Rap Continue reading
Rap Continue reading
away one night
when summer scents
filled ditch pockets
where the road dipped
through patchy fog. Our bike
was a whisper instead of a holler
and near Cheboygan, a mountain
lion leapt, missed or changed
its fickle mind. Fate, you said
had passed nearby, an omen
we should live a little closer
to the edge of the risks
we take in our lives.
you tossed like the river
and fell forever
into my arms.
Richard Rensberry, author at QuickTurtle Books®
From HeartWood to be published December 2016
I have taken a liking
to the skill saw’s teeth,
its banshee screams as I let her rip Continue reading
I have been writing poetry since the age of twelve and created my first chapbook at the age of fourteen. After showing a few sample poems to friends and neighbors, the chapbook was relegated to a dusty drawer to disintegrate into fodder for a rat’s nest. Some of the poems were good, many I am sure were bad, but all originated from a bludgeoned or joyful heart, mine. I am almost certain the rats found them more pleasurable than any of my human readers. Continue reading
We clasped hands and slipped away
with the horses down the lane
into the meadow. Red-winged blackbirds
held chorus in the cattails
where the cattle drank. The creek had a rush
to compliment the laugh of the mallard ducks
and the air was abuzz with dragonflies.
I remember your face freckled and petite
as we knelt to pick orchids and kissed.
We snipped bouquets to freshen our nest
cradled in limbs of an ancient tree; paradise
where we carved our names, sunbathed
bare-naked, satiated and carefree.
From HeartWood by Richard Rensberry, to be published December 2016 by QuickTurtle Books®
I am very happy that Richard Rensberry has decided to host his second book The Wolf Pack Moon for promotion! He becomes the first author to promote two books through my websites and now has a cover…
Source: First Double Book Promotion! Author Richard Rensberry!
Shaw shank Redemption, one of the greatest movies ever. There is nothing like the scene where he spins the disc on the warden’s phono and the music soars like the prisoner’s souls.
There’s an old
with the whump whump Continue reading
There’s a depth
in your eyes
where the night skies
If I were the rain,
I would be less begrudging.
I’d teach Heaven how to beat
a rhythmical drum. I would
speak fluent and decisive electricity. I‘d strike up
a conversation with the wind
and babble with the trees and roofs. If I were the rain,
I’d hammer away as if I could play Continue reading