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Best Poems Written by Michael Miers

Below are the all-time best Michael Miers poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Sun On Brick

line against the wall
fat birds too wrung out to drive
later, rooms' sweet ease

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Brave Noor, the Spy

a beauty untold
a faith untold to the weak
faith I've never met

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Blood In Stool

the old brick is dead
tuck the morkin, shoot the dog  
bootless memories

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Cafeteria

Patiently waiting in a line
eyeballed an wary
harsh barking of subterranean cultures
standing weary and inured
to the rotten
fug
the rotten
oxygen

inside the high walls and wire, the weighted stone of
the convicted

existing like convicts

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Stalingrad

the soldier.  the pretty city girl.

in a room of rust and patterned blood
cover
ash all in the riven air
ash of city, ash of sacrifice, ash of
soul

"I came here a soldier.  You have made a monster of me."

he told her, in a voice as
 cancerously black and lost as
  any stygian
       pit

frightened and quiet
she spread supine, naked, shaped, shaded
like gold

mortar shells screaming all around

digging holes

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After Noon

dreadnaughts split the sky
whorl motions of atmospheres
merse the wicked sun

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Gorilla Piano

'I shall will' says the Proclaimed Self
when you know
it most certainly
won't

  'Forever' swear the lovers
before they weary of each other
and pass with
sideways
eye

maybe there will be some
other times
looping mirrors reflecting
themselves
speeding light spread
ever along
the fire's fulgurate throat

stroking a woman's lovely
shudder.  a room in Rome.
like Krishna
riding high
distinctly
satisfied

shadows within the 
shade
the elephants may
parade
But, never,
no never
will they ever
clear the
stage

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Rain Days Figured In

the line straight, turning the globe
dark and then darker colors passing by
the vivid stream, covering the sun from her
indecency

the day a dank, gray stare
through the glass left over from the last
hurricane

maybe I should go outside and
listen awhile

But, I am worried.  I'm goddamn sick
the rain is costing me 
money

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Quick

Sweep, old lady, sweep away
the tin
din
and dust
of the day
breath as the sun sighs and
settles into the
ground
consider the satellites as they
come back
around
gather the children on the
wide fields you have
found
Sleep, old lady, come Monday
and dream

Details | Michael Miers Poem

Birdfood

the seed caste onto the stone, and
in seed it is on it's own
never to stretch root, or
finding the thinnest stress to
break through

to 
pregnant ground and
soda

the seed caste onto the stone

though no shape will it ever go
oblong roll along a stony
song
until it is split sent into the high-
flyed sky

and sent again
to descend
from the
gods