Long Stiff Poems

For ten months now I’ve brooded over coming second place
in the pickle section deeming, it no less than a disgrace.
It was written plain and simple, so there can be no excuse,
that the pickles in this...

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Doggerel I or Nonsense Verse

A$$tronomical
by Michael R. Burch

Einstein, the frizzy-haired,
proved E equals MC squared.
Thus, all mass decreases
as activity ceases?
Not my mass, my a$$ declared!



Bible Libel
by Michael R. Burch

If God
is good,
half the Bible
is libel.

I came up...

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Limericks
by Michael R. Burch



Clyde Lied!
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a mockingbird, Clyde,
who bragged of his prowess, but lied.
To his new wife he sighed,
"When again, gentle bride?"
"Nevermore!" bright-eyed Raven replied.



The Platypus
by Michael R. Burch

The platypus,...

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Poems about Poems (I)



What the Poet Sees
by Michael R. Burch

What the poet sees,
he sees as a swimmer
~~~underwater~~~
watching the shoreline blur
sees through his breath’s weightless bubbles...
Both worlds grow obscure.



Muse/Goddess
by Michael R. Burch

“What will you conceive in...

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Limericks I - Relatives and Relativity

The Cosmological Constant
by Michael R. Burch

Einstein, the frizzy-haired,
said E equals MC squared.
Thus all mass decreases
as activity ceases?
Not my mass, my a$$ declared!


A$$-tronomical
by Michael R. Burch

Relativity, the theorists’ creed,
says mass increases...

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I used to dream of a dark hall. Dim. Empty with thick cheap navy curtains. 
The breeze. It felt hot and old. It shivered in the curtains that lined the walls on both sides.
The breeze....

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I used to dream of a dark hall. Dim. Empty with thick cheap navy curtains. 
The breeze. It felt hot and old. It shivered in the curtains that lined the walls on both sides.
The breeze....

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The Making of a Poet
by Michael R. Burch

While I don’t consider “Poetry” to be my best poem—I wrote the first version in my teens—it’s a poem that holds special meaning for me; I call it...

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The State of the Art (I)
by Michael R. Burch

Has rhyme lost all its reason
and rhythm, renascence?
Are sonnets out of season
and poems but poor pretense?

Are poets lacking fire,
their words too trite and forced?
What happened to desire?
Has...

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Dear Donald John
and GoodFaith Followers,
CoInvestors,
ProActive Prayers for Rapturous Redemption
from Eternal Hellish
paranoid
Left EgoVoices anger and fear
Right SpiritFeelings ecodarkly terrified
from and of dying death.

Your LeftBrain does not lack
for paranoid Win/Lose conviction
We must live in a dog eat...

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Poems about Things that Break II
 
These are poems about things that break and/or shatter.
 
 
 
Water and Gold
by Michael R. Burch
 
You came to me as rain breaks on the desert
when every flower...

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Limericks VI - Religion

Pell-Mell for Hell Mel
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a Baptist named Mel
who condemned all non-Christians to hell.
When he stood before God
he felt like a clod
to discover His Love couldn’t fail!



Why I...

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So many people and the various sores
Intoxicated in such a way my eyes,
That wanted open to crying their doors.

But Virgil told : “What for you look this guise?
Why now your sight is so carefully brought
Down...

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Patterns of phylogenic history
retell our creative creation story
as bicameral restoration
of Earth's nature-spirit ecology,
both Eastern karma
and Western co-redemptive grace.

Spiritual memory experience
of RNA
and later DNA developments
and traumatic extinctions,
positive great transitions
and double-negative traumas;
are exegetical rhythms
and sacred seasoned pattern...

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Starlight and Moonlight II

These are poems about starlight and moonlight, moons and stars, dreams and visions, illuminations and intimations …




Deliver Us...
by Michael R. Burch 

for my mother, Christine Ena Burch

The night is dark and scary—
under...

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Poems about Poets I


The Wonder Boys
by Michael R. Burch

for Leslie Mellichamp

The stars were always there, too-bright cliches:
scintillant truths the jaded world outgrew
as baffled poets winged keyed kites—amazed,
in dream of shocks that suddenly came true ...

but...

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The summer is over but things are getting hotter
The summer is over and people are getting viler
The sky is overcast and the birds are flying around
It feels like a stranger has just entered the town.

Grey...

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Where were you when the wind starts to blow? Where you when you I created the show, where were you when my hands were stiff, where were you when I got stuck in the ditch?

I...

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Birthday of beloved buxom babe I betrothed

Pardon my hyperbole if in fact such embellishment can be sifted out amidst the pretentious poetry and/or prose NOT aired to appear superior, but more so as passion for...

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WINTER, 1948 [40 Saxton Street]

for W.W

The winter nights that pass now
are so unlike the winter nights
that passed before, that I often
struggle back in those suspended moments
when sleep grapples for a hold,
to once again hear the...

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When I was a FreshPerson in a new higher school,
our English Literature class was delighted
to meet a new to our area Ms. Liska,
who was a beautiful teacher
both outside
and in,
and so we all loved her,
and knew...

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Hold the phone, hold the freakin’ phone. Lisa’s got a boyfriend!
I’ve never seen Lisa with a boyfriend. Lisa draws men like fireworks on a dark night, but I’ve never seen her keep one. I mean,...

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It is so hard to let go of love,
lovingly.

It sharks, 
unpeels more gut more quickly
than reel or reeler ever lost
in all those years of lazy inches
in and out:
casting,
winding in and playing out,
hardly fishing, rarely catching
anything
from...

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"The Reptilian Anthropocene"



The Reptilians
war daily 
enrobed in their
stiff distinction suits
rainbow coloured badges 
pinned to their lapels
they beat their breasts 
and oily palms
profiting from all 
the soft-boiled 
foxes on the run
cerebral cortex bound
thinking they are free-willed
and...

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BEING A POLITICAL PRISONER HAS IT'S DRAWBACKS I GUESS WHILE RECIEVING TERRORIST THREATS TRYING TO JUST MAINTAIN A DAILY REGIMENE RATHER ITS PICKING OF MEDICATIONS FROM THE PHARMACY A SENSE OF DREAD ARISES CAUSE YOU...

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