Ditch Apples

ditch-apples_edited-1

 

Wild along the roads
trees full of autumn apple
sauce, crisps, pies and friends.

.

Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books®
http://www.richardrensberry.com
amazon.com/author/richardrensberry

 

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Back Path

A great one by Glenys Doull!

lifecameos

Past our flats’ back doors
runs a narrow path down
to carports at the back.

Unnoticed by other tenants
emerald green slime crept
glowed over that path
overhung by clothes lines
and back porch eaves.
Until Susie in flat three
slipped, nearly fell,
until I fell down flat.

” _______ !” those flourishing
streaks of emerald slime
covering the path so
sheltered from the sun !
But no one owned that
path or cleaned it.

We attached her partner’s
family’s bottle of slime
killer to my old garden hose.
She walked up the path
spraying slime killer as I
rolled out the hose behind her.

We killed the slime !

Several years later
it is back again.

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Guest Artist, Glenys Doull of New Zealand

It is my privilege to introduce Glenys as part of our Guest Artist Series.  I believe she is an important poet of our times and for the people.  Unencumbered by the literary judgements of intellectuals, she is part of the movement to return poetry to the people–where it rightfully belongs.  I hope you take the time to enjoy her wonderful skill of imagery and verse.

These poems are used by permission and copyrighted by Glenys Doull.

 

Sweet Peas

Heavily scented warm
summer air draws in
buzzing bees eagerly
seeking precious nectar.

Sweet peas swarm up
netting on the old shed wall
a perfumed rainbow
tapestry of many hues.

Pale pastels to bright
reds, purples, pinks,
blues and lilacs paint a
masterpiece on old timbers.

Rich pickings for the
school children’s flower show. Continue reading

Statues

Statues

It is hard to grapple
with a statue. In fact
it was quite humorous to watch
an angry mob try
to destroy
Robert E. Lee
in Charlottesville.

They cursed him
and beat him with sticks,
they kicked him, pissed on him
and cheered
as one asshole dropped
his drawers
and shit on him.

Robert didn’t scream.
He didn’t weep or plead
for leniency. He didn’t
even flinch as he sat
resolute on his horse
as if to say, “Go ahead….
curse me, sledge me,
rain me with blows, but
you won’t erase
my face from history…. creation

takes compassion
and gentle touch, it takes vision
and clever hands, it takes artists
with chisels and skills…. not shit
and piss
from anarchists.”

Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books® richardrensberry.com