#pots
Because if it had have been you who it happened to
I would have been there
I wouldn’t have cared about the missed pay check, even though you are financially more secure than I am
The added expenses
The disruption to my own life
I would have been on the plane or in the car
I would have helped with meals, caring for pets, going with you to scary appointments
I wouldn’t have asked for anything, I thought that was what you did when you loved someone
Every time I think of you it hurts because if it had have been you,
I would have done so much more
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 8:21 AM UTC
Broken ***
a useful thing which once was whole
becomes a nest of shards,
separated, bifurcated many times
new lines drawn, new borders
under new expressive orders
a hidden shape it does not know
displaced, morphically disgraced,
displaying daggers
drawn from deep within
the sharpness of a fractured skin
Oct 12, 2025
Oct 12, 2025 at 4:15 AM UTC
A mangled bird slumps in her gilded cage
Surrounded by opulence and feasts she cannot savor
Golden bars festooned with rolling joints and popping bones
A doll sewn by a child's hand
Pull her thread as she buckles like a berry
Blood
A viscous syrup in her legs
Sticky confluence
Heartbeat like a hummingbird
The nectar would likely cause an eruption of glowing pink hives
A rosy sanguine sea
Vision blurring
Rumination like hands on a clock
Round and round
Living days like
Copy, paste
Groundhog's Day
Oh, look, it's night again
Ice packs and Epsom baths
Erratic dreams
The clock resets
Oh, joy, it's day again
Mar 13, 2025
Mar 13, 2025 at 2:18 AM UTC
It's a beautiful ***
But wouldn't it benefit from some green?
I reckon you better start prepping that soil,
Because we're going to plant a tea tree!
Imagine how wonderful that would be,
Blossoming white flowers, a warm cup and bees.
Oh, imagine a garden full of bumble bees!
Buzzing about the perfect petals,
Pouring pollen into the breeze.
If only we had a garden,
We could sit and lunch,
Pastry, cheese, and the sweet drink from our tree!
Darling, while your out buying seed,
Would you grab a few more pots?
Feb 27, 2025
Feb 27, 2025 at 10:28 AM UTC
my body is a symphony of sounds
like the
snap
—crackle—
pop!
of my bones as i stretch and climb the stairs,
the
thud.
thud.
thud.
of my heart, frantic in its rest.
a shrill ringing underpins it all
when my ears ***** to a phantom sound,
the
\gasping\
|huffing|
_sighing_
keeps the beat of uncooperative lungs.
my body, like an old house where teenagers throw a party,
finding a way to keep it alive for one more night.
Mar 10, 2023
Mar 10, 2023 at 4:01 PM UTC
Pots, pans and plates
Pots, pans
And the larder
A ghost house
Trembling
The larder
Stocked with oats and rice
Pots
And when it is time to cook
And then the gas stove is lit for
A feast
Pots, pans and plates
- Rows of jars line
The windowsill
Preserves, chutneys, jams
Preserves, chutneys
- and mango atchar
That reminds me
Of India
Oh! Lord Gandhi!
Mar 12, 2021
Mar 12, 2021 at 4:43 AM UTC
Breaths taken
Midnight cold
Talking to myself
3Am's
Countless outcries
Isolation and work
Later found me
Gazing dark nights
Mar 9, 2021
Mar 9, 2021 at 1:19 PM UTC
Candles are how we keep fires as pets.
we scoop the pyre into our palms
and dump it into pots
and expect it to stay lit on its own.
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 9:23 PM UTC
Squall
by Michael R. Burch
There, in that sunny arbor,
in the aureate light
filtering through the waxy leaves
of a stunted banana tree,
I felt the sudden monsoon of your wrath,
the clattery implosions
and copper-bright bursts
of the bottoms of pots and pans.
I saw your swollen goddess’s belly
wobble and heave
in pregnant indignation,
turned tail, and ran.
Published by Chrysanthemum, Poetry Super Highway, Barbitos and Poetry Life & Times. Keywords/Tags: pregnancy, pregnant, goddess, belly, wrath, anger, storm, monsoon, hormones, pots, pans
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 9:51 PM UTC
i wish i could fall into
those pots and vessels
and shatter like ceramics
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 6:31 PM UTC
Dribbling drops from above,
sunken in cieling
seal skin smooth
saltfish nicely
butchered
bubbling
Floats and
sinks for
ocean floor
kisses
-coquetishly-
Can't stay too
long,
Hey, I'm Mister
Meeseeks,
look at me!
Can you finish cooking?
Can't exist too
long
Simple tasks in
order to give
them a quick
and proper
inevitable
heat death
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
There's a war on
inside me
Raging on
And I'm fighting.
But I'm not free.
And never will be.
I battle my body...
So everyone can see
(Especially me)
that this war will not end in defeat
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 3:26 AM UTC
1
We're not in darkest Africa
and jungles don't adorn,
this little bit of overgrown
that wraps around our lawn,
2
Plants of pretty colors
sit comfortable in there bed,
and about two dozen footsteps
find us at the potting shed.
3
Our potting shed has seen better days,
some parts have been rebuilt
and it's suffering from subsidence
for it's slightly on a tilt.
4
The walls desperately need painting
because the wood has got some rot
but a boring place to come and sit
it definitely is not.
5
Odds and ends adorn the shelves
and the places spiders tread
where the dust has piled on the weight
and the woodworm may have spread.
6
Smells that we first come across
carry the scent of damp,
foul stinks from half empty sacks,
paint tins that have gone rank.
7
An old oil lamp expel the rust
like dandruff from my head
reigning down golden crumbs
that looks like toasted bread.
8
We think that we have found some proof
of what might linger around
footprints so large and evident
that a Tigers walked upon this ground.
9
So while we have been sleeping
and resting through the night
there's been a Tiger in our shed
but he keeps out of sight.
10
We've sorted through many boxes
we've moved some things aside,
looked into shadows with a torch
but we can't find where he hides.
11
Perhaps he's gone out hunting
for an evening meal,
eyeing up the neighbors dog
with energetic zeal.
12
Perhaps he's out sunbathing,
sitting somewhere in a tree
camouflaged with all those stripes,
that's the reason we can't see.
13
I don't know if he's Sumatran,
Siberian or Bengal
and he doesn't ever show himself
or come to me when I call.
14
I believe he stays outside all day
and only hides in here at night
but I won't come down here when its dark
only in the light.
15
He is a wild animal so
one must take the some care
for he could be stalking us as prey
he could spring from anywhere.
16
But we leave the door unlocked for him
and we've made a comfy bed,
and a sign that just reads "WELCOME"
to the Tiger in our shed
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
I was the plant in your vast apartment. You gave me water and left me in the sunlight to grow. You did everything you could. You helped me prosper.
Eventually you grew out of your apartment and you no longer wanted mere plants to keep you company.
I watched you pack your boxes full of pictures and birthday cards and gifts and love. You continued to pack as the world grew colder and the sunlight began to shrink. Eventually my *** cracked and you couldn't notice because you were invested in things much more important than a simple plant.
In the middle of January you finally left and the blinds were closed and the sun was shut out. You wisely decided a dead plant with a broken *** wasn't worth the time, nor the space in your new apartment.
So now I'm sitting in the middle of your old apartment floor, still waiting for water and a glimpse of sunlight that everybody realizes couldn't resurrect me.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC