Bespectacled Poems | Examples

Public Clocks

At first his anger was hotter than July
Or, rather, he was plundered by the weight of
Sorrow —heavier than the ice of January;
The kind of stolid ice that thickened Niagara Falls
Like frozen soup.
He was tall and lissome, bespectacled, in
Dark suits, a brown hat, worn-out shoes of fraternity.
A folded umbrella accompanied him like a touring child.
No wristwatch.
He doesn’t wear them.
Asked why, he normally replies, “There are many public clocks”.
Stocks have plunged
Every expert he asked shared the same opinion?
Stocks are like seesaws —
They rise and fall.
Before then he had assumed that “rise-and-fall”
Was only for dictators,
And of course empires.
And every public clock he glanced up at
Had the same opinion on time? it ticks away,
Slowly, but perfectly.
And if you want to do time,
Then hurry over life importunately.

The Man

Aha, says the bespectacled man
That has much to man
Which he had to plan
Ensuring that his plan can smoothly run
This hardworking bespectacled man

At The Ramada Inn

At The Ramada Inn 

teenage boyfriend sits butt close to brown eyes
waitress with bleeding lips serves a silent sirloin
middle aged mother says the meat is too rare
bespectacled father stares at the impaled thing
says the leaking steak isn’t dead enough to eat 
bleeding waitress takes jiggling meat to the flames 
teenage boyfriend tells brown eyes he loves her
loves the windsong perfume she keeps in her purse
loves kissing her strawberry lips in the beige impala
teenage boyfriend daydreams now of holy matrimony 
of living in a two room duplex with two perfect children 
of driving the family into town with scapulars hanging
waitress with bleeding lips serves a screaming sirloin 
teenage boyfriend sits butt close to brown eyes

She Puckered Her Lips

    Never asking for a kiss
       or to even hold hands
    He drove her quite mad
      this bespectacled man  

    Month after month passed
      when wild with desire
    She puckered her lips
      to light the man’s fire 

    But wouldn’t you know it
      she fell on her face
    As he stepped aside
      to avoid her disgrace

    If some women can wait 
      why can’t a man ~
    For true wedded bliss
      has to last a lifespan

A Little Credit Due

What we own ... or what we owe,
    Is more than numbers on a balance sheet.
Yet we're often reduced to a figure,
    That claims existence before we meet.

So we hustle to settle the score,
    Throughout a lifelong FICO maze.
As if we're a rodent chasing cheese,
    Inside a laboratory for untold days.

Within the palace walls of high-finance,
    Sit bespectacled guru's towards our fate.
Crunching numbers next to our dreams,
    While reaching limits, forever late.

This reality forms an economic backbone,
    Allowing for judgement and eternal debt.
While we struggle & reach for something better,
    A gratuitous path might extend some extra credit.

Bradly Spills His Beads

He had a sneaky tongue,
it bent around his molars
like a serpentine noodle.
His Adams apple
was an ever-shifting abacus
that calculated words
as if they were untethered beads.
Mathematics were his
clinical persuasion,
a laudable science
he hammered
into a sterile
impregnable language
for bespectacled cyborgs,
for he (the Bradly),
daily taught snotty tykes
who ponged of sticky,
childish proclivities.
Some teach, some
kill the ozone of eager minds.
We kids and Mr. Bradly
were never meant
for each other,
but he did instruct us
in the oily arts of
disinterest,
indifference,
and inattention.

Off To School

OFF TO SCHOOL

So you're off to boarding school,
It'll be the making of you, my lad,
Muses the bespectacled gentleman,
Sat behind his morning paper, 
The commuter train steaming 
Its trundling way
Past opened curtains 
Of genteel suburbia.

Familiarly hypnotic rhythm 
From the clickety-clacking track
Continues, scarcely heeded 
By the carriage's motley clientele, 
Disturbed from comatose reveries, 
Enduring the drilled strains 
Of unwelcome conversation.

Hostile eyes look up in 
Bristling annoyance
At a shy, enclosed boy, 
Who keeps locked-in silence 
On his first uncertain foray
Into the strange world beyond 
The comfortable boundaries
Of his homely playpen.

Shopping Cart

The Shopping Cart

Upon my veritable throne I survey
subjects of sundry colors,
cans and jars, packets and bags
arrayed in reverent order before me.
I am appointed, by natural virtue
captain of this mighty ship
past denizens of the white-tiled, polished sea
steered through (a)isles by two sturdy hands.
Before me lies, in mangled letters,
a royal sanction, listing treasures from far and wide
my trained eyes decipher the cryptic codes
rendered in smudged ink,
and by my direction, mine alone
we cruise past other ships, on their missions,
seeking loot to plunder off soaring towers
like panels painted in the same color.
When at last, our voyage concludes,
our ship, weary but worthy
languidly does sail over to the fine,
bespectacled statue behind a glowing screen.
Our treasures they measure with 
that beeping baton, when at last,
in the name of the King, we are charged
royal customs, each one of us a tributary.
And off we go, onto terra firma
where I shall become a child again,
and my subjects, most ungraciously packed
into suffocating little plastic bags.

Dated - 29th October 2021

Bunny Hugger

Life lover
Death mugger
Hope giver
Low sugar
Water chugger 

Love lugger 
Tree hugger
Silly bugger
Fun frolicker 
Food fantasiser
Friend finder
Hug holder
Soft shouldered
Money shrugger

Deep diver
Divine dealer
Rift healer
Hate hater
Kindness creator
Destiny developer
Imperfect Father figure
Occasional tent rigger

Peace pursuer
Joy juggler
Plate wobbler 
Poetry writer
Destiny thriver 
Earth empowerer 
Environment ambassador
Eden encourager
Evil eradicator
Snake stamper 
Veganish validator
Animal appreciator
Wonderful wisdom warrior 

Future fantasiser 
Present meditator
Past appreciator
Sporty spectator 
Not so bad geezer
Summertime sneezer
Bespectacled bungler 
Kitchen surface scrubberer 
Sad movie blubberer
Healthcare handler
Magic marveller
Movie meddler
Piano plonker 
Canine craver
Book reveller
River walker
Christ carrier 

Church changer
Cross celebrator 
Deafness dabbler
Community keeper
Poverty challenger
Happiness harbinger 
Justice instigator

Prayer purveyor
Holiness hailer
Jehovah jotter
Jesus jostler  
Bible basher
Beautiful
Believer.

If Only You Knew

Nobody knows everything
Not even a few
I find consolation in this
I hope you do too.

Some people are smart
In dress and retort
But could not compare
With lawyers at court

Others accept
They have limitations
And seldom aspire
To rise above their station.

Then there are those
With their heads in books
Who keep on their toes
With superior looks

Bespectacled people
Are assumed to be clever
They rarely blot their copybook
If ever.

Wild haired professors
Covered in chalk
They put on the pressure
Whenever they talk.

You may think you're clever
If only you knew
There is always someone
More clever than you


22 October, 2020

Magna Veritas

Mightier than fibs and sharp swords, 
Manacled truth will with time prevail
Against high peak and gigantic vale, 
And glossed lips' deodorized words. 

Sharper than lucre's nectared studs
Stabs tested truth's right-driven nail;
Till all wrong-worn tongues wax frail, 
And fain betray old veneered guards. 

Unfettered truth predates olden floods.
Earlier than Noah's Ark and hasty hail
Unbowed stood her long-tenured trail, 
Defanging vibes of fact-twisting nerds. 

Unbent still won truth's candid cards, 
Outlasting every knavish fibbing tale; 
And justice bespectacled favored jail, 
Where oft cool heels of reptiled duds.

Why not tell it to blank wingless birds: 
If stoutest truth's tempest-tossed sail
Long neutered was by wealthier gale, 
Over gold's Monsoon-storming girds? 

~~~Magna est veritas et praevalebit~~~.

Sex 101

Sex 101
by Michael R. Burch

That day the late spring heat
steamed through the windows of a Crayola-yellow schoolbus
crawling its way up the backwards slopes
of Nowheresville, North Carolina...

Where we sat exhausted
from the day’s skulldrudgery
and the unexpected waves of muggy,
summer-like humidity...

Giggly first graders sat two abreast
behind senior high students
sprouting their first sparse beards,
their implausible bosoms, their stranger affections...

The most unlikely coupling—

Lambert, 18, the only college prospect
on the varsity basketball team,
the proverbial talldarkhandsome
swashbuckling cocksman, grinning...

Beside him, Wanda, 13,
bespectacled, in her primproper attire
and pigtails, staring up at him,
fawneyed, disbelieving...

And as the bus filled with the improbable musk of her,
as she twitched impaled on his finger
like a dead frog jarred to life by electrodes,
I knew...

that love is a forlorn enterprise,
that I would never understand it.

Keywords/Tags: first love, sex, sexy, lust, passion, desire, school, student, teen, teenage, learning, bus, foreplay, fingering, odor, musk, romance, romantic, humiliation

Ambien Moments

Zolpidem kept me late, the library had been open for hours.
Young children studiously ran amok 
from one poster plastered aisle to another.

I have this thing about female librarians.
I had hoped to have grown out of such fantasies,
emerging perhaps like some immaculate moth
from the grubby chrysalis of this crumbling body but…

The sight of a full-figured, middle-aged bespectacled lady 
pushes demanding impulses through my bloodstream; 
I retreat to the dark heart of the Napoleonic wars
where history archives many a pervert.

Old men fight wars, the young die for them, but outcomes  
(exactly when the bloodletting must stop), they are played-out
in the deranged minds of those who then publish the books.

Of course, they always knew they would get away with the lies,
probably knew that I would be here hiding
between these dishonest pages, 
with nothing on my Ambien fueled mind, 
but middle-aged female librarians.



~~~~

A Long Bus Ride

The bus is half-full, empty seats are occupied
by the soon to be born, the soon to be dead,
those in transition.

The medium knows he is a guest in a stranger’s dream.
When he thinks about this, he shivers and turns
to the window, lets himself be distracted
by the dusty fields, the wind cranking farms.

A bespectacled matron moans 
as the knit of her life slowly unravels.
Eighty years dead; white mice 
have been born and have passed away in her head.

A travelling salesman yet to be conceived
stares about him, thinking he is in a movie.
People speak a language he does not understand -
there are no subtitles for his state of mind
however, his future occupation has already been seeded
within the mixology of an ancient starlight.

The medium wishes he were more accustomed
to the slow process of astral dissolution
and regeneration.
Passengers cling to the long straps of their minds
as the Greyhound sways. 

Some occupants dream
that they have a real ticket for this life, 
others may have purchased a ticket,
but not a destination;
they fidget in their seats,
and wonder why the trip is taking so long.

Go Bye

Sitting in the night
as bespectacled clouds
murmur by
and pin pricks
of light
pierce the velvet dark
The terms and conditions
of life and death
laid before me
but i
wll
not 
sign
of the times
i counted
seconds to fill the minutes
Tried accomplishment
Let dreams dream themselves
Want to know the truth
I lie within
the folds of leaves
and reach behind the sky
Irony show your face
take me in your arms
as we watch the
day go by

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