Long Pockmarked Poems

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 grind a living,
dream each scented night of such perfumes
as drew...

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Spirit and sponsor sane sexagenarian scribe (and his spouse) to a Utopian country

He seeks (in tandem with the missus) 
legal asylum in Canada...
New Brunswick, Newfoundland, 
Nova Scotia, et cetera,
or any other socially 
progressive European country,
and...

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After the doomsday clock struck midnight...

a blizzard of blinding demoniacal
highly radioactive fueled banshees
(analogous to a bajillion barenaked ladies
raging against the machine)
barreled across the brutalized landscape
affixing fiendish scorched earth signature
whereby survivors felt like foreigners,
or strangers in...

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Sane sexagenarian scribe seeks asylum in Canada...

should Trump swindle electorate by hook or crook,
(1003 days, 9 hours, and
32 minutes until 2024 election),
yours truly steels, girds, braces... himself,
and plots serious outlook
pondering exiting United States
(stage door left)
while...

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Bring on the rejection slips...

and/or try distilling my spirits
at losing gamble
if curious (by George) proceed
reading reasonable rhyme,
I guarantee the following words ramble.

Though flush with good humor
pun one mock two yields negligible
true cash equivalent value won
dirt...

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Arcola circa late 1960's early 1970's...
easy to conjure this idyllic June 8th, 2020

Envision bucolic Currier
and Ives rendered landscape,
or canvas painted
courtesy gifted late Thomas Kinkade
(or substitute favorite creative soul)
how aforementioned illustrious artists drape
mesmerized amateur and/or

art appreciation...

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Let me hear that applause though I've done little to warrant it
Time is a poor curative for what's fundamentally broken
Brain's full pal, sorry, you've gotta go home
Even though I'm the one who paid for you...

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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 a dandelion gone to seed and a pair of faded...

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Collisions between yours truly and the missus

Space at a premium
in our apartment
lettered and numbered b44
at Highland Manor,
cuz the spouse
heavily trends toward disorderliness.

She readily admits her predilection
to disavow being a neatnik,
yet owns the capacity
getting down to...

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Bring on the rejection slips and/or lost wager

Though flush with good humor
pun one mock two yields negligible
true cash equivalent value won
dirt poor offspring privileged as prodigal son
pockets bursting with legal tender,
where just yesterday I had...

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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 peek’n and a leer’n at women like an old poor...

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Eldest daughter – I Praise

Twenty two years ago
     December twenty second,
two thousand eighteen
"star student" born
this papa (and most
     likely thee birth mother)
     initially...

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Elusive pursuit endeavoring to craft a great poem

I (analogous to a rolling stone)
confess, no deliberate intent, yet often wonder
what spurs me to nudge, goad, coax, et cetera
semblance of reasonable poetic rhyme
despite modesty regarding
ably linkedin words...

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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 their last day to grow old; dead in the water;...

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There’s a throng of dark matter storms clustering at the base of my spine. 
C20H25N30 is encoded in the cord I decided to plug myself into when I 
was 15. Jami told me that I...

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I confess, no deliberate intent, yet often wonder
what spurs me to nudge, goad, coax, et cetera
despite modesty regarding
ably linkedin words for others to ponder
more often than not experiencing nonresponder.

Without lofty literary ambitions,
more so stream of...

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Laying in my cozy bed
And drifting off to dreams,
A sudden panic fills my head:
What if this isn't as it seems?

What if while I'm tucked in,
Slipping into sleep,
Giant monsters and their kin
Through the darkness creep?

I draw...

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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 eyes stared blankly
     taking up space...

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During the day the sun owns the sky
Like a piece of solar citrus leaking
Radiant bliss
That meets my skin with a warm kiss from on high
Seated alone in a turquoise throne
It greets me as I step...

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On a farm in a community of drudgery and toil lived a man alone
He had lost so much in his life and had so little to show
For the multitude of years, sweat and love that...

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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 was  comfortably ensconced on the couch.
A feigning 10 year...

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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 whole thing to the wash,
 And it came out 
Red.

So...

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UNSUPPORTED CODE 

I have stood atop the Ardeche cliffs,            
and surveyed the river far below,
as she carves a pockmarked limestone rift;
a distant view, an...

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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 of grain, stained the color of earth, that never saw...

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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 of those who leapfrog into top power palaces
On whether de...

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