The Desk
by Michael R. Burch

for Jeremy Michael Burch

There is a child I used to know
who sat, perhaps, at this same desk
where you sit now, and made a mess
of things sometimes.
                                     I wonder how
he learned at all . . .

He saw T-Rexes down the hall
and dreamed of trains and cars and wrecks.
He dribbled phantom basketballs,
shot spitwads at his schoolmates’ necks.

He played with pasty Elmer’s glue
(and sometimes got the glue on you!).
He earned the nickname—“teacher’s PEST.”

His mother had to come to school
because he broke the golden rule.
He dreaded each and every test.

But something happened in the fall—
he grew up big and straight and tall,
and now his desk is far too small;
so you can have it.
                                  One thing, though—
one swirling autumn, one bright snow,
one gooey tube of Elmer’s glue . . .
and you’ll outgrow this old desk, too.

Published by: TALESetc, A Bouquet of Poems (for children of all ages), Better Than Starbucks. Keywords/Tags: desk, school, spitwads, glue, teacher’s, pest, broke, golden rule, failed, test

Everyone longed to hear the thoughts of the sky,
And see the sun once again smile,
To feel the essence of life ,
Forever into the light they wish to dive.


But once again darkness overcame,
A sickness with no cure,
Fear black,
Blood red,
True love wanted by all,
For hope so far lost we fall asleep,
Into our dreams gone so deep.


Like a fire burning in the dark rain,
Trying to stand high knowing it would no longer shine again,
Suddenly she arrives,
Everyone looking up to the sky,
Joyful they laugh and play,
Slowly darkness fades away,
Slowly sadness goes away.


Bright to their sight,
Life again comes out to fight,
With the love of a mother,
The light becomes stronger,
Hurray!!!
Hurray!!!
Hurray!!!
Once again a small town is saved by the love of a mother.

I’m waiting patiently to wake up
a living nightmare where I’m always stuck,
this thing called life that I have no desire for,
there’s a million exits but only one opened door.

So I raised my happinesses tolerance
now referred to only in the past tense.
Two sides and two faces; who decides which is best?
I just don’t know which one I recognize less.

My only saviour has been running late
but I promised that I would always wait.
She says I’m acting too stupid when she knows that I’m smart,
it’s these little contradictions that rip all apart.

I’m trying on all shades of purple and white,
I’ve gotten bored of only blue and red each night.
Why say so long when we can just say goodbye,
all that’s right is wrong and we feed truth a lie,
that’s the similarities and differences of you and I.

The puzzle piece was right but the picture’s wrong,
gifted with a short window but I needed long.
You know there’s no outcome I can see obtaining a win,
and your outsides are mingled with those that are in.

You can’t tell me that I’m clearly right,
I thought I was the only one putting up a fight.
You know we can’t go around in this circle anymore,
and my insides are bruised, swollen and sore.

But I’m not fit to rule, no,
I’m broken in half instead of small pieces.
I beg for each molecule to grow,
but I’m out of contracts and short on leases.
It’s plain to see the impact on me
that naturally you shape the best version I can be,
but I’m not fit to rule, no.

I’ve got strength in supply except where I need it most,
under the impression that I’m hanging on to a ghost.
For once I concur that the best things in life are free,
but my outsides keep my in from escaping.

But I’m not fit to rule, so,
I accept the disappointment with the empty hands.
Another deal that’s a cruel blow,
the hour glass; broken, but there’s no stopping the sands.
It’s plain the see the impact on me,
but I’ll continually suffer in solitary.
But I’m not fit to rule, no.

Keep on running, keep on gunning,
close your eyes and plug your ears.
Keep on running, I’m sure they’re coming,
share the skies but not your fears.

Game of Election
Have a single Rule

The Rule States
"Follow NO Rules"

This rule is Simply Not a Rule
In-fact it’s a Commandment

Inscribed in "Tricks and Politics"
The holy book for Politicians

Politicians bow before the book
They blindly follow the book

By hook or the crook
They fight elections

They may either win or lose
But the rule is never overruled

They always abide by the Rule
And play the game with true spirit