Murder Most Fowl! Poem by Michael Burch

Murder Most Fowl!
by Michael R. Burch

'Murder most foul! '
cried the mouse to the owl.

'Friend, I'm no sinner;
you're merely my dinner.

As you fall on my sword,
take it up with the Lord.'

the wise owl replied
as the tasty snack died.

Published by Lighten Up and Potcake Chapbooks

In an attempt to demonstrate that not all couplets are heroic, I have created a series of poems called 'Less Heroic Couplets.' I believe even poets should abide by truth-in-advertising laws! This poem also questions who the 'original sinner' was. How was it not the Creator, if such a being exists, since owls are forced by nature to murder innocent mice and other prey animals? Is it possible that the Creator is not so heroic either? Keywords/Tags: Death, Nature, Natural Law, Doggerel, Rhyme, Pain, Murder, Original, Sin, Creator, Creation, Earth, Wildlife, Predator, Prey, Mouse, Owl, Wise, Wisdom



Salvation of a Formalist, an Ode to Entropy
by Michael R. Burch

Entropy?
God's universal decree
That I get to be
Disorderly?
Suddenly
My erstwhile boxed-in verse is free?
Wheeeeee!



The Pelican't
by Michael R. Burch

Enough with this pitiful pelican!
He's awkward and stinks! Sense his smellican!
His beak's far too big,
so he eats like a pig,
and his breath reeks of fish, I can tellican!





Door Mouse
by Michael R. Burch

I'm sure it's not good for my heart—
the way it will jump-start
when the mouse scoots the floor
(I try to kill it with the door,
never fast enough, or
fling a haphazard shoe...
always too slow too)
in the strangest zig-zaggedy fashion
absurdly inconvenient for mashin',
till our hearts, each maniacally revvin',
make us both early candidates for heaven.



The Humpback
by Michael R. Burch

The humpback is a gullet
equipped with snarky fins.
It has a winning smile:
and when it SMILES, it wins
as miles and miles of herring
excite its fearsome grins.
So beware, unwary whalers,
lest you drown, sans feet and shins!
​


Apologies to España
by Michael R. Burch

the reign
in Trump's brain
falls mainly as mansplain



No Star
by Michael R. Burch

Trump, you're no 'star.'
Putin made you an American Czar.
Now, if we continue down this dark path you've chosen,
pretty soon we'll be wearing lederhosen.



tRUMP is the butt of many jokes.—Michael R. Burch



Marsh Song
by Michael R. Burch

Here there is only the great sad song of the reeds
and the silent herons, wraithlike in the mist,
and a few drab sunken stones, unblessed
by the sunlight these late sixteen thousand years,
and the beaded dews that drench strange ferns, like tears
collected against an overwhelming sadness.

Here the marsh exposes its dejectedness,
its gutted rotting belly, and its roots
rise out of the earth's distended heaviness,
to claw hard at existence, till the scars
remind us that we all have wounds, and I...
I have learned again that living is despair
as the herons cleave the placid, dreamless air.

Originally published by The Lyric



Updated Advice to Amorous Bachelors
by Michael R. Burch

At six-thirty,
feeling flirty,
I put on the hurdy-gurdy...
But Ms. Purdy,
all alert-y,
kicked me where I'm sore and hurty.

The moral of my story?
To avoid a fate as gory,
flirt with gals a bit more wh-rey!