Best Gargle Poems
Not-So-Heroic Couplets
by Donald Trump
care of Michael R. Burch
To outfox the pox:
kill yourself first, with Clorox!
And since death is the goal,
mainline Lysol!
No vaccine?
Just chug Mr. Clean!
Is a cure out of reach?
Fumigate your lungs, with bleach!
To immunize your thorax,
destroy it with Borax!
To immunize your bride,
drown her in Opti-cide!
To end all future gridlocks,
gargle with Vaprox!
Now, quick, down the Drain-o
with old Insane-o NoBrain-o!
Trump’s real goals are obvious
and yet millions of Americans remain oblivious.
—Michael R. Burch
Less Heroic Couplets: Just Desserts
by Michael R. Burch
“The West Antarctic ice sheet
might not need a huge nudge
to budge.”
And if it does budge,
denialist fudge
may force us to trudge
neck-deep in sludge!
NOTE: The first stanza is a quote by paleoclimatologist Jeremy Shakun in Science magazine.
Less Heroic Couplets: Miss Bliss
by Michael R. Burch
Domestic “bliss”?
Best to swing and miss!
Less Heroic Couplets: Then and Now
by Michael R. Burch
BEFORE: Thanks to Brexit, our lives will be plush! ...
AFTER: Crap, we’re going broke! What the hell is the rush?
Less Heroic Couplets: Dear Pleader
by Michael R. Burch
Is our Dear Pleader, as he claims, heroic?
I prefer my presidents a bit more stoic.
Less Heroic Couplets: Less than Impressed
by Michael R. Burch
for T. M., regarding certain dispensers of lukewarm air
Their volume’s impressive, it’s true ...
but somehow it all seems “much ado.”
Less Heroic Couplets: Poetry I
by Michael R. Burch
Poetry is the heart’s caged rhythm,
the soul’s frantic tappings at the panes of mortality.
Less Heroic Couplets: Poetry II
by Michael R. Burch
Poetry is the trapped soul’s frantic tappings
at the panes of mortality.
Less Heroic Couplets: Seesaw
by Michael R. Burch
A poem is the mind teetering between fact and fiction,
momentarily elevated.
Less Heroic Couplets: Passions
by Michael R. Burch
Passions are the heart’s qualms,
the soul’s squalls, the brain’s storms.
Keywords/Tags: Donald Trump, coronavirus, president, poet, poems, poetry, heroic couplets, couplet, humor, humorous, Clorox, Lysol, disinfectants, light verse, parody, satire, America, USA, giggle, political, natural disasters
Written: November 17, 2025
****************
The night used to gargle with garrulous joy—
canorous crickets, a capacious choir
beneath the diaphanous veil of dusk.
Now, only the hissing of wires,
the gaseous hum of machines
careen through the cloudscape.
I prowl the porch at the moon’s behest,
a flaneur of vanished felicity,
searching for the fetching fipple-song
that once gamboled through the grass.
But the calyx is closed.
The petiole wilted.
The elixir of sound—evanesced.
Where once the heron slept
and the wisteria wore its tiara of dew,
now lies a threadbare hush,
a dismal hex of silence.
The garden, once gaudy with chirps,
It is a byzantine grave of elision.
Did we disassemble for too long?
Rake too deep?
Abase the earth with hubris
And flapdoodle dreams of dominion?
Did our egregious hunger
for luster and control
writhe the world into quiet?
Above...
rain and thunder
starts to upset the stomach of a now souring sky
it prepares itself to release a few tears
upon those seeking truth for their lies
in the distance
a white dove cries.
Thunder strikes up a conversation
clapping rudely, during the rains flawless audition
i stand amid not to be judged
but to be cleansed
by my own remission.
to fear, means knowing how to love
in the distance it cries
the white dove.
Those who seek out these healing waters
peace, they shall find
but the lost refuse to drink
and prefer to gargle from the man-made pool
of illusion and lies.
sadly, they never learn to fear
in the distance the white dove cries.
Unquotable quotes – XIV
Don’t trouble trouble until trouble gobbles you ; don’t
rubble rouble until rouble rubbles you.
Don’t marry a woman out of pity ; she’ll make you
regret her lack of fidelity for a ditty.
Don’t lose your temper with any old party member ;
they are all in league licking the leader’s member.
Don’t meddle with paddles if you have never rowed on
water ; it’s not the self-same action you practice with
your partner.
Don’t run to get insurance coverage when you’re
hanging from a ledge ; better wait for the dredger to
empty the valley of sludge.
Don’t go to the cinema to rub or warm thighs and legs ;
what you’re watching is not what you see.
Don’t climb mountains only to be rescued in the public
eye ; there are other more subtle ways like making
naked love to appear on TV.
Don’t crack jokes to make others croak ; crack their
skulls open with a rebuke.
Don’t eat with your fingers noodles soup ; drink the
soup first, then slurp the noodles through fingers.
Don’t tease the neighbour’s daughter for lack of
laughter ; for all you know she may be Bob Hope’s
screen writer.
Don’t turn tables in a fight if you haven’t got the might,
unless you’re John Wayne in a Western with a
broken hind stern.
Don’t squirm in bed dreaming of Clark Gable ; his teeth
kept great actresses crying out for a gargle.
Don’t swim against the current pretending to be Tarzan,
unless you have a Jane willing to put up with any
bane.
Don’t cry for help with a mere yelp.
© T. Wignesxan – Paris, 2016
I walked along the street one day to see what I could find,
I looked for something interesting to stimulate my mind.
When suddenly appeared before me right out from the sky,
a funny-looking alien with three arms and one eye.
He said to me "How do you do?" and tried to shake my hand,
I jumped so far into the air I thought I'd never land.
But when I did I held my breath and reached out with my arm,
knowing that a handshake would never bring me harm.
He shook my hand with suction cups and felt a little cold,
I thought of how my friends would not believe I was so bold.
After we were introduced he took me to his ship,
and asked me if I'd like to take with him a little trip.
I nervously agreed to go and worried about my mother,
then thought again about getting even with my little brother.
He too had said he'd met a man from way out in the stars,
who took him to a place where eight-year-olds can drive in cars.
So off we went up to the sky to places never seen,
the alien was quite a guide (I'm glad he wasn't mean!).
He showed me all the planets, from number one to nine,
and showed me one we haven't found and said it could be mine.
He took me to the dark side of the rock we call the moon,
(It’s cold and dark and scary; I said, "We couldn't leave too soon!")
Next, we circled 'round the sun which only took a minute,
we got so close at one point that I thought we'd land right in it!
The sun was hot the moon was cold and Earth looked really cool,
but worried I became because I should have been in school.
I told my friend the Alien "we should be getting back."
he said to me in some strange tone "Aarf gargle giggle gack!"
I guess he knew just what I meant for off to Earth we shot,
he landed in the schoolyard; (I'll show you all the spot.)
Then once again he shook my hand and simply said "goodbye",
then jumped inside his spaceship, and flew up to the sky.
This trip I took I won't forget and hope someday I'll see,
my friend the Big Green Alien who was so kind to me.
Gargle, glop, burble and glug,
The sauce in the bottle was glued.
It oozed so slow, not wanting to leave,
To cover all of my food.
A thump and a thud with a thwack on its base
Didn’t convince it to ooze any faster.
I guess it really didn’t want to cover the peas,
The chips, the mash or the pasta.
Then an idea popped into my head
To persuade it to flow like a stream.
I could gently warm it, with a little hot water,
Make it foam and simmer and steam.
Yes, it splashed, it flowed, I had broken its hold,
It would satisfy with a flavored up quench.
Then with one last wallop, the sauce flew from the bottle,
Far and wide, splashing all over the bench.
Gargle with jelly
Said my little nephew lenny
While making car noises
Watching the Tele
Wanted to try it but he wouldn't let me
So I got a big stick and poked his fat belly
When Dentist Calls
Clear white tiny whirring brook spirals porcelain down
Monitored through forest of sharp hard objects
In a glare of concentrated artificial brightness
Stark forms, silver entities, probe my thoughts
Through my tooth roots to get to the truth
There are still more things to come
Dentist and assistant fill my mouth with wisdom and cotton
Where my Marlon Brando Godfather impression takes place
Along with x-rays of a few bad teeth acting up or acting out a scene
My mouth becomes that void, that black hole
With which a need to fill it
With everything in the cosmos, becomes apparent
Apparatuses, appendages, products from unknown Asian markets
Go in and disappear
Dentist looks satisfied with his new creation
The interrogation begins
I blink my approval as the needles go in.
My tongue is the first to stray into slurs as doctor quips,
“And gargle please and spit!” “That’s it!” “Open big!” “Tell me everything!”
I remembered a story as a boy
As my mouth and face melt away
And the whirring spirals porcelain down to dentists call
Maelstrom, O thou devil
Slither past last March then unto April
Into the eves and ides of May
Thou cannot hide, but thou wilt try
To disguise thy age old blackness
Forsake what once were brighter skies
Stranglehold; sane extraction
And the spills of night
A new tone deafness
Burning oil; sentiment molasses
Bringing storms that cloud minds human and fragile
Spheres of moonlit halos
Become, no more than serpent spies
Peeking through faultlines of life
Dancing about to the madness limbo
One lost soul...
Shipwrecks against a sea
And there too does the twist of tango
Eyes of the deep; tentacles, touching me
Elsewhere, the raven flies repetition
Into glass windows
Blood stains upon a faceless mask
Drowns out the cries and the conscience
Of feathers blacker that lie strewn
Are the questions I have asked
And the answers I cannot have
Let slip feigned breath of man beneath
A gargle from the cold tunnel brine
What's left surrenders alter to its evil
And nothing is, to evermore survive
And the eves and ides of May
Are Saran gas upon a mass of land
Men of desparation hunger
Eating flesh of man much meeker
And thou wilst not again
Glimpse thy rival sun
Nor when it comes, goes
Or finality, when it finds its done
Inspired by the madness of Poe
That which is locked within us all
I thought to write a poem on a gristmill.
First I googled it, having never really heard that term before.
The “grist” part had conjured up for me
images of grisly scenes like in a horror movie
in which all that remained of dead bodies
was the ghastly gristle of victims killed most gruesomely,
the parts of them ground up inside a mill!
But no, a gristmill is nothing so sinister as that!
“Grist” is just another word for grain (the grain for grinding into flour).
A gristmill, therefore, is the name for the machine or for the building
where the gristing is performed!
Strange that I’d only heard it in my region called a mill.
If the word “mill” denotes the place for the grinding,
isn’t it redunant to add a word
which also is as repugnant as the word “grist” seems to be?
Or maybe it’s only I that find the word so ugly -
ugly like the words gargle, gagging, maggots or mucus.
Funny to think that since my ancestors likely worked in gristmills,
my maiden name might have been “Gristmiller” and not Miller.
I thought to write a poem on a gristmill, but ended up with this!
June 2, 2018 for The Gristmill Poetry Contest of Craig Cornish
i love the early morning rasp of his voice
the birthmarks and burn scars
midsummer skin
i love the sticky rash of lust
the way a heart ticks until it implodes
the sugar soaked kisses
i do not love the way he smacks my face
the way he pushes too hard
the ways he does not love me kindly
i do not love my swollen cheeks
my bruised hips
my blood
i do not love my blood
i love the touch of innocence in the morning
before i have upset him
when we bask in apologies and ignorance of all our yesterday's
when the whispers are not wasps nests and he grins like greek god
when everything is beautiful except i say stop and he doesn't listen.
everything is beautiful except blood vessels clawing at the surface.
everything is beautiful except trying to scream when you've forgotten how to breathe
"please don't" puts him at ease
"don't touch me" doesn't mean anything
"i love you" tosses the dice
i lick arsenic off collarbone
slice the tongue, gargle blood
say goodnight like it's the last
could be the last
he cracks my bones between boulders
between fists
there is no difference
between matchboxes and kisses
seduction and resistance
him and his father
i feel like the guy that plays the flute
calls the snakes.
he slithers around my body
like intimidation
like he's sizing up the prey
like all those secrets in the wasps nest have been beaten out
swarming
buzzing around my head
like he makes me call him "honey" because he knows i'm drowning in it
and the one stinger i have would change nothing
who strikes first dies first
and i'm feeling courageous
feeling like a death wish
he paints me in blacks and blues.
violent hues.
the canvas colored in control is quite the masterpiece
and she's tired of being sculpted
tired of being the victim at his hands
cold and cracked.
i do not love the aching of nostalgia
the dry empty palms
the fear of hearing his footsteps in the middle of the night
but i love the fresh faced stranger in the mirror
the skin that does not rip itself off
the comfort in silence
in safety
i love sunsets that look like honey and breathing in
knowing i'm not drowning anymore
saying "you will never be a real man"
and knowing
knowing
i have stung him
Sex Advice For Men
Wear double rubbers 24 hours a day
Don’t have sex in boxer shorts
If your woman is pretty, do it in the light
If she is ugly, do it in the dark
If she is so so, dim the lights and pray that it’s ok
Bazookas are too tight for a vagina
Dynamite is dangerous
Never open up an umbrella inside of her
It is bad luck
Erotica has a time and place
We all know that salty but not unpleasant taste
So remember to brush your teeth and gargle
And say grace before and after every meal
Use butter in bed but never margarine
Peanut butter and whipped cream are allowed
Turpentine is prohibited
Never ride your wife like she’s a horse
Unless you saddle her first of course, to avoid divorce
The best advice to give in these holey matters is
Check for all the right body parts
If there’s too much apparatus down under
In the lower extremities
She’s a he
Never have sex with animals with or without your zoo shots
Sex with one woman at a time is advised
You don’t always have to wear a tie
Unless you intend to marry
When you take her on a date you have to wait
When she turns red, push the green button, (cash)
If that doesn't work, use the jumper cables or cable TV
Take her dancing, spin her around
It’s like rotating the tires on your car
Women with athletic skills and acrobatics are the best
Stay away from girls without a pulse
It’s the same as having sex alone or something worse
Hanging out new to the scene
So often wonder what it means
As I sit in front of the worlds screen
Started in on ...Googling
I typed in a single word
Pressed enter for the Google search
Took me down the path absurd
Where all the lines were blurred
From there I ventured off the path
Wish I'd known there's no turning back
Marveled at the knowledge that I lack
Like how to whittle your own baseball bat
Just in case you're wondering
Midgets don't melt in the rain
Who doesn't think that that's insane
As I dive deeper into Googling
The art of bathing a Hindu rat
Skinning a two headed Siamese cat
The taking of the perfect nap
Standing up while keeping your lap intact
How to delicately pierce a Rhino's ear
Dressing up then down a deer
50 different ways a man can cheer
While toasting his favorite Micro beer
Abstract art using cotton balls
How to paint between the lines on a paisley walls
Teaching Yankees how the South says ya'll
Lost episodes of the show called Lost
Food served up on the worlds menus
Even specialties from Timbuktu
Why the sea is green and the sky is blue
As my googling madness continues
More art work this time with the jam of toes
How to pick your friends but never your friends nose
Cleaning of the house without a stitch of clothes
The whole time being careful with the vacuum hose
80's Hairbands I used to like
That now know what bald feels like
Making a homemade Hindenburg kite
One that lands this time
How to handle midlife like a man
Taking a survey of what you could have been
Raising Spider Monkey's in the comfort of your den
As I keep on Googling
I now find myself Googling out in front
As I'm Googling behind
Googling up as I'm Googling down
Google left and Google right
I've learned how to gargle Google
That's a well known Google fact
And if you don't believe me
You can to Google that
MH
At morning it starts with a day,
When everyone says yeah!
The milkman comes at the door and knocks,
And then the maid shocks.
I drink milk but before that I brush
Then I got a call of sparsh
I tod I am eating an apple
Then I will gargle.
Then I went to school
But when it's Sunday I swim in the pool.
After the school is over
I got a call for sleep-over.
I slept at night
And the next I flew a kite
Then I went to at treck
After watching the movie shreck.
I climbed the mountain with the help of a rope
I should not fall that I hoped.
It's the end of the day
When everyone are tired to say.
'...the burnt out end of smoky days' - T.S. Eliot
l
The evening rumbles in
and grumbles, tea is served, the kettle
whistles, bread
is buttered, weary workers settle,
nibble, drink their tea and chatter,
as the platter's
passed around and cakes are proffered
in the cozy parlour, lamp-lit,
rum is offered,
daily bread, and thankful for it.
Curtains closed against the weather,
children say their prayers together,
snug and safe now, sister, brother.
ll
The morning sun prods sleepyheads
to service and to play,
the colliery beckons
and the women make the beds.
The cobbled backstreets glisten
from the rain the night before.
The siren calls
and all the miners listen,
they heed its strident roar
and step into their coveralls.
lll
You take fresh linens from the chest,
it's time to straighten up the nest,
then gargle, and repair your face
to meet the challenges and woes,
you hold your children to your breast
and wonder how by heaven's grace
you'll pay the rent, afford the food,
as praying to the Lord you stand and shiver,
arms and legs are shaking, all a'quiver,
a dreadful vision haunts your eyes,
the poor house, shameful to conceive,
you lie upon the bed and weep,
how will you cope, how will you sleep?
no items left to compromise,
a constant struggle to believe.
lV
He wrestles with his conscience, tried
and troubled, thoughts of fraud and theft
beset him constantly, he's torn,
his sickened heart is worn, bereft.
He looks into the eyes of strangers,
each consumed with his own fears,
distraught, and never satisfied,
into a world of want stillborn,
condemned to worry all these years.
We suffer with these souls who struggle
through a life of toil and grief,
tread-milled with no hope of cheer
or expectation of relief.