Best Wus Poems

A angry sky, as cauld as Loch Lomon'
fair drew me out from cot o' peat, an' bed.
The wolves wus wailin', an' thund'r respond'd
Ah gather'd tam, me tartan, an' dug Red.
To  'orse ah took an' found the 'erd sam 'urt. 
The 'ungry wolves 'ad already...

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.
           I saw her's at the
                 distance

          I tried the...

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Okay, tomorrow Father's dayy & i'm sitting here thankingg about all my father's done for me . . Yeaa, he gave me money from time to time, but it wus nuthang compared to what momma gave (: , she gave up her teenage life just...

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Zila 'the killa' chinchilla as he was known
Sat in his villa on his golden throne
He was a marvel a maverick a real joker
A prancer, a chancer, a lifelong nonsmoker 
Our boy 'the killa'.
Never mediocre, always bodacious 
With girls he was, I say, flirtatious
Feeling alive never...

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Vacuum
by Michael R. Burch

Over hushed quadrants
forever landlocked in snow,
time’s senseless winds blow...

leaving odd relics of lives half-revealed,
if still mostly concealed...
such are the things we are unable to know

that once intrigued us so.

Come then, let us quickly repent
of whatever truths we’d once determined to learn:
for whatever...

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Thistledown wus his name and sometimes he stung, well actually his stem stung. The stinkers gave him a bad name, they did! Handsome wus he. Aye, the ladies loved him. Coming near to his full bushy head of royal purple pomp, thought he smelled good...

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At Tintagel
by Michael R. Burch

That night, 
at Tintagel, 
there was darkness such as man had never seen...
darkness and treachery, 
and the unholy thundering of the sea...

In his arms, 
who is to say how much she knew? 
And if he whispered her name...
"Ygraine"
could she tell above...

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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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By Elton Camp

Howdy, Leroy, how’s you and you’rn?
I ain’t seed you since th' baby was born.

Livin’ way up hear in th’ mountain,
Of th’ days I sorta lose accountin’.

Well, Jim, as fur as I kin tell
We’se doing tolerable well.

Lulu’s marriage has at last been laid.
Wuz getting’...

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State of the Art (IV)

These are my "ars poetica" poems about the art and craft of writing poetry. 



Hearthside
by Michael R. Burch

“When you are old and grey and full of sleep...”  — W.  B.  Yeats

For all that we professed of love, we...

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Poems about Children IV

Salat Days
by Michael R. Burch

Dedicated to the memory of my grandfather, Paul Ray Burch, Sr.

I remember how my grandfather used to pick poke salat ...
though first, usually, he’d stretch back in the front porch swing,
dangling his long thin legs, watching the sweat...

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Salat Days
by Michael R. Burch 

(dedicated to my grandfather, Paul Ray Burch Sr.)

I remember how my grandfather used to pick poke salat ...
though first, usually, he’d stretch back in the front porch swing,
dangling his long thin legs, watching the sweat bees drone,
talking about poke salat—
how...

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When I  be out cuttin mye graiss befo,
Duh Lawd gimmie a sign.
Least ways iffin hit wus not duh Lawd
Maybe sumpthin else, cause
Duh Lawd He don’t want no body
usin His name fur a laiff.
So I be starten ovuh hyar,
wif mye tell.
When I do be out...

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i used to bee the T'keyah Thatt -
Laughed at others whn they were hurt,
cared only about myself,
played entirely too muchh,
thought i wus [above] othrs whn it came to my education,
tried to be bestfriends with the teacher,
only went places with Alexis Rutherford
always put it in my...

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Jock stumbled - pals called him a wus
(No injury was obvious)
But Jock bruised his willy
And now he feels silly
With todger strapped up in a truss 

Thanks to my friend who set me a challenge to get Jock Strap in a poem

07/13/21...

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