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Charles Redner's Writings

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Poem
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Dec.21.2011
Long-a-Coming
My relative was the organist for the Holy Trinity Episcopal Church in Philadelphia, when in 1868, the pastor asked him to write the music for his poem from an earlier trip to the Holy Land. Here, I record the events that transpired: Birth of a Christmas Carol by Charles Redner For Phillips Brooks and Lewis H. Redner Together as a single voice children sing a hymn...
Poem
Sep.11.2011
Long-a-Coming
The Sky Took Back the Space the Towers Borrowed September 11, 2001—Berlin, New Jersey The sky took back the space the towers borrowed When the destructive forces rendered them unstable. Three thousand souls ascended the holy rubble While a nation looked on in horror and in sorrow. Millions ’round the world stood stunned and shaken As...
Poem
Painting by Judith redner
Nov.05.2010
Guest AppraiserBy Charles Redner  My wife’s painting of a battered red truck proudly hangs in her art society’s gallery where a class, currently in session, is painting a female model.   The artists appear at ease, checking proportions, brushes at arm’s length, splashing moistened pigments on canvas. This is their norm.   But oh, so new to me. I shift my eyes...
Poem
Long-A-coming
Aug.04.2010
Long-a-Coming
Cheated on my wife yesterday. Short changed my employer too. It wasn’t the first time either. Left work early, headed straight for a rendezvous.  The motor lodge perfectly situated midway between office and home. Pulled into the lot, backed directly in front of room one-twenty hiding my tag from street-side eyes. I’m experienced at this.  Looked up, mirrored the...
Poem
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Jul.28.2010
Elvis, the Beatles, and Joe Cocker                           for Sonny Cohen                       by Charles Redner Sonny, a large man who looked down on six-footers, spotted me from a block away. Stood still, teeth flashing like a dozen diamonds as I rapidly closed the distance between us.    When I reached the near-giant his mammoth arms engulfed then...
Poem
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Jul.24.2010
Theft   I steal a word today from an authentic poet and playwright. Normally, honest as well as truthful, I confiscate it concomitantly as you read this confession. Here, lifted right from his copy-protected work, laboring like a magician or illusionist, you will not perceive the theft. And no, the poet will not be aware of my vile act as he has already died,...
Poem
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Jul.15.2010
Cabin 20
May I have the pleasure? May I have the pleasure, of killing the last vampire or will the horrid, hordes slay us first?   When I am King, all in the realm will carry, at hand, freshly bottled Holy water, mallet with wooden stake, and a Pope-blessed crucifix.   When I am King, Buffy and True Blood will be banished, along with novels coddling blood-sucking bats....