For longings warmed by tepid suns
(brief lusts that animated clay),
for passions wilted at the bud
and skies grown desolate and gray,
for stars that fell from tinseled heights
and mountains bleak and scarred and lone,
for seas reflecting distant suns
and weeds that thrive where seeds were sown,
for waltzes ending in a hush,
for rhymes that fade as pages close,
for flames’ exhausted, drifting ash,
and petals falling from the rose, …
I raise my cup before I drink,
saluting ghosts of loves long dead,
then silently propose a toast—
to joys set free, and those I fled.

*****

Michael R. Burch writes: “The genesis of “The Toast” was that as a college sophomore I was either in love with a girl, or had a serious crush on her, then blew my chance when it finally materialized. I was like Hamlet and Prufrock in lacking the ability to act decisively.

Also, my timing was terrible. The night she showed a sexual interest in me was the first night I ever got drunk, after celebrating a victory in a pool tournament with too many beers. I remember seeing her psychedelic panties, then nothing else. I must have passed out while making out. She was so pissed off that the next day she was dating a graduate student with a beard and a beer belly. I believe she ended up marrying him.

That sad episode explains my toast “to joys set free, and those I fled.”

I seem to remember submitting “The Toast” to a vanity press, before I realized there were such things as vanity presses. I even seem to remember it winning some sort of award: a commemorative coin or something like that. Not that it really matters. But I do think it’s one of my better early poems.

I wrote the original version of “The Toast” circa age 19 as a college sophomore. But I was never happy with the original opening lines:

For dreams descended into dust,
for love that lingered but a day,
for passion wilted at the bud
and skies grown desolate and grey, …

Many years later better opening lines occurred to me:

For longings warmed by tepid suns
(brief lusts that animated clay),
for passions wilted at the bud
and skies grown desolate and grey, …

So there is something to be said for never giving up on a poem and always being willing to improve it. I believe Valery said no poem is ever truly finished, the poets eventually give up. The trick is not to give up too soon.”

*****

The Toast’ was originally published by Contemporary Rhyme.

Michael R. Burch’s poems have been published by hundreds of literary journals, taught in high schools and colleges, translated into 23 languages, incorporated into three plays and four operas, and set to music, from swamp blues to classical, 86 times by composers.

“Making a toast” by Stimpdawg is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.