By Andrew R. Duckworth
I remember films that were creative,
Films that spoke to the soul
While not dropping didactic anvils
More suited for the curbside
On trash takeout day
Than anywhere near the mind.
The theaters are filled with those,
The creative juices of cinema slowed
Like molasses making its way
Down a narrow pipe.
But that molasses dripped it’s way
To television,
Dripped into the fragile minds
Of broken souls feeling left behind
By a sorry world of those unkind.
That molasses a venom,
Stronger than any viper’s.
The fangs clutched long ago,
Injecting in the brain
That sinister hatred that ruins all.
I think I would rather focus
On the tomato plants outside
Than the drivel seeping
From an activist actor’s mouth.
At least then, at least then,
I am focused on growth.
Poetry of Andrew Ryan Duckworth 
Enjoy reading your work . I always knew you were a talented boy . Now I read your talent . Waiting on the illustrations to follow . 🧡
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I greatly appreciate your kind words. Perhaps some day I will attach some illustrations to my work. I really like to attach photographs though, particularly in my work where nature serves as a key theme.
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