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LC Apr 29
baby ducks are enveloped
within their mother's shadow,
gliding across the pond.

but under the surface,
the ducks furiously kick
to stay above water.
Escapril Day 28! Prompt: only an illusion.
I stuck with a simple metaphor that could be applied to many situations. I hope you enjoy this poem!
Dave Robertson Nov 2021
Before the storm, the river had all but given up,
the guttural roar of wind and deluge
rattled all souls, except her
and in the aftermath she swelled
and bore delicious weight again
and my eye-contact
with the pageantry of the green headed drake
told all the muddy truths:
to underestimate is to lose
inheritance tax in britain is no longer allowed.

stamp duty is also not charged. a lot of families wanted their parents to have their houses next time  more than having to sell the houses to meet the bill. it is better to keep houses in the family and rent them out or restore them as they be needed next time. the figure for last year was 3000 who regretfully had to sell.

it is also illegal to feed wheat bread to ducks it must be rye bread. unfortunaly wheat makes people (and ducks 🦆  )  depressed. i refuse depressed ducks in britain.
legislation going through as fwoah and dream have said ai and fwoah (boleyn in england ) is fed up with depressed teenagers.
Wild ducks and grasses mingle so deeply this morn
I saw them beneath the blackish red sunny dawn
The sun rises behind the clouds, to cover it's face
And cry dip dip dip, now and then - this time anytime
Aroma has blown on the air, the message is floating
Everywhere: Night-birds --street-girls, drunk Romeos go back home
O old beggar mom, don't depart your dome and Starve today,
Let your breast-feeding baby quite in fasting by red eyes,
Pray rain, rain, rain, and raining today day and night
Drops on things anywhere, on wild geese, and on grass
My first English poetry
Strung Jan 2021
Open gangly arms are reaching
Forward, to a magic gate
Red and faded, painted beady
dragon eyes.
Little water house, you sing to me,
Ears floating from my head
Towards wispy cotton cattails.

I crave a jaunt with ducklings
In icy morning air,
Even if the pond is softly frozen.

Who lives in murky water?
And sings early winter songs
To a fragile gangly girl
Who's prone to listen
And respond?

Palm-sized apples, bitter cores
Losing noons to grape groves.
I wished to be a raspberry ferry
Floating downstream
Forevermore.
For them to write a haiku,
for us is to define
two variables in a  
curved relationship.

If our form of encoding
sound wasn't  as it already is:
we wouldn't have statistics -
say X and β
f(-) and ε

the succinct -
hard to orientate
units of encoding 
as complete meaning
Majestic.
Nonlinear régressions explains how to define two variable in curves shape
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Dispensing Keys
by Hafiz aka Hafez
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The imbecile
constructs cages
for everyone he knows,
while the sage
(who has to duck his head
whenever the moon glows)
keeps dispensing keys
all night long
to the beautiful, rowdy,
prison gang.

Keywords/Tags: Hafiz, Hafez, translation, imbecile, cages, sage, duck, head, moon, keys, night, prison, gang, prisoners, inmates, felons
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
The Platypus
(a limerick for adults, teens and older children)
by Michael R. Burch

The platypus, myopic,
is ungainly, not ******.
His feet for bed
are over-webbed,
and what of his proboscis?

The platypus, though, is eager
although his means are meager.
His sight is poor;
perhaps he’ll score
with a passing duck or ******.

Keywords/Tags: limerick, double limerick, humor, light verse, nonsense verse, platypus, ******, duck, proboscis, nose, beak, feet, webbed, flippers, eyes, eyesight, sight, vision, myopia, myopic, animal, nature, ******, erotica



The Mallard
by Michael R. Burch

The mallard is a fellow
whose lips are long and yellow
with which he, honking, kisses
his *****, boisterous mistress:
my pond’s their loud bordello!



Dot Spotted
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a leopardess, Dot,
who indignantly answered: "I'll not!
The gents are impressed
with the way that I'm dressed.
I wouldn't change even one spot."



Stage Craft-y
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a dromedary
who befriended a crafty canary.
Budgie said, "You can’t sing,
but now, here’s the thing—
just think of the tunes you can carry!"



Clyde Lied!
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a mockingbird, Clyde,
who bragged of his prowess, but lied.
To his new wife he sighed,
"When again, gentle bride?"
"Nevermore!" bright-eyed Raven replied.



Other Limericks



The Better Man
by Michael R. Burch

Dear Ed: I don't understand why
you will publish this other guy—
when I'm brilliant, devoted,
one hell of a poet!
Yet you publish Anonymous. Fie!

Fie! A pox on your head if you favor
this poet who's dubious, unsavor
y, inconsistent in texts,
no address (I checked!) :
since he's plagiarized Unknown, I'll wager!



"Of Tetley's and V-2's" or "Why Not to Bomb the Brits"
by Michael R. Burch

The English are very hospitable,
but tea-less, alas, they grow pitiable...
or pitiless, rather,
and quite in a lather!
O bother, they're more than formidable.
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