Long Shoelaces Poems

Here and Hereafter
by Michael R. Burch

Life’s saving graces are love, pleasure, laughter ...
wisdom, it seems, is for the Hereafter.



Laughter’s Cry
by Michael R. Burch

Because life is a mystery, we laugh
and do not know the half.

Because death...

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Poems about Fathers and Grandfathers IV



Neglect
by Michael R. Burch

What good are your tears?
They will not spare the dying their anguish.
What good is your concern
to a child sick of living, waiting to perish?

What good, the warm...

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Poems about Children V

Pan
by Michael R. Burch

Among the shadows of the groaning elms,
amid the darkening oaks, we fled ourselves

Once there were paths that led to coracles
that clung to piers like loosening barnacles

where we cannot return,...

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Nylon waste is often akin to a brushed out stable, manger, or stall. But brushing the carpet is often a resemblance of a swirling cloud of dust and tobacco shards and tobacco shards are not...

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They sit for hours in the room going around in circles, jaws moving up and down their faces and tongue lashing out around the place. They have a special look on their face with the...

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It was many years ago that I sat there on the floor
With Aunt Allie and my cousins, we knew what was in store.
The clan was gathered there around the Christmas tree
Just eagerly awaiting their Christmas...

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These are the best sports poems by Michael R. Burch, Part V

Just Smile
by Michael R. Burch

We'd like to think some angel smiling down
will watch him as his arm bleeds in the yard, 
ripped off by...

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Ray has a hole, now, taps a long bar in,
And ties the winch to it, and turns it on,
“STAY BACK!” he howls, “THIS CABLE’S ALMOST GONE!”
The bar flies out, the cover slips, the din

The winch-engine...

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When life puts in you in these cages, 
where you meet people of different rages, 
and faces, 
it makes you seem horrible.

I noticed you shirt which reminded me of the clothes my dad buys to...

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The Writers Tail liaT sretirW ehT
by Charles Robert Hice on Wednesday, November 28, 2012 at 12:22pm ·
The Writers Tail
the poor writer can not post a poem anywhere to be recognized himself as a poet unless...

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Well, this morning began “a fine kettle of fish” to my taste
(ambiguity present and somewhat ironic), no waste
of intent here. ‘Walk’ mentioned proforma, ‘glazed doughnut’ from Stan’s (1)
tasked, a possible ‘chaser’ to sweeten the plot....

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No one knows about me here,
Alone with me, myself and I –
I have no urge to cry
No one knows what I feel…
I feel hope and no fear
Making a little effort to belong…
No, I’m not that...

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I have no intuition, I hope you don’t either.
I mark down the strength of these rings

On my weak fingers
to make me stronger.

The glowing blue gem 
Makes me powerful again

And again, I want to die. 
It’s...

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He grasped my fingers and I took a breath,

I counted to five and allowed my palms to sweat...

I stood, Converse clad feet turned inwards towards my opposite knees and thought about the
irony of plaid, I...

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Not in tea leaves, in shoelaces tie existence--their harsh and meshing material
bound, tethered, undone with a gentle pull. 
 
The bunny ears
and clumsy fingers bouncing along the faux-marble
hallways: the future politicians and CEO's and poets
wiping...

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Big Billy and his dog named Sog were walking around the Forest of Fog 
When all of a sudden The Devil appears from behind a tree
The Devil says “OK which one of you is coming...

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we're all living in a city of sin
The most heartless people usually have the prettiest grins
Surrounded by sharks and they didn't expect me to swim
They could smell the blood on me
Had to take risks and...

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Every time I get happy
the Nana-Hex 
comes through.
A dog's canines 
change into chainsaws,
toothpicks turn into knives,
coral reefs diverge into dirty sponges,
a sandcastle into a mausoleum,
a soldier-ant burrows deeper
into my borrowed grave,
reveille trumpets tap 
a tip-toed...

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I remember growing up in foster care waiting for my dad to show up 
I tried to let go of the pain, but the sadness holds up
I bottle it all and then the madness explodes...

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Lost time doesn’t circulate
I was having a hard time finding my light switch in the dark
Colorful, temporary
Grey, permanent
Sore calves and heavy head
Tisses and black shoelaces
I’m 18, and I don’t feel well enough to get up...

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I had a dream of you last night
I forgot which came first 
You or the dream of you 

People may think that I’m crazy
I sit at the same spot every weekend
Waiting for you to show...

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Small shaped puddle holes, Come tumbling over my feet.
Walking...scraping my hand, bleeding sweat.
Sun glowing darkness over brunette hair.

The vain made burning desires, tapping over keyboard notes.
This pain isn't the same, It is gone to cut...

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i am a creation of empty minded sex
and anger that plucks the heads from flowers
i come from broken glass absorbed into the front seat
from a desolated house 
where plates and pillows whisper dirty words
where mirrors...

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I recognize they spot my back I undeniably do

Running keeps you in shape, when you’re stressing run, and my watch signals time to escape

When the handgun is fired you dash off leaving the opposition thinking...

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I first noticed a change in Climate,
When my shoes started to outlast their laces,
Which I thought unusual at the time,
As I had come to think of it as an unwritten law,
Probably one of Murphy's,
That shoelaces...

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