portrait
of the former artist
as a lawn rake
© Rachel Green July 2026
Michael Moore
Michael (never Mike)
was probably the best carver I've ever met;
though he was just seventeen
he had innate talent;
drawing to stone
he was the Michelangelo
of Redditch college
and a beautiful young man
with the most perfect skin
I've ever peeled off.
© Rachel Green July 2026
weight gain
only half a pound
still a kicker
© Rachel Green July 2026
free range eggs
often misleading
my general go-to boxed eggs
claim free range but they're not:
the number stamped on them is 2
which means barn raised
with a peephole to the outside.
1 means free range but penned in
and 0 is proper back garden free range.
lets not talk about 3
because that's 'enhanced cage'
meaning that's a perch
in a cage the size of an i-pad
and should be banned in England.
© Rachel Green July 2026
dieting
breaking one habit at a time.
Cheese...bread...
© Rachel Green July 2026
five years, I wasted at art school;
not because it was art school
but because I had access
to free, all-day life models
and I could have been an awful lot better
than I am now.
My advice to artists:
draw the figure; every chance you get
and rejoice.
© Rachel Green July 2026
fat free yoghurt
With a spoonful of red jam
stomach ache
© Rachel Green July 2026
I’m offered a free costume
to try out and review
an adult pirate's costume.
It might be okay for kids
to dress up as the bad guys:
I've seen young Darth Vaders,
vampires, werewolves;
supervillains were the rage when I was a kid:
Harley Quinn, The Joker and so on,
but as an adult? No.
There's nothing romantic about pirates:
bloodthirsty bastards who would cut your throat
for the small change in your pocket.
If I wanted to be a pirate
I'd just wait outside Sainsburys
and stab the first person with a full trolley
and take off in their Volvo estate.
© Rachel Green July 2026
morning rain
unnoticed and brief
gone with the sun
© Rachel Green July 2026
Fly Trap
my old one died;
the fan sucking in the nightcrawlers;
the gnats and mosquitoes--
clattering to wake the dead.
thus another
this one cheap enough
but without the sucking fan
and woke me in the night
with BANG! CRACKLE! HISS! BANG!
and the stink of burning carapace
until the dogs ran in terror
while I thought the local substation had exploded
and the house would catch fire.
I sent it back. Please
may I have a refund?
© Rachel Green July 2026
loud crackles
and the stink of burning insect
terrified dogs
© Rachel Green July 2026
Poison Garden
I still grow nightshade;
hemlock, monk's hood --
though my angel toadstools never grew
and I pull out the ivy before the dogs lie.
My cuckoo pints are spreading slowly
ladies in the spring, red shirted soldiers in the autumn
and my scattered seeds of foxgloves
are beloved by the bees.
© Rachel Green July 2026
grassy field
mown by council tractor
slaughtered mice
© Rachel Green July 2026
Trumpet Count
one for the lesions
two for the pain
three to lose a life
four to gain.
five for hunger
six for worth
seven for a charnel house
dug from the earth.
eight for the righteous
nine for the proud
ten for the penitent
lost in the crowd.
© Rachel Green July 2026
