Image by Christine Renney It’s in the gutPacingThe postponementAnd when it seesAnd it hearsIt fades It’s not nowThat awful anticipationIt’s full blownAnd not at allRegular It’s in an unexampled actionThe methodical destructionOf handAnd bookcaseBlood smeared splintersAnd skin in the carpet Something to mend andTo clean andTo rebuildLike a lovebiteA bruiseSomething to hide
Tag Archives: Anger
MEMPHIS ’68
Image by Christine Renney Looking downWearied Another ceremonyJetlag Another awardRush hour traffic Far from homeHe felt oldWhy? Another audienceUnfamiliar sights Red busesTottering precariously Busy people with destinationsJobs to do Rain turned to redWet black concreteTo blind white dust Objective facesTo anger People mourningAppalled, astounded His audience thenA man with a dreamMurdered Pulling himself fromThe windowContinue reading “MEMPHIS ’68”
BINDS
Image by Christine Renney A loosening knot or the rope that binds The older and deeper scar Is livid Still healing And on the left a fine line An almost perfect match The base of an empty can Marks the cloth And it cuts on through The broken gin bottle’s jaw
A PETRIFIED CIRCLE
Image by Christine Renney She is full to brimming Short and scary Unfettered by humility And loudly croaking abuse Her daughter moves from her In a petrified circle
SOLE TO SOUL
Image by Christine Renney With the full weight Of his soul on the bottle He crushes glass to pavement And kicks The old lady spits her gum
ADJOINING ROOMS
Image by Christine Renney ‘If, in the First Act, you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one it should be fired. Otherwise, don’t put it there’ – Anton Chekhov Since the disappearance Carter hadn’t ventured into his son’s room, not properly. He had stepped across the threshold, yes, but mostlyContinue reading “ADJOINING ROOMS”
THE PICK OF THE SWIMS
Image by Christine Renney The sun was directly overhead and it beat down on them. Tom squinted at it and craved the cool of his room. It was early, just twelve, midday, the halfway mark and he couldn’t pretend any longer that his hopes for today were not lost and he wondered how long heContinue reading “THE PICK OF THE SWIMS”
MY POETRY IS IN PIECES
Image by Christine Renney My poetry is the DAILY MAIL HEADLINE And a BIGOT‘S RANT, making me angry. My poetry is wanting to answer. My poetry is feeling how I feel When I can’t. My poetry IT DON‘T KNOW NO GRAMMAR. My poetry is a passenger in me van. My poetry is too short andContinue reading “MY POETRY IS IN PIECES”
GHOST LETTER 20
Image by Christine Renney I ease my foot off the accelerator and begin to slow down. The driver behind sounds his horn and I watch in the mirror as, gesticulating wildly, he pulls back. But locking his headlights onto high beam he edges closer and closer still until I can’t see. Squinting I lean closeContinue reading “GHOST LETTER 20”
