Long Sputters Poems

Currents
by Michael R. Burch

How can I write and not be true
to the rhythm that wells within?
How can the ocean not be blue,
not buck with the clapboard slap of tide,
the clockwork shock of wave on rock,
the...

Read More

Fahr an' Ice
by Michael R. Burch

From what I know of death, I'll side with those
who'd like to have a say in how it goes:
just make mine cool, cool rocks (twice drowned in likker),
and real fahr...

Read More

His glowing golden eyes glistened with a comprehension beyond the mortal condition

A well-toned, tall, and tanned man, who most, not all, would call handsome

A brightly bleached stalactite overbite gleaned between the mean features of an...

Read More

Sonnets XXXIII-XLI

The Folly of Wisdom
by Michael R. Burch

She is wise in the way that children are wise,
looking at me with such knowing, grave eyes
I must bend down to her to understand.
But she only smiles, and...

Read More

Dream state yields deep sleep personifications

Upon lying supine - eye shutter lids
into the land of Wynken, Blynken, and Nod,
where the sandman beckons and bids
dead to the webbed wide world,
yours truly immune to wakefulness 
despite being...

Read More

Dragon put out his shingle to be a psycho-analyst. 
        He claims he can cure the blues, in one single visit!
Also says he can stop those bent on...

Read More

Late night summons madmen, 
madams, bold streetwalkers, 
picking pennies from the gutters 
as the merchants close their shutters 
and the homeless crouch in doorways 
in their rags, against the cold. 
Black or white, no compromise,...

Read More

Early Poems XV

Ambition
by Michael R. Burch 

Men speak of their “ambition”
and I smile to hear them say
that within them burns such fire,
such a longing to be great ...

But I laugh at their “Ambition”
as their wistfulness...

Read More

Late night summons madmen, 
madams, bold streetwalkers, 
picking pennies from the gutters 
as the merchants close their shutters 
and the homeless crouch in doorways 
in their rags, against the cold. 
Black or white, no compromise,...

Read More

Late night summons madmen, 
madams, bold streetwalkers,
picking pennies from the gutters
as the merchants close their shutters
and the homeless crouch in doorways
in their rags, against the cold.
Black or white, no compromise,
no colours clothe the empty streets,
as...

Read More

I am the hunter with belt and sword.
I am captivity and desires searched for.
Great my name has become.
My dynasty is vast as a Roman Legion.

I stand for truth and honor.
Many have tried to defeat me.
Many...

Read More

Late night summons madmen, 
madams, bold streetwalkers, 
picking pennies from the gutters 
as the merchants close their shutters 
and the homeless crouch in doorways 
in their rags, against the cold. 
Black or white, no compromise,...

Read More

Late night summons madmen, 
madams, bold streetwalkers, 
picking pennies from the gutters 
as the merchants close their shutters 
and the homeless crouch in doorways 
in their rags, against the cold. 
Black or white, no compromise,...

Read More

Winkin Blinkin And Nod, Sans...
Wonderful World Of Dreamland Furloughed!

Hours elapsed since I did sleep off
and feed my belly from the trough.

What...the...creaking screech re: sound
ding, (an unexpected  pro noun
sub bull mashup attributed 
to partial government...

Read More

While sidestepping impediments,
Achilles heel stricken with paralyzing zap
chronically inducing captain klutz
to bemoan and yap,
i.e. (think) booby trap
strategically laid down by the missus -

necessitating yours truly
to patschke with marauder map
in an to circumvent and handicap
becoming lame...

Read More

An old gal applied to join Mensa
Gee she couldn’t be any denser
She went in the wrong door
On the thirty third floor
And there she enrolled as a fencer

When attending her first fencing class
A man scored a...

Read More

 Continued from Part 1 

The Beggars ’neath the balustrades,
and broken Children, Chambermaids,
are running wild from wraiths, afraid
	of dreams where death redoubles.
They fritter time with tattered threads
(from ragged clothes they’ve left in shreds),
crocheting hoods to...

Read More

In dreams I linger in solitude, 
sipping a cup of contemplation,
brewed from leaves of my expectations.
Writing pages of romantic Sonnets
about plans I have for me and you.
Sometimes I'm fearful of rejection, 
spurned if you should...

Read More

The bar door is ajar only fading voices
echo into the void, from nowhere...and afar!

Here n there, trash drifts
ghosts in flickering neon 

Broken floating bloated 
dead down eons halls
last of white. 

Crimson rockets along 
an empty...

Read More

Black-Eyed Peas (Oklahoma Summer)
David J Walker

The blooms arrive in June and by
July the pea pods start to dangle 
Soon the picking will begin when 
Grandma says so shading her eyes
From the angle of the morning...

Read More

Grieving, I shall rue the day when atop the hill I stand,
alone with my memories, grasses swaying in the breeze.
Tears on my cheeks, he'd once so tenderly caressed.
A groan will escape my lips and I...

Read More

**“Those that respect the law and love sausage should watch neither being made.” – 
American Humorist/Author Mark Twain (real name Samuel Clemens) 



Prestigious lawmaking bodies are comprised of solons*
Some find it hard to refrain from...

Read More

The deception of  “free verse”: Dreams II, Translation of Etiemble’s “L’imposture du vers libre” by T. Wignesan

“Free verse, free not to be verse” – Audiberti

My love is not blue like a lake
my love is...

Read More

Maybe the boy is "crazy", but "crazy" for the sake of art.
...You thought: "I can see, I am etched in the boy's heart,
but he is still 'flying,' he is still striving to take off, he...

Read More

O tiny, dimpled sphere, virginal white,  
Whooshing on your preordain-ed flight:     
What motivates your Lord to curses spew  
When you've done naught but to his swing be true? ...

Read More