Giving Thanks To A Chicken

I was cooking a chicken, observing what was left of it's features and wrote this poem.

(Click on highlighted texts for photograph and video)

Looking at your dismembered body in the stew pot
I see the place your head had been
and think of your tortured soul.

Bread and wine have done nothing for me;
but your flesh gives me life.
I take it, but forgive me, I didn't know what I was doing.
Amen.



Text and photograph Copyright 2009 by David H. Roche, Videos from you tube.

Transience

Mountains disappear
behind a scrim of mist;
I am also disappearing
but no more or less
than mountains dissolved by rain.





Photograph and Poem Copyright 2009 By David H. Roche

The Transcendental Sensuality of the Orange

(click on the highlighted texts and photograph)



Ice cold from the fridge I hold you
and my hunger rises with my desire
as your perfumed flesh
opens to me

I have need for discipline
while I peel you
disclosing what I crave.

If I give in quickly
my haste will spoil the feast you offer.
Instead I linger, gazing,
anticipating your sweet juices.

This poem is inspired by the Song of Songs in the bible.

This poem is the product of David H. Roche. It is private property. You are allowed only to look at it and form your own conclusions.

Summer Rain

(Click on Photographs to enlarge them.)

Without warning wild winds and black scud
replaced serene blue sultry skies
violently thrashing the maple by the porch.












Icy rain stung, pelting the dry earth
before passing as quickly as it appeared
leaving a bouquet of pungent, funky, earthy scents
rising from the grassless dust



worn bare by Boo in summer vigils
waiting for rabbits to venture
from the hedgerow.


Photographs and text Copyright 2009 by David H. Roche