Tuesday, 22 May 2018

22nd May 2018

may blossom
cast at high speed
peony petals


© Rachel Green 2018

sending love

she writes it everywhere
thinking it endears her
to the recipient
Does she think the victims
of the Grenfell fire
are soothed by her ten seconds?
I think they'd prefer some positive action
by the government who skimped on the regulations
then offloaded the blame
on the previous incumbent
(he's already retired so that's okay)
Unconsciously,
she echoes the orangeman
thinking of you
as if that's a viable solution
to the seventeenth school shooting
in eighteen weeks.
Thinking of you,
and how much the NRA
lines my personal pocket.
A small sacrifice of thirty kids
for another personal billion.


© Rachel Green 2018

Monday, 21 May 2018

21st May 2018

morning cacophony
neighbourhood dogs all barking
lilac-scented breeze


© Rachel Green 2018

he swears he found it dead
and was just curious
about what makes a cat work.
The shed smells like a charnal house
the walls speckled with blood
and weapon trails enough
for an episode of CSI.
The acrid smell
of intestines and stomach acid;
blood-heavy fur
disguising the original colour
and the hammered-flat head
denies identification.
"Boys will be boys," she says
as she ushers him into the house
for supper and a bath before bedtime.

Mrs Morris bangs a spoon
against an empty tin can.
Calling for Whiskers.
Calling, calling.


© Rachel Green 2018

Sunday, 20 May 2018

20th May 2018

nature's tricks
avoiding the mower's blade
dandelion heads


© Rachel Green 2018

when did she lose
her love of colour?
In the details
she delights in the play of paint
one texture over another;
but when she looks at the whole
all she sees is chaos
She needs to find the darkness
of pthalo blue, Prussian
and Payne's grey
for only then
will her light shine through.


© Rachel Green 2018

Saturday, 19 May 2018

19th May 2018

dandelion fairies
drifting through the open window
birdsong


© Rachel Green 2018

in the window
of an overpriced junk shop
'the antique store'
a cartwheel
for decorative purposes
give me the idea for mounting
a circular painting.
Lack of funds prompts innovation
and the use of plywood
and cross-braces
but yay!
new painting.


© Rachel Green 2018

Friday, 18 May 2018

18th May 2018

dappled sunlight
early morning dog walk
forget-me-nots


© Rachel Green 2018

young lady
invites me to her graduation
4000 miles away
alas, I can't go.
More to the point,
I fail to make her a gift in time,
so last minute flowers
from a shop local to her
cost me an overdraft.
Should I finish the gift
and send it late?
Or save it for someone else?
or sell it for the price
of the flowers I sent?


© Rachel Green 2018

Thursday, 17 May 2018

17th May 2018

dandelion clocks
ripening in the sunshine
running children

© Rachel Green 2018

learning to paint
thirty years
after art school.
I think my father was right:
I never did get a job as an artist
or gallery director.
that fine arts degree
got me a job as a car park attendant
followed by the DSS
and a nervous breakdown
but at the very least
I have real art on my walls

© Rachel Green 2018

Wednesday, 16 May 2018

16th May 2018

high winds
piling up debris
cherry blossom


© Rachel Green 2018

cutting the hedge
was an annual week-long chore.
my father, in overalls
and canvas overcoat
to protect him from the wrath
of hawthorn and holly;
tent canvas laid out
to catch the clippings
and an ever present fire
constantly burning;
dealing with the product
of two thousand feet
of ten-foot high hedging;
the scent of burning twigs
a constant neighbour



© Rachel Green 2018