Long Wooly Poems

Sonnets LXI-LXX

Erin
by Michael R. Burch

All that’s left of Ireland is her hair?
bright carrot?and her milkmaid-pallid skin,

her brilliant air of cavalier despair,
her train of children?some conceived in sin,

the others to avoid it. For nowhere
is evidence of...

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FICTIONAL BIO:

The missus asked me
(hitherto known as her bozo)
just mere moments ago
to craft humorous poem to glow
nsync with the shiny nose of Rudolph
keeping syncopated metrical flow
thus methought to crow
about being equally as foolish
streaking naked outside...

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thermometer reads zero, a chilly breeze blows
  apple cores thrown, the blackbirds feed
  my multi-layered partner dons her wooly hat
  impatiently, she waits for me
  securing covid masks amidst my overcoat
...

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I relished being hungry for Thanksgiving pop slop gloppy grub

whereby the missus didst potchke
created whirling dervish hubbub
after enjoying repast, 
(fit for a tarnished king),
yours truly able, eager, and ready
to soak my ego freezing carcass in...

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I relished being hungry for leftover Thanksgiving pop slop gloppy grub

(a poetic partial fiction 
blended, diced, fricaseed, 
marinated, mixed, pureed, sautéed, 
stewed... with fact)

Hmm... on second thought
lemme join anorexic club
until rib cage protrudes taut and...

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Ability to defecate wildly swings (both ways)...
between incontinence and constipation

Irritable bowel syndrome i.e.
the former excretory bout I address
the above (polite way to phrase diarrhea)
and avoid moon efficient cheekiness,
yours truly doth buttress,
a literal warranted pain in...

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Dickens Christmas carol revisited by nicked saint

Frigidaire - from upper atmosphere 
hammering and whipsawing debris 
ferociously with an angry flare,
cuz mother nature - fed up to here
(re: envision me hands indicating 
over top of head)...

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Through April and May not a single Indian has been noticed
along all the serpentine bends of this rambunctious river,
however I feel we are being espied by a jealous warparty
immortal in it's protection of this pristine...

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' The gods' spake to all who had 'wide' ears...
but all they heard was Apollo's muse....'
   

How leavened my soul to search,
   
   wooly and wild to the waxxen...

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A
                                  ...

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Sore testicles
isopropyl never dried
pan to the head
thank the splatter web
for the psychosis of this muse
vopour transmission
liars for friends
come one come all
come again
double fudged sunday
Electric lies
how was i to know the chemistry underneath all the stains
why...

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How leavened my soul to search,
   
   wooly and wild to the waxxen wind,
   
   how swift my wings though my fancy yearns,

   catching sights...

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Splendid she was in her old wooly hat
She sat in the garden and watched the world pass
Beside her asleep was her mangy old cat
The oldest woman in town

Nobody knew just how old she might be
If...

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You may have heard folks speak about giants,
it certain circles that some call ‘plain nuts!’
among cryptozoological types
they’re speculated upon rather much.

And every few months on the internet,
at least if you’re into that type of thing,
you...

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As if a child should understand an  adult’s muddle,
putrid oil slick puddle,
the dreadful pain we foist on wide-eyed offspring.
Robotic elders crush with rigid slabs of Portland censure,
 whatever spark remains in tiny rosebud coloured...

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"I don't call them New Year's Resolutions. I prefer the term: 
Casual Promises to myself that I am under no legal obligation
to fulfill."            ...

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itching legs & yahweh

the young boy had told his mother
he thought he was allergic to ivory soap,
in fact, he’d told her the night before---
but come sunday morning
all the care in the world couldn’t keep him
from...

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I relish being hungry for popslop grub...

(on second thought lemme join anorexic club
until rib cage protruding taut and visible
doubling as drum to drub
synchronized with heart that goes lub dub).

She painstakingly lovingly doth strew
haphazardly she threw
leftovers...

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Acquainted with love again 
I soon recovered from past pain 
I met this goddess in a tight black dress
I peaked Kilimanjaro, at the sight of her, I must confess

We exchanged digits and addresses too
She said...

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I dress the way I do on stage
To transport you to another age
Where wild women of the west
Proved they stood among the best
They rode boot to boot along side the men
Riding broncs to hell &...

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Please, let me imagine that we will come here again 
In the warm springtime rain, or in cold winter chill, 
When the ground glistens clean, and keen in the sun
When we breathe clouds of cotton...

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I established a rapport 
with the Sacred Cow
and it stepped all over my toes
the oil of anointment in my crankcase
I was limping worthy of an asterisk
an army of monks couldn't keep me pure
laughing all the...

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The First Christmas
by Michael R. Burch
 
’Twas in a land so long ago . . .
the lambs lay blanketed in snow
and little children everywhere
sat and watched warm embers glow
and dreamed (of what, we do not...

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A perfect Sunday, as only god can make
The skies the barometer, tend to set the mood
This day clouds…oh, so wooly white
Like sheep grazing… among the blossom blue
Sunshine’s accents must be added too

Dad, magnificent in his...

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Country Road

Rolled carpets of lawn lie, on a shaven bed
A bed that only a month ago, looked barren and dead
While in another paddock, one of pure contentment
Sit dozens of wooly ewes all with their minds...

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