29th October 2026

 

salvation army

the stench of old urine

homeless lads

© Rachel Green October 2026

Broken Furniture

there's a recurring dream

where the house is full of rubbish

and art supplies and woodworking tools

but the child (now thirty) is still two years old

and their toys are everywhere.

The wallpaper is peeling from the ceiling

in the dampness of the attic room

and a hole in the wattle and daub wall

reveals a glassless atrium beyond

overlooking the neighbour's yard

and my ex-ex-ex's father

is scowling at me as usual.

© Rachel Green October 2026

28th October 2026

 

Grave diggers

Opening up an old grave

Second burial

© Rachel Green October 2026

Feel Safe

Rusted machete

Brushed off and varnished

A sweep of acrylic

And some lettering in gold

The story of an object

In thirty words or less

© Rachel Green October 2026

27th October 2026

 

windy bin day

the garden full of rubbish

next door's

© Rachel Green October 2026

Tiny Demons

small paintings

on pieces of rubbish

picked up on the street.

These are the things I feel

as I creep through the passion

of each passing day.

Encapsulated turbulence

masking internal breakdowns

offset by coping mechanisms

of societal masks

© Rachel Green October 2026

26th October 2026

 

pouring rain

disintegrating cardboard boxes

Amazon deliveries

© Rachel Green October 2026

Price of Admission

mummified

in latex and tar

angelic wings blackened

by the passing years

frozen in the simple act

of masturbation

her fingers

still inside

© Rachel Green October 2026

25th October 2026

 

wild and windy

stripping off the leaves

naked sycamores

© Rachel Green October 2026

On the Purchase of a Hat

I bought a hat today.

A woolly hat to save my ears

from being cold.

I'm old

and people smile at me

because I skip and dance along the street

and they think perhaps the village fool

has been released just for a day

and maybe it's the hat

and maybe it's the wide-eyed smile

and maybe it's the wishing of a happy day.

© Rachel Green October 2026

24th October 2026

kitchen clock

with egg on its face

they've boiled dry

© Rachel Green October 2026

Attempting to be Cheerful (V)

bank account

reaches negative numbers

long before the month runs out

but I have apples

and baked beans

and more dog food 

than the month has days remaining.

I have somewhere to live

and love given freely

and the internet is paid for

All we really need is time to write

and time to create

and dogs to keep me warm

© Rachel Green October 2026

 

23rd October 2024

 

trichromatic palette

distributed to wet paper

sudden nebula

© Rachel Green October 2026

Attempting to be Cheerful (IV)

the weight

of two tiny bibles

is almost too much to bear;

all that guilt and suffering

in the name of one book

written centuries ago.

perhaps they'll improve

with a little colour added.

© Rachel Green October 2026