Gills Poems - Poems about Gills

Brainstorming until figuratively blue in the gills..., and finally gung-ho with a poem title important to yours truly not disappointing his Facebook fan base, which electronic affirmation, and confirmation, breeds gratification analogous to being the proud papa begetting offspring progeny growing up at breakneck speed spurring me to rub my eyes as if experiencing hallucination, and thanks be to thee unknown readers, whose familiar and recognizable namesakes fuel...

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Apache Prince and The Wisdom Of the wise. ______________________________________________________________ Da Capo Accent ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Prompt Bastarding out of Context ________________________ he saw the Sale of the theater and wondered if her meager value allow her to...

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Broken-hearted are the tree limbs, General Flooding surveys the wreckage blames a subversive sky. Gamely, the peg-legged scarecrow salutes the wavy navy while they row on by in their bathtub parade. It's a fine day under water, cats are stewing poems in a bobbing blue barrel; words drip from their whiskers. Ducks flop their slippery wings as oily drums grease their oily bones. Rowdy are the gulls that pipe the...

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Options Underwater: The Song of the First Amphibian by Michael R. Burch “Evolution’s a Fishy Business!” 1. Breathing underwater through antiquated gills, I’m running out of options. I need to find fresh Air, to seek some higher Purpose. No porpoise, I despair to swim among anemones’ pink frills. 2. My fins will make fine flippers, if only I can walk, a little out of kilter,...

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What I told Bill My voice unchanging and shrill Was about life in water necessitating gills And the ones on fire, grills The left spaces for man to fill… And it should be mainly about his will But not less intensely his zeal The same I had disclosed to Jill But it didn’t him at all thrill: On some angered bottle spending a dollar...

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I. Gills The tide of hatred never ebbs; The isle surrounded sinks and drowns; While we, the natives, scale the trees As Gills emerge upon our faces, Gaping—like fresh, opened wounds. II. Palms The floor of faith shall never shift; The sea above shall soon be calmed; From islands covered, yet undrowned, Long trees vault upward to the surface, Cradling us on outstretched Palms....

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Silent steps I take Across the ocean floor Cool abyssal plain Bluescape peace Gazing up At the sunlit surface A false freedom Beckons… The air above Polluted with urgency Foul with anger Not so sweet anymore Enveloped in briny womb No longer ashamed Submergence forever Lungs back to gills...

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