Michael Gale Poems

The echoe of yon voice-Oh so trembling...
That voice-Doth cause great pain of grace.

The grace of disgraced findings...
...

The ghost waverly hovered...
As if his famous, young lover, above her.

His kiss upon her cheek...
...

Keys that either stick or don't even comprehend the friggin' punch of the old finger...

People who are way too loud while on their cell phone...
...

The cobwebs keep on growing, and infesting mine pearch...My troubled life seems to have doubled and left me in the lurch.

Do I say what now, do I belong in a church? ...Yes how?
...

Mundane-Midnight Murders Of The Rue Morgue-isborg city blues...Mayhaps me skin toned and skid marked Underoos.

What do we lose? ...Bandanna Republican Central.
Where life greets us with a fry pan, that is smacked straight to my face.
...

Th' pains brought abreast...
Deep down in my chest.

Deep and far they reach...
...

Beyond your beckoning kiss...
I yearn for you, you i miss.

Burning passions ignite my nights...
...

There was a man who had a cane...
Abel, did he raise.

This man was ornery...
...

Van Gogh at ease-el, paint brush in hand,
preparing to stroke his way...
Lost in thought-Nothing to say.
...

The other day I tossed a fishing line
with a hook full of cheese down the
heating vent...
I had hoped to get a line's jiggle.
...