One of my patrons recently submitted a "poetry challenge" to a poetry group on the web. http://www.writers-bbs.com/  The challenge was to take one of my paintings and write a poem about it.  The "challenge" created quite some great poems and some interesting critiques of my paintings.  Not all of the criticism was positive, but I thought that some of you, who are my friends and patrons, might get a kick out of reading them.  (Please forgive my egocentric behavior!)

Click on images to enlarge them.
kenney mencher
poems inspired by some of the paintings
kmencher@ohlone.edu

 

Closet, oil on canvas 36x48"
 Closet
Artist Guy
Tom, I’ve tried very hard to select clothes that don’t match yours.
Yes, I hated all those years growing up with the same outfits.
So you decided you liked brown, I went with blue.
Even though I really like brown too.
What’s that?  No clown, those are not my blouses.
I’m holding them for a friend; I mean, she left them behind.
Accident.
She just forgot them Tom.
I don’t know, women forget sometimes.
Yes, two or three of them, what’s the big deal?
Yes those are her pumps too, put them back in the corner, will you?
So she has big feet.  I never noticed.


 
Yeah, I guess they’re nice.  I mean she likes to dress nice.
Yes I think they look good on her.
Well, yes, she’s sort of a big girl.
Yeah, she kinda… likes to wear brown.
I don’t remember.  I mean, no!  I don’t know where she buys them!
…What?
Really?
How long?
Shit!


Well, switch to blue, dammit!


Reference Desk, oil on canvas 48"x60"
Click on images to enlarge them.

poem originally posted at
http://www.writers-bbs.com/

 At the Reference Desk
Susan Jaffer

Ma’am?
Um...ma’am, it’s hard to say
this in just the right way.
That is, it would never be my intention
to cavalierly make mention
of something that might offend,
creating a rift I couldn’t mend.
Do you know what I mean?

No? Well, let me start again.
Um...ma’am…You see...the way it is,
I approached your desk about a quiz
I’m trying to write for my Tuesday class,
but then I noticed your proudly displayed... um…

 Ma’am? I’m an expert in my field.
I’ve garnered more respect than Dangerfield (heh-heh),
so please don’t think what I’m about to say
is impure or self-serving in any way.

Oh crap—now I’m in over my head
with all this stupid stuff I’ve said.
Let me just come out and say it,
and dispense with this endless need to weigh it.

Ahem! Ma’am, I’m a doctor. An orthopedic surgeon.
And seeing you, I felt this urgent
need to ask about something that’s not the norm:
It’s your legs. When did they deform?
Here’s my card; don’t hesitate to call
if you feel I can help in any way at all. 
Don’t panic—I think it’s quite a safe bet
they simply need to be reset.


 
 

Scooby Snack, oil on wood 10x16"

poem originally posted at
http://www.writers-bbs.com/

 Furries

I asked you here tonight to help me free
the animal that lurks inside of me
it’s something that I’ve hidden for so long
in fear you’d think my furriness was wrong

But when you saw me in my splendor true
a life-sized version of Lord Scooby Doo
your first act was not to leave my house
but to oh-so-slowly take off your silk blouse

 How thankful I am that I took this chance
to be my own true self in our romance
And in case you feel a certain urge yourself
I’ve a Lassie suit up here upon the shelf

But perhaps it’s better if I let you be
the silky-skinned half-naked girl I see
before me, now recumbent on the bed
Ah, to what joys my honesty has led!

 


 
 
 

Los Angeles, oil on canvas 36x36"

poem originally posted at
http://www.writers-bbs.com/

 The Psalmist
Doug Hoffman

Sun-blessed
Thou child of light
Sin-eater
I bask in your youthful fire

Thy noble loins have cheered me
Filled me with renewed force
Thou hast anointed me with fragrant oils,
Rubbed away my old cares

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I shall fear no evil
For thou art with me
And the death is but little


 
 
 

Double Image, 18x27" oil on canvas

poem originally posted at
http://www.writers-bbs.com/

 Reflections In The Mirror
.
Reflections in the mirror
What is it that I see
Is it the image that I portray
For all the world to see
.
The magic in the mirror
Shows the man inside
All my inner demons
Were hate and love abides
.
I start the day at my reflection
Making everything just right
Pushing back the inner me
So the world wont see the blight
.		 With a woman on my arm
To complete my ongoing charade
To cover up the man in me
That has long since been decayed
.
But the magic in the mirror
Shows me who I am
The one aching to be released
And stop this foolish sham

 


 
 
 

Reference Desk, oil on canvas 48"x60"
Click on images to enlarge them.

poem originally posted at
http://www.writers-bbs.com/

 Reference Desk
Josh

Hat in hand, heels held tight
I'm at your mercy as I wait for your report.
Will you tell me the book came back too late?
It did.
Will you say I owe you a buck or two?
I do.
Tell me one or other, or as I prefer
Thrill me with both at once.
That way I'll have no choice but to reach into
my trouser pocket, place my wallet on your desk,
fiddle for the bills and wish
you'd look into my eyes.

 Students in the room have melted
in dark corner.
Your tight bunned hair falls like
swirl of golden wave on wave.
Before my eyes, you turn
goddess of fast desire,
divest sallow cheeks,
reduce gray cardigan scratchy skirt to
rolled down nylons, long red chemise,
splay your legs and squirm into a lotus of lust.

Mr. Richards. Mr. Richards,
You owe two dollars on the past due book.

So we're both back where we started,
Aren't we, darlin'?


 
 
 

Reference Desk, oil on canvas 48"x60"
Click on images to enlarge them.

poem originally posted at
http://www.writers-bbs.com/

 Grinding 
Jarna H Bodown

I stand with eyes lowered, lest I 
be chastised for impiety. Malice expects 
the river bed to be known for dreaming 
the coming wet. Where no wash or foam
or rocks full of grit try the prentice
who will till the verbal plot—-a sin for which she 
is sure to go to hell, and supplicate. The marble
is rock, "I'm harder than before"
you say in settling; and finding level ground--
become a calloused carbuncle.