The Harvest of Roses

The Harvest of Roses
by Michael R. Burch

 
I have not come for the harvest of roses--
the poets' mad visions,
their railing at rhyme ...
for I have discerned what their writing discloses:
weak words wanting meaning,
beat torsioning time.
 

Nor have I come for the reaping of gossamer--
images weak,
too forced not to fail;
gathered by poets who worship their luster,
they shimmer, impendent,
resplendently pale.
 
Originally published by The Raintown Review