THE COUNTS' GRANDCHILD

Antique box smelled musty
was locked by old style key,
wood of mahogany,
hiding treasures of past
secrets waiting for me.
Had to break it open,
fabulous fortunes were
mine for the taking and
enclosed in large box left
by my great grandfather.

With my hammer I smashed
destroying clasp that held
dreams of life left behind.
Pulled open the box and
looked in shock at life's lies.
Breathe deeply the air from
filthy empty casket.
Slam it shut quickly as
my sinuses fulled with death.
It was the home of sprite,
had not planed meeting was
not ready for it yet.

By Victor Reiner

Nice and impressive work. Great colors.

Ooh Err!....

I'll stay on Terra Firma, if you don't mind!..

Nice creation pal..

Now this is really great Vic, really like the way the bubble really brings out the beauty of the sky and silhouettes

Dramatic & surreal combination with the contrasts & manipulation. Would like to see the original photo.

**

Intersting effects in your artwork, Vic, very nice opposites between the sky of fire and the silhouettes.

Confused about clean air


Children with inhaler
air thick with smut,
eyes tearing from
dirty gas burning
and government regulation
written by luck.
Problems for many years,
solution already found,
still we die as bureaucrats cry,
"WE ARE LOST, TURNING AND SPINNING AROUND."
Environmental Protection Agency,
here to save the day-
BUT HOW?
With more confusion, paper delusion and
a prayer along the way.

As large corporations were planing
to live upto mandated regulations
our own government said "STOP!
Don't worry if you can not. There is no penality anymore
if your so called plans flop...

Thank you EPA Administrator, Carol Browner,
from a parent whose son has a inhaler..

Wrote this when Bill Clinton was president. Published in Milford Citizen and New Haven Register .

Victor Reiner

Most poems you read by me have been published.