Reading from “City Slicker’s Guide to the Amish Country”

Poetry Reading at Open Mike Night

The Lamp Maker

We live in a world in need of those with the magic of light. Men that can capture the glow and the twinkle from a witty man’s eyes. Men with sight. Men with imagination and wands to cast spells of warmth and delight— a Merlin, Aladdin or Fairview’s Lamp Maker.

Who? Mark Miles, the man who has made a quest to salvage the future from the past. The Amish Country’s magician who can reach into a barrel and coax a genie into a bottle, a toaster or a Coleman lantern. He turns the ordinary into extra-ordinary lamplight. Lamps that chuckle, giggle or gossip from a living room table.

Mark Miles, a 20 year Navy veteran now spends time combing through the inventories of second hand stores and flea markets where he looks for objects that call out from our childhoods. Coleman lanterns electrified can give us everyday reminders of quality time spent with our dads and grandpas. Vintage kitchen appliances repurposed connect us visually to grandma’s welcoming kitchen of years ago. You won’t believe the variety of antiques that he transmutes* into lighting, end tables, rustic flag holders, chairs and wine glass holders; all with his unique Americana style.

You can view many of the Lampmaker’s unusual designs on-line at his Facebook page: milesmakeovers, or for-sale in the windows of Fairview’s favorite bargain store, the Sunrise Thrift Shop, a few hundred paces east of the traffic light at the corner of M33 and M72.

*transmutes- alters or changes into something different than its original purpose.

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Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books®
Excerpted from “City Slicker’s Guide to the Amish Country”
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Richard and Mary Rensberry, Authors at QuickTurtle Books

Guest Artists: Great Lakes Graham and the Fiddleman

fiddleman post

On Saint Patrick’s Day I had the honor of reading after the performance of Great Lakes Graham and the Fiddleman at the Skyline Event Center in Comins. It was a lively evening filled to capacity in both music and patrons. Troy Graham is a talented song writer and fellow poet from Marquette, Michigan. His partner on the fiddle, Allen Dupris is get-down and ecstatic in bowmanship and accompanying vocals.
I immensely enjoyed the music and time spent with these guys as tentative plans were bantered about for doing a poetry reading up in Marquette in the near future. I look forward to such a warm welcome.
Troy and I also traded books of verse and I am glad to say I felt a strong connection to his work. He is an excellent poet.
I am delighted to share one of his poems in this post.

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Snow Plow Continue reading

A Pixel World

a-pixel-world

A Pixel World

I have drifted away
like a feather
down the AuSable
River. I have entered
the homes of neighbors
and new found friends,
the tactile lives
of horses and cows,
the bitter bite
of winter ice
and sub-zero wind.

I have ignored you
like the TV news and all of its
cast of characters.
Most are forgotten, a few
I miss– like Life
Cameos, Richard Ankers and Sofia
Kioroglou.

I am not alone.

I am busy
writing books, interviewing
and being interviewed.
I read
eyes and smiles
without the interface.
It is better that way,
to not feel like a dot
in a pixel world.

Richard Rensberry, author at QuickTurtle Books®
amazon.com/author/richardrensberry

Free Download of Wolf Pack Moon

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The Great Poetry E-Book Free-For-All

USE THE ABOVE LINK FOR A FREE DOWNLOAD OF MY BOOK UNTIL MIDNIGHT PST DECEMBER 1. I would greatly appreciate reviews posted to Amazon. When you go to Amazon Books just type my name into the search and my books will come up so a review can be shared. Thanks.

The Drowned and the Drowning

WHERE WRITERS DWELL. MEMORY OR IMAGINATION, CAN THEY OR OTHERS FOR CERTAIN TELL?

Richard M. Ankers - Author

She stood in a puddle in the centre of the bridge, her umbrella blown inside out. Perhaps the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen, she was also the most bedraggled. Other people stomped on by spraying water in all directions, some workers, some spenders, some lovers, some freaks and not one offered her help.
The girl, forlorn to the point of devastated, brushed aside auburn locks that swept straight back into her alabaster face and wept. Like a naiad, she looked to haunt the puddle she stood in unable to move away, unwilling to leave, too sad to even raise her head. Somehow, it seemed more than a bad day, worse than the weather, an accumulation of that thing we call life and she just couldn’t take anymore.
I had to do something. Pivotal moments are few and far between in life, always important, and I feared if she went…

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