray Tonight, for the Parkland Survivors," "Epitaph for a Parkland Student" and "For a Parkland Student, with Butterflies."
• David Gosselin videos in which he reads "Besieged," "Daredevil," "Free Fall," "In the Whispering Night," "Insurrection," Li Bai "Spring Breeze" translation, "Love Has a Southern Flavor," "Pan," "R.I.P.,""Resurrecting Passion," "Righteous," Sappho "Fragment 16," Sappho "Hymn to Aphrodite," Sappho "Ode to Anactoria," "Something" (twice, for The Chained Muse and Age of Muses), "To Have Loved" and "Violets."
• "Will There Be Starlight," "The Tapestry of Leaves," "Moon Lake," "I Pray Tonight," "Such Tenderness," "Midnight Lullaby," "Sing for the Cool Night," "We Came Together," "The Singer," "Liebes-Lied," "Moments," "Fascination with Light" and "We Came Together, Holding Hands" by New Zealand composer David Hamilton.
• "For a Ukrainian Child, with Butterflies" by Pauli Hansen.
• My translation of "The Song of Amergin" was to be included in a book of musical compositions by the Irish composer Anne Harper.
• A cello interpretation of "The Wife's Lament" by Jenny Jackson.
• "For a Palestinian Child, with Butterflies" by Estonian composer Helena Loorents (forthcoming).
• "The Blobfish" by Mariah McDonald and Sam Perrott.
• Dodie Messer Meeks created art for "The Desk" and "The Aery Faery Princess" in the lovely children's book A Bouquet of Poems for Children of All Ages.
• "She Was Very Strange, and Beautiful" was set to music by Carmen Garcia Perez.
• Mary Rae created cover art for my books Auschwitz Rose and O, Terrible Angel.
• My translation of the Ber Horvitz poem "Der Himmel" ("The Heavens") was set to music by Ella Roberts.
• Saatchi Art Gallery has artworks for four of my Basho translations and my original "water breaks" haiku.
• William Salmon's mixed media play Summoning the Spirit: Poems of Komachi features my translations of several poems by Ono no Komachi.
• "I Pray Tonight" by Kyle Scheuing.
• "Epitaph for a Child of the Holocaust" was set to music by Sloane Simon.
• Ben W. Smith readings of "Moments" "Infinity" and "Will There Be Starlight" on YouTube.
• Jasper Sole readings of "Enigma," "Moments" and "Something" on YouTube.
• "Earthbound" is to be set to music by Cedomir Stanojevic and the Serbian band About Lorca (forthcoming).
• "Styx" was set to music by the Russian composer Ekaterina Steppe aka Kotik Ptic.
• "Indestructible, for Johnny Cash" was set to music by Mike Strand.
• John Sturt requested permission to use my translation of "Deor's Lament" to help audiences follow the Old English/Anglo-Saxon lyrics which he set to music, and also for his dissertation on his composition.
• "I Have a Yong Suster" was performed by Sigrid Vipa in a YouTube video with a 12-string Celtic harp.
• Voices of Hope did a choir recital of my translation of Fadwa Tuqan's "Enough for Me."
• My translation of "Caedmon's Hymn" was set to music by composer Dawn Walters.
• My translation of Plato's "A Kinder Sea" was set to music by Devan Wardrop-Saxton.
• Brenda Levy Tate created the cover art for my book Violets for Beth.
• Patricia Watwood visual art paired with my translation of Rumi's "The Field."
• "How Long the Night" by composer Seth Wright.
• "Ali's Song" was turned into a YouTube video with music, by Lillian Y. Wong, who has also done videos of  "Something," "Survivors," "At Wilfred Owen's Grave," "Auschwitz Rose" and my translation of Miklos Radnoti's "Postcard 1."
• Zou Meicheng set my translation of Rilke's "Autumn Day" to music.

Composer/Artist Unknown

• "The Last Enchantment" was musically interpreted in a Martins Garden SoundCloud piece.
• "Stonehenge" was musically interpreted in a Martins Garden SoundCloud piece as "Where the Druids Stood."

Bio: Michael R. Burch is an American poet who lives in Nashville, Tennessee with his wife Beth, their son Jeremy, an outrageously spoiled puppy, Buffy, and a talkative parakeet, Kiwi.

Burch’s poems, epigrams, translations, essays, articles, reviews, short stories and letters have appeared more than 11,500 times in publications which include TIME, USA Today, The Hindu, BBC Radio 3, CNN.com, Daily Kos, The Washington Post, Light Quarterly, The Lyric, Measure, Writer's Digest—The Year's Best Writing, The Best of the Eclectic Muse and hundreds of other literary journals, websites and blogs.

Mike Burch is also the founder and editor-in-chief of The HyperTexts, a former columnist for the Nashville City Paper, a former editor of International Poetry and Translations for the literary journal Better Than Starbucks, and a translator of poems about the Holocaust, Hiroshima, the Trail of Tears, Gaza and the Palestinian Nakba.

Burch has two published books, Violets for Beth (White Violet Press, 2012) and O, Terrible Angel (Ancient Cypress Press, 2013). A third book, Auschwitz Rose, is still in the chute but long delayed.

Burch's poetry has been translated into 22 languages and set to music by 34 composers. His poem "First They Came for the Muslims" has been adopted by Amnesty International for its Words That Burn anthology, a free online resource for students and educators.

For an expanded bio, circum vitae and career timeline of the author, please click here: Michael R. Burch Expanded Bio.

Michael R. Burch related pages: Early Poems, Rejection Slips, Epigrams and Quotes, Epitaphs, Romantic Poems, Song Lyrics, Sonnets, Animal Poems, Free Verse, Free Love Poems by Michael R. Burch, Michael R. Burch: Porn Poet? Sorry Mom!

The HyperTexts