Michael Pruchnicki Poems

Of course you knew that your words
flowing freely through cyberspace
would be misunderstood
...

after Rehan Hyder's 'Brittle Fidelity'

Brutal boots of dusk
chase delicate sunbeams
...

We lived in a flat on South Halsted Street
third floor front - three kids, Ma and my Pa
a scruffy wire-haired fox terrier named Teddy
...

In a back bedroom upstairs stands an antique armoire-
a four by eight foot clothespress of Spanish dark maple-
ornate cornice and frieze overhanging double doors,
brass hinges and doorknobs gone verdigris,
...

Two ravens looking down on the battlefield-
'Shall we pluck that lad's eyes? Bit of tripe, too? '
'Why not? Lad won't miss 'em! ' Eyelids peeled
and orbs swallowed in a trice! Lad lying askew
...

sun fires the green field

ravens descend to scavenge-
midnight black at noon
...

The morning watch begins early
with coffee and a smoke topside.
Four o'clock on the ninth day
of November-
...

Poetry is the term applied to the many forms in which we have given a rhythmic expression to our most imaginative and intense perceptions of our world, ourselves, and the interrelationship of both.

I might include some of the following as noteworthy aspects-
...

Quiet down, class
Mick wants to lecture you
about one of his pet subjects
...

Once I saw a photograph
taken by a 71 year old
Japanese tourist
in pre-WW 2 London
...