Michael Pruchnicki Poems

Iago is a man wronged by the Moor
of Venice - 'Good Michael Cassio,
look you to the guard tonight.'
...

That's all he wanted
when he rented a movie
or paid his way
at the local cinema
...

Like a bolt of lightning out of the night
and you're down and out, head over heels
like someone in one of Sinatra's songs
riding high in April shot down in June
...

in the backyards
winds of autumn
ripple plastic bags
...

The more poems I read on this site

some I merely glance at
because something
...

That's what we were taught in Driver Ed
to aim high in steering doesn't come
naturally we were told time and again
most novice drivers behind the wheel
...

Mick never got any mail
he used to complain
and moan that he was
out of the loop
...

The knock on the oak door echoes
(whispers and silence in the old manse)

Muffled sounds from the root cellar
...

Chaucer goes on -

'And was a povere Parsoun of a town
But riche he was of hooly thoght and werk
...

Does it irk one that poets
who think real poetry
consists almost solely
of exclamation points
...