Thought Mash: Thought Mash, #1

By Ren Randlett

Former teacher and published author expanding collection of poems. There is always more to write about. Ren Randlett grew up in Upstate NY, lived many years there, is a proud mama of a son, and survived inoperable cancer, moved across the country, and then to the other side again!  Now hanging with the big birds and gators in North Florida.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ren Randlett
• Release date: Feb 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215033333

Ren Randlett

I didn't exactly win the health lottery but I am a writer originally from Upstate NY. I have survived inoperable cancer, have one son, lived in the desert for twelve years where I met my husband Brad. I love free verse poetry, which is what this book is. Any rhyme inside is purely coincidental along with any alliteration. 

Book preview

Contents

Anxiety

Water Oak

Loneliness

Angurt

Ghost

Tech Zombies

Strike

Stonewaller

Pointer

Erased

Bitter Wind

Tribe

Apology Accepted

Old Man

Happy Un-Thanksgiving

Lillian

Broken Heart

Twelve Years

Stalker

Done

Boutique Ceramic Blue

No Context

Goodbye or...

Disappear

Away From Home

Used To

Nectar

I Let You

My Silence

I Don’t Take Drugs But...

Karen

Anxiety

A doctor's office.

A long wait.

Skeptical eyes.

Examine the room.

Feel the mood.

Watch others.

Be-aware.

What did they touch?

Who did they speak with?

Were they talking about you?

Oh no! I have to get up and walk,

Walk in front of all these people!

Eventually I am away to another room.

Be-aware.

Who will walk next through the door?

Will they knock or just come in?

There are voices outside the room.

Are they talking about you?

Ah, finally the doctor.

Be-aware.

Water Oak

The old split oak had once been whole.

Time had ravaged her until she was a pair of

Mangled oaks.

Only a thin veil of air between each side passed a steady stream of carpenter ants making their daily forage of wood.

First the right side of this Big Miss

Was gone.

A failure to severe weather

The ant-chewed right side of the tree lay woefully

upon a white Ford pickup leaving her signature

Deep in its once pristine roof.

Soon a small army of men

Dressed in orange vests,

Descended like chainsaw-

Bearing vultures to erase

Her failure.

Before long, any sign of her

Was removed as if the remaining

Left half of the tree looked even remotely normal,

but she too would fall.

Empty space. 

Loneliness

Brackish tears slip quietly,

From age & pain worn eyes

Crinkled from sun & smiles,

Each adding to the little lonely

Teardrop puddle on the table

That holds up the elbows,

Supporting a graying head.

Step away... Find a quiet space–

And sort through the torment

That consumes you from the inside out,

tearing at your soul

Reshaping your innocent heart

Making you whole again and

Filling you once again with joy.

You mean something, don't you?

But to whom? Or do you?

Do you feel inconsequential?

An afterthought to