Best Pockmarked Poems

Old Zack Adams sits a slouch’n so sloppy drunk on a bar-room stool,
Wear’n his cheap-threaded cowboy suit and a stained satin shirt.
All the while a...

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The horizon cuts straight, long, hard
silently declining less than a degree

like toys across a cartoon’s one frame stillness
a small yacht rocks like a child’s boat
a...

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How to describe the color of love?  Might you frown in surprise if I spoke of brown?  Dull, pockmarked, ocherous brown. 
A tarmac...

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THE FIRST TIME I SAW VERA…

I saw: A scrawny, wrinkled, little thing with sallow, wrinkled skin, a head of fine white hair that looked like...

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Chucko Is Dead

It was on Columbus Day, 1962
When Chucko the Birthday Clown
Sang in tones most glorious and free.
“I’m Chucko, I’m Chucko
I’m Chucko the Birthday Clown!”
I...

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“Cambodia is
Cambodia but not really
Cambodia.”
That’s what some say
As the years roll on
Forty years or so since Pol Pot and his pals posted
‘Year 0”, 
Sent the...

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Defy the dreadnaught darkness
that repels Gods' given light.
Beware the banshee blackness
dour damnation shrieks delight.
Leather wings and padded paws
phantom forms of ferine fright,
searing eyes and hunters'...

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Midway
Dauntless bomber
pockmarked sky ... fire rains up
craft spirals down. Mate trapped ... eject
alone

2/7/2016

Contest--The One Who Survived 

Sara Kendrick...

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coping just for a purpose
rusting revealing the truth
a new coat of paint never helps
however i become emotionally addicted
i remember when smiles on four walls was...

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The horizon bleeds ruby-red rubicund blood, 
above which a sanguine moon ascends with regal splendor.
Her pockmarked face aglow,
She slowly rises like a Chinese lantern.

Dusk descends...

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.....   .........




There he hanged in suspended agony with screams pelting
recluse eyes terrified in the glow of afternoon melting…
pockmarked face, ears filled with stain,...

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They were young then, now they would be old men looking across an empty beach, the sun at their back; for many this would be...

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WD-40 resistant, cranky
     mental gears no longer appraised,
honored, nor prized
as a precision crafted tool
never adequately utilized,

     when...

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The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Twenty-Eight

Other media meanwhile busy with who’s sleeping with whom
Relying on New-Sweep and Thyme to make loud front-page zoom
Mainly...

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Sonnet LXXXI-LXXXIX

Day, and Night
by Michael R. Burch

The moon exposes pockmarked scars of craters;
her visage, veiled by willows, palely looms.
And we who rise each day to...

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