Biography of Michael Buhagiar
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Michael Buhagiar's Works:
Michael Buhagiar Poems
Rider On The Storm (Homage To Jim Morris...
Adios to the lands and great house, Caballero, A kiss for the Lady in White and your friends, For you ride out to meet the wild Toronegro Pounding the plain, and the world on you depends.
Before I Met You
Spring would come with shafts of light To make love to dark earth in the morning dew, But the frost would bite too deep at night And the beds were all bare, before I met you.
Homage To Eric Clapton
A seed once fell onto English terrain Where wars had thicked the soil with much blood; And its roots struck deep into Satan’s brain On the side where feeling and melody bud.
In The Ebor Cemetery
From zero to zero an ice wind sweeps As dark chords close the movement of day, And the sky a mist of moisture weeps On the loved one beached in a wave-lashed bay.
I Honestly Love You
If this vow of affection is simply true Don’t tell me why you had to speak it: A spell was settling and you had to break it, I know, for it would chill and entomb you.
Correspondences (Translation From Charle...
Nature is a temple whose columns are alive And confusions of sounds at times betray. Man through a forest of symbols does strive, And he knows them somehow as he goes on his way.
Sound Of Silence
Each lecture hall was a book of hours, Its pages written by different priests. We plunged to engage the dismal powers And gazed from the decks of dawning towers,
Light My Fire (Homage To Jim Morrison 2)
Let the Shadow inflict collateral damage On Venus who alights from a shell to the shore To light your fire as the chill winds rage And vipers strike from the blossomless floor;
In the long arms of mother let him sleep With her eyes bent above To gaze through locks that steep
(In Fisher Library, University of Sydney) The floors to the top are numbered five
Poets Don'T Drink Coffee
The tickets collected with an hour to spare, We stopped by the Mozart Café in a shell On the water, and took in the drinkers and rare Miasma of fresh-roasted coffee bean smell.
It starts with a seed, whose segments gather A trust protecting the wealth of their ancestry With promise of flowers and a soaring majesty And fruits to ravish you, like any other;
Towers, turrets, high walls all made Of sand gold-gleaming in noonday rays… He would send his son with bucket and spade To build and build under stringent gaze.
The Witch Muse (Homage To Eric Clapton 2...
He glanced at the first bright sliver to glow Which many would harvest and worship alone, And yawned, thinking only of how she would grow To the diva as Woman entrancing the throne.
On the topmost shelf there stands an old man,
Still straight, his jeacket lettered in gold
About a hard frame; and those blotches and frays
Sing gladly of harrowing trials of old.
'The Poems of Blake': a two inch span
Of spine, and on the cover the Ancient of Days.
Not his tale alone he steps down to tell.
For the inside page is inscribed in ink: