"burse" poems
Robert Breen
The body moves as if Jell-O in our hands.
Intense heat makes it so small.
What was once hair
shrivels tight to the skull.
The char falls, exposes
steamed white flesh and bone.
The sweet pungent odor
stings the nostrils.
You learn fast to mouth-breathe.
We place the fetal corpse
inside the red neoprene bag.
We tighten and buckle the leather straps.
The coroner places the body on the gurney.
The chaplain makes a sign
And what about the match?
The one who sets a fire.
Is commonly called the match.
At the station,
I hose down the inside of the red burse.
And watch the spirit of a mother’s child,
Hold tight to the bars of the floor.
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 3:54 PM UTC
A moment that will arise in bed between the sheets
The time of passion with reaction that can’t be beat
A man picks up a woman who was sitting alone at the bar
He saw an opportunity and was going to take advantage and go far
The man slipped a drug in the woman’s drink
Before the woman knew it, she passed out and no time to think
The man carried the woman to his room
It was definitely going to be a moment being soon
The man later loosened up the woman’s clothes
He quickly made his advance
It was an opportunity being chance
Awoken from the on going ******
The woman’s heart pounding from the acceleration of must
Suddenly the woman urged the man to stop
Yet he remained focused by staying on top
The woman screamed for help
But her screams were only an echo being transparent
Yet more force into enforce
The bed started shaking hard again the wall
The noise could be heard all out in the hall
Other guest listened through the wall to explore
But something just wasn’t right
There was a quietness of no sound in sight
The Police were summoned immediately
They knocked on the door, but there was no answer for sure
The Police burse the door open, and found the woman unconscious
The man escaped through a window being obvious
The woman was taken to the hospital for examination
This was a case of date **** being the indication
Precaution, if you are a woman in a bar, don’t lose sight of your drink
The end result, you won’t have time to think nor wink
But the worse scenario, death
Take your drive wherever you move
Watch the man stalker as he is trying to be smooth
Listen and follow your instincts as your chapter could be a final conclude.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 2:25 PM UTC