Best Tentacled Poems

Refrain
You shimmering waves on the ocean blue
Dance not again, he cannot dance with you
You weeping forests where the winds wail too
Let your bright tears fall in the pool of dew
The world of pop will never be the same again
The king is dead, and life is...

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Aged Osage;
twisting, turning, 
tentacled specter of the soil; 
centuries of thrills, you have seen.

Gnarly old fingers, 
still reach for brother sun’s embrace 
and you share your elation freely.

Stories told in limb and bough, 
are road maps through time; 
I see that history, 
can hide nothing...

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FROM SUNSET TO SUNRISE

Her clinging mermaid-figure, auburn hair - french braid-chaste.
Pearl’s arms circumnavigate his nautical-neck. Strong arms gird her waist.
His hands, like the current, draw her in. She inhales with fingers laced.
Like the sublime shoreline, their outlines traced.
Water and sand swirl around their feet, hearkening...

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Anteater's with their incredible 2 foot tongue
Bison their hides, one time under the gun
Cheetah's my, can they run
Dolphins bringing so much fun.

Elephants, Indian and African by the size of their ears
Fin Whales hunted, we share their fears
Giraffes so elegant long necked and tall
Hummingbirds hover, and...

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To a Daughter More Precious than Gems
by Otomo no Sakanoue no Iratsume
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Heaven's cold dew has fallen—
and thus another season arrives.
Oh, my child living so far away,
do you pine for me as I do for you?

I have trusted my jewel to...

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In hushed whispers, Mariners told stories,
           Of a octopus like cephalopod creature;
With a tentacled beak and jet thrust power,
                ...

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Epitaph for a Palestinian Child
by Michael R. Burch

I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.



Autumn Conundrum
by Michael R. Burch

It's not that every leaf must finally fall,
it's just that we can never catch them all.



Laughter’s Cry
by...

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Poems about Fathers and Grandfathers I

I translated the first six Native American poems for my father when he chose to enter hospice and end his life by not taking dialysis …


Cherokee Travelers' Blessing I
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I will extract the thorns from your...

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Sunset
by Michael R. Burch
								
This poem is dedicated to my grandfather, George Edwin Hurt, who died April 4, 1998.

Between the prophecies of morning
and twilight’s revelations of wonder,
the sky is ripped asunder.

The moon lurks in the clouds,
waiting, as if to plunder
the dusk of its lilac iridescence,

and in...

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We four men raise our hands with blood lacerated to be written upon a book named doom. Whose words bring that which was grasped and phased into our minds by ghoulish men with scales in their hearts as they lead to the door.  our...

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When Love And Dark Unite, A Shiny Tangled Web Catches Prey

There were hidden tentacles of hate in her heart
That her coils had not consumed me, I gave thanks
My soul nearly erupted, my mind suddenly went blank
Her touch was exciting, but frightening from the start.

She would...

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Sister Mary Catholic never tells a lie
Trust her in her order to be pure
Every word spoken under the habit screams
Penance requires suffering
Nuns are likely to be abducted
Taken aboard an alien ship for treatment 
Bug eyed tentacled creatures travel through space
Looking for old ladies in long...

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George Fulwider
1837-1918

My beating-heart age,
Reached the half century mark,
When I and my “better second,”
Found hopeful roots,
And an oleander trellis,
On burgeoning Philadelphia street, 
Here in this Quaker colony, 
Of a thousand trees.
Our small wooded house was, 
Most unfortunately, 
Within earshot of the stately Union High School, 
And...

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Tiny Argonaut
Nurturing her eggs
In the paper thin
Shell
Formed by womb-fluids…

You carry your children
Bear the father of them
To worlds unknown to my kind…

Tentacled cephalopod
Ancient octane ancestor
You remain a mystery to me…

I am so glad
You grace my sea....

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Harpoon Loouey - Pseudonym Pen Bukowski

although just a pint size Notre Dame 
hunched quarter back 
     with rock solid state frame
Pen (short for pennilessness), 

     a generic cents less game
some dime a dozen 
   ...

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