AEQAI Poetry Corner

January 20th, 2013  |  Published in January 2013  |  1 Comment

Poetry by Maxwell Redder


Garden Thought


Lifting the large rock, smooth

with a few dimples like my grandfather’s face,

I found positivity living in the mud under it:

Worm-wiggle squirms, needle-toothed beetles,

and karma-dowsed larva

mingling in harmony.

Paper Mountain


I’d tear down a building

With a hammer and teardrop

And move the piles of rubble

To the ocean with a teacup

For the chance to build a paper mountain

Seen from all of Ohio


Inside, the worlds gold

Illuminates an eerie glow

So night time is never too dark

For the sullen citizens

Lost in the heart of Ohio

No one knows the source of the glow


No one could climb my paper mountain

No one could rub its tender fibers

No one could plant a troubled shrub

No one could pray from the top to a listening God


I’d tear down a paper mountain

By chewing it into sticky pulp

And move the piles of waste

By swallowing it all in a single gulp

For the chance to hear a talking God

Scream for all of Ohio


That gold is a gift like freedom

And using it ill is a snail

Born fast but never seeing

That the past is a burning stair

Pushing our slimy steps

Forward with or without regrets.




Pasture’s Creek


Her friendly eyes glanced toward me

Filling my pale in her pasture’s creek –

As the breath of a million people breathing


Forces the grass to sing and sway

From over the hill to over my way,

As I gaze around and wonder:


What type of man does it take to persuade

A broken woman to rid of her shame?

Should I sit on down and wait?



Her chalky soul smears like coal

And her eyes become a wicked old bowl

Of glances made for winter.


When you know it’s so cold that roses fold,

Their thorns become rubbery gold

Dulled down and afraid to splinter.



Her friendly eyes turned to winter rye,

Protecting all the crops inside

Her body, her blood, and her posture –


Glancing at the pastures snow,

The only thing moving is a mother doe

Spooked from a million people gasping.


(And) the two became one in their fear to run.

Their fear to run is safe, my son,

because there are millions of people breathing.


  1. Jake says:

    January 31st, 2013at 11:36 am(#)

    Your poetry is music to my ears.
    Paper Mountain..How awesome.
    Keep em coming my brother.