Wordplay Poems

You’re a poet, as they say
All you write is poetically full of art
Wince when you read your stuff
As from literacy you stand apart
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Some days are meant for marshmallows
Such light and puffy stuff
Time for tossing words about
For phenomenal fun with fluff
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Bumptious
Scrumptious
Totally presumptuous.
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These are humorous epigrams: puns, wordplay, quips, zingers, japes, jests, gags, giggles, one-liners, irony, etc.
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Useful idiots
All around.
And they failed to
Understand me.
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Insight... is only superseded by foresight,
which in truth is an out-of-the-box sight-

of thinking, brainstorming, eyes phased and sideways,
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Accomplished verse must whizZ
Zestfully forwards as imagination's fleA
Bites author's itchy fingers. Cells greY
Yearn to coin expressions. Gift of gaB
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This tale describes how Israelites all grumbled
at God and Moses in the wilderness.
Although they all by biting snakes were humbled,
God cured them by a magical process
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As gifts to Solomon the Sheban Queen
brought lavish presents, Cushite gold
and precious stones and incense, clearly keen
to prove that she would not withhold
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EARLY POEMS: JUVENILIA
by Michael R. Burch

These are early poems, most of them written between the ages of 11-18 and some published in my high school literary journal, THE LANTERN. Other poems were written later and several of those were published in my college literary journal, HOMESPUN.
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My Grandpa is incredible,
he's a mountain of a man;
He's kind and wise and sensible,
and does everything I can!
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These words ring in my ears as I dream of a meaning
I'm hungry to post, have another heart taste,
such, that promise of sex might not tempt me at all!
Hark! Sharp uptake of breath from freak's mind at a phrase,
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All poems are love poetry.
Love of language and wordplay;
Love of order and rhyme;
Love of lines and rhythms
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we speak often...
of revolution, yet
we almost never speak,
of the old woman left alone,
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New Runny Babitt (For Tanja)

While you were writing
serious wordplay,
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I like to play tricks with words,
Because they feel so much better than

The tricks I played with you.
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ALPHABET ARTISTRY
Able acrostic artist’s alignment adds air.
Alliteration asks acknowledgement aware,
Bard’s brain bequeaths benchmark billet, blends braid bans blare,
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XYLOPHONIC RESONANCE HE LICKS ENIGMATIC
Kindly refer to notes. and see Temptations and Poetic Pizza Extravaganza below :)

Xylophonic Resonance
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Wondrous whirling worlds of words
Wander away.
Smooth musical tunes from the Muses melt my mind
And make my heart go boom.
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CHOREOGRAPHY OF FUTURE

A boat aimlessly is being rowed by wind of wings by Nature and by Tao and by Zen poem.
Moon is dancing in the darkest moment of life without showing his face and hands and hearts.
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Damn, I just had the worst day/ had some turd say/ that my wordplay/ was third grade/ because I wouldn't curse hate/ but there's no worse fate/ than a fake verse spake/ to send you through reverse space/ I think ya'll need a word brace/ before you crumble like the world trades/ and you can end up in a hearse case/ if you disperse waste/ so put away your purse mace/ and nevermind who's first place/ I've loved this ever since I heard 'Face/ and keep up on it at an absurd pace/ and if this was all a bird race/ I've got two fingers right in third place/ so learn grace/ and see how every word's placed/ I turn rage into pages/ and make you nervous like a first date/ I'm an irate/ primate/ hot headed like desert climate/ I thirst lakes/ my nerve's ache/ and in the worst case/ I'm violent/ a giant/ causin' earthquakes/ from the first state/ all the way to the universe's birthplace/ mostly silent/ and defiant/ in the face of the law 'cause I aint buyin' it/ threw me in the wild/ expectin' me to die in it/ but I crawled outta the lion pit/ now I've got a child cub I've sired/ and a lioness/ the magnifier/ of my desire/ who I inspire with/ the strength I have acquired/ and all that I require's this/ my family is my entire bliss/ and if you think that makes me tired/ shit/ I'll fill my mouth with gasoline and spit the hottest fire/ bitch/ punch you in the iris/ with an iron fist/ your spinelessness/ has spread like wildfire/ viruses/ but I resist/ and climb ever higher/ immune to piousness/ and liars/ and I aspire/ to remain riotous/ until the day that I am finally dust/ I insist/ to assist you/ in your decision/ to desist fool/ before I rip you/ a new one in your cranial tissue/ I take issue/ with the misuse/ and abuse/ I have been through/ solely because that is what men do/ so I invent who? / Syrax the maniac in my mental/ I'm actually a brainiac/ who act's like a devil/ in fact/ I'm on my way back/ from an attack/ on your central/ nervous that my system is not impervious to men who/ pretend to/ befriend you/ then when it comes time to defend you/ they just end you/ just like my pad and my pen do/ lyrically rend you/ into so many pieces that nobody could mend you/ I defeat legions with my pencil/ and only swear allegiance/ to my regents/ who have been true/ throughout the seasons/ from ninety four to the most recent/ decent/ men and women who I respect for many reasons/ angels and heathens/ I love you all the same and forgive you of your treasons/ we all have our demons/ I have so many that I can even feel 'em breathin'/ and screamin'/ when I'm sleepin'/ or daydreamin'/ inside my head and I can't beat 'em/ but I need to defeat 'em/ so I can proceed to my freedom/ I just need the keys/ and the cure for this disease/ that keeps me beat up.
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A challenge is impending
An urge to prove, or improve
The zest to grow, n' not just pretending;
Or best to stick to lies
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By the sticks and stones I pray. Through my blood and bones I behold. Within the center of the circle. I am within I am. Source within me guides my soul. My body only that which has a beginning and an end. My physical consciousness is essential. For it is that which I am in this world. I am not a field of flowers. But i am a blade of grass. I gently catch the dew of dusk, offering it to the new day sun at the very top of my pointed crown. In the center of the circle I am fire. Earth. Air. Water. Spirit is the nature of the divine through which I devour the moonlight and transcend the stars. To uphold righteous creation in its midst between the veil and heaven where we all stand loyal to the throne of the divine. This by the sticks and stones. Is wordplay. This by my blood and bones. Is poetry. This without a doubt ends with nothing. But something deep within says something.what do you believe.
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What makes a poem what it is and recognised as such?
Is it announcing joy or bliss, as if these count so much?
Is it a sense of savoir faire, a touch of elegance,
A precious phrase beyond compare, of perfect eloquence?
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The most important of the lot is when we take exams,
It's then we study theme or plot, and when each student crams,
To learn the structured styles of verse and rhyming schemes as well,
Perhaps reciting to rehearse as poems cast their spell.
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Wordplay: exchange of thoughts, courage, flight,
destination, pain, fear, sense question, life, get to know, risk, strangers, meet,
coffee shop, hotel, room service, fast food, beach, most beautiful sunsets, walks, hours, oldtimer, spanish towns, language barrier, god, conversations,
search, pain, no answer, lonely seagoing seagull, a lot hiking, jj_mobilphotography, honored, return flight, pain, experience, adventure, grown, comfort, I was there...and all this with: be strong without drama
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These words ring in my ears as I dream of a meaning
I'm hungry to post, have another heart taste,
such, that promise of sex might not tempt me at all!
Hark! Sharp uptake of breath from freak's mind at a phrase,
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Useful idiots
All around.
And they failed to
Understand me.
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