poems by Rudolf Kurt Penner

Church Fondler

There he am, planning his attack;
the subtlist attack ever known to man,
the piano ––
will play a part
the fanatic molester will go down,
in a heap of flames
in front of everyone he touched the girl

I looked up sexual fondling on the net
this position was not found
there is no mention of it:
touching a 14-year old girl’s waist
and moving both hands up and down
while comforting her about an issue

I watch and while I’m watching,
I can’t believe this is happening
I think: you think you’re getting away with this, but you’re not.

Was she his granddaughter, niece, or church member’s daughter

so clever, not to touch her breasts
but sliding ever so close
same latitude

and smugly suppressing his smile

how long have you been doing this, buddy
not touching breasts or bums or cunts

this poem is owned and operated by Rudolf Penner
©2019 Rudolf Penner

May 12, 2019 Posted by | girls and trees; flowers and bees, social commentary | , , , | Leave a comment

The Girl That Looked Like Julia Roberts

There was a girl that looked like
Julia Roberts, in the line-up
at the Hindoo temple, waiting
with her friends, same ski slope
nose, with a jump
end this note
and bother with tying up loose ends
in your sewing
creme-coloured stripes in your
fingernails aglow
with song and with summer-
sweet nectar dripping
down your cheek
a side of the pink (…to get the full poem contact me)

© 2012

February 29, 2012 Posted by | about artists/poets, All Poems, food, girls and trees; flowers and bees | 1 Comment

beautiful image on Flikr.com

this image appeared in my blog while I was reviewing the section: girls and trees; flowers and bees

January 4, 2010 Posted by | Blog Posts & Blogs I Like, external links, girls and trees; flowers and bees | Leave a comment

Crow’s Feather

She went hunting for Crow
long dark feathers are hard to find –
– They just come to you
Like a Thunderbird
At Crow’snest Pass she fell and broke her knee
It was just like her to look in unlikely places
Where the snow is hard
The ice on their tips bending them down to the earth
Like the larger bird who really wants to meet us
– tell us stories as Answers; give us truth myths
There are no fences (out) in the wilds of Canada
but many neighbouring trees
and straggling animals
– They just come to you
Like a wandering Walking Stick
full of carved patrons
the ice on the tips of their fur
hiding them like camouflage
like a Bloodhound she walked
casting her eyes about for the wing
if memories caught up with their own branches
passing through cold streams
and cliff-ends talking – Old Legends
perched on a Ledge – a Cougar
jutting out like a refined piece of antique jewellry
wondering about these memory-like shapes of
black feathery shapes floating down past
like a brother’s broken promise
poor grasshoppers just begging for attention
The softer beds in the forest where one hears everything
After sleep comes the break of day
And the narrative begins again, of how she found
the feather.

(optional reading: 4th to last line, change beds to bells)

December 22, 2009 Posted by | All Poems, girls and trees; flowers and bees, Poems for Antiquity | 1 Comment

(See Sandor sign)

See Sandor sign
his new painting sings of wine
betrothals to Nature
the walls of the Old Garden
crumpling, overgrowing themselves with leavy trees
the green leaves drooping over ochre
the moist branches draping lower portions of the sky
twelve baskets hanging form the widest virtues
the sinewous worms stretching from their ground
earth feelers ,  gummy unfettered naturals
letting themselves be brick red and the
flowers of the sun, casting their seeds to
the breeze of gentle summer
The Northern Sampson sees clearly, his mountains
a brilliant sapphire ,  blue as the snows on Kilimanjaro
a coyote hunting in the orchard, the apple
he took too peachy red
For the painting grows as the garden glows
The adventure of painting never finished
The woman sitting on the natural wall
diffused earth ochres her bare feet
motioned by the wind
Her smooth back is a rest
the greyest panther ever walked calm & wild
towards her circumlocution
the apprentice ,  sits and stares at the scene

© 1995  Rudolf Penner

November 13, 2007 Posted by | about artists/poets, All Poems, girls and trees; flowers and bees | Leave a comment