The depth to which I would go for you
cannot be measured or said in words.
I need you, yes, but it is less
than articulate when it comes to devotion
and trust. Those are precious beyond Continue reading
love
Happiness
The Yearning
My being
Empty as a bucket
Rings
With something metallic
And impatient
As the skin
Of a drum. Continue reading
Sweet Love
His antennae
go whacko. He is buzzed
and rapt. His hairs stand
up on his toes as he twitches
his probing proboscis
for wafts of your blossom scent.
Richard Rensberry, author at QuickTurtle Books®
Love
Love never grows old,
just our bodies
not our souls.
Richard Rensberry, author at QuickTurtle Books®
Summer Love
Painting by Richard Rensberry
Summer Love
We clasped hands and slipped away
with the horses down the lane
into the meadow. Red-winged blackbirds
held chorus in the cattails Continue reading
Insomnia
The tide is rising.
Too much moonshine
and firecrackers. Too many
sirens and helicopters. Too much
coughing, Facebook and Instagram.
The feeble sweeping of dust devils. A cat
in heat. A cat on my chest. Thirst
for water, lime and tequila
on a weekday
with loneliness wrapped around me
instead of you, My Love
instead of you.
Richard Rensberry, Author at Quick Turtle Books®
Carefree
I want to lay in a field
where strawberries taste
like sunshine, where killdeers haste
one wing away
just out of reach.
I want to teach our child
how to play a game
of clouds. Kiss you
on the mouth
and tickle your fancy in and out
while the lark and whippoorwill sing
from their precious perch
on a thistle. I want to whistle.
I want to hum. I want to bumble
along to Neil Young
or Mumford and Sons
on a Sunday
or a Monday
with you.
Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books®
Without You
There is silence and there is silence
of absence. Silence that is silent
has no weight. It is brother or sister
to peace. It is the silence
of a rose or an ocean of poppies.
It is the substance of a dream
without bounds. It is infinite
trust. It is true
love for another… in a silence of absence
I would be wanting and scared.
I would be empty. I would be an echo
or a shadow in which to roam. In a silence
of absence I’d be
alone.