Best Hocks Poems

The sun was rising high in the east over the town of Milton creek
It was the eighteenth day of December, the start of Christmas week
All...

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You had that future retro look:  two thousand seventeen,
There was a slow and sultry permanence, a little slouchy lean
As you eased out of the...

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A is for Annie Apple Blossom she buds in the Spring. 
B is Betty Baby Breath she's such a dainty thing.

C is for Miss Candy...

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Competition day had arrived,
His muzzle twitched with anticipation
And in relation my feet tingled in a way like never before.
For the first time, we both doubted...

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Axe the old Don, a trump peter n piper
   of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
ha air brushed pompous ****
   Sunkist...

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Today there are no eyes on me,
a puzzling curiosity!
Whilst riding through the town most days
so many eyes are wont to gaze -

admirers of my fine...

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Standing in the ankle high emerald green grass of my 
great-aunts property barefoot, hearing the creak of wood
on steel.
My daughter and husband are in the...

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Winter
by Michael R. Burch

The rose of love's bright promise
lies torn by her own thorn;
her scent was sweet
but at her feet
the pallid aphids mourn.

The lilac of...

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The Quality of Mercy.
A mouse doesn't ask for mercy from a cat. It can't meow the syllables.
Though its stomach is full, the cat,being unacqainted with...

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August sun,
Leaves smell of heat,
You can hear the holly hocks turn to seed.
The pile of trimmed twigs snap as they dry.

Sister paints the cross pieces
The...

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Miss Garner, Miss Garner. I HATE your Gymkhana,
I loathe every second it's run.
I dread all those horses and obstacle courses,
and everyone else having fun.

Now Mummy...

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(a Four-verse Cinquain)

Parched
red roses
bow their heads
in pain filled surrender,
finished.

Faded
holly hocks
give up hope,
too sad to care,
colorless.

Wilted 
sweet peas
loose their talons,
shrivel, curl in sorrow,
die.

Healthy 
white pine
sucks up...

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When you're a sheep and feel unwell, it's also often true
When dipped into your medicine, you come up feeling blue
Blue from your woolly noggin-lid, down...

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They were on the summit of the hill as if poised in a portrait.
The breeze ruffling the stud's forelock and mane as he arched his...

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Blackeyes and turnip greens on New Year's day.
   That's what we should eat, or so they say.
With pork chops or ham hocks glazed...

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