Poem ‘Ways Out’

Ways Out

During those darker days
while Dad dug the earth,
I would stand with him
and dream of the sky,
that it might send an angel
in a shining silver disk
to whisk me away
to some fantastic world,
as far away as possible
from that featureless place

Once my dreams were done
each mournful Sunday night,
that was when I’d watch him
sitting hunched before
his old bespoke radios,
yellow fingers twisting knobs
while turning his ear
to strange sideband sounds,
smirking to Southern drawl charm
engaging cool Transvaal

I knew it was his way out,
released and briefly lost
among the wild waves,
bringing some colour to his world
before I’d hear the clock wind up,
the curtains being drawn

poem and image Β© copyright df barker 2012

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57 comments

  1. Ina · June 7, 2012

    Hi David, this must be your best one so far, it is stunning, the nostalgia and sadness. I love the painting, the figure seems lifted from the background.

    Your father’s escape, you describe so well.
    Those wireless sounds, I remember them and the spooky voices, we got Russian, you could hear Transvaal… wow πŸ™‚

    Like

  2. LadyBlueRose's Thoughts Into Words · June 7, 2012

    beautiful art that magickally seeps your thoughts into words
    this ….it is wonderful Dave!
    Take Care
    maryrose

    Like

  3. claudia · June 7, 2012

    very cool…could almost see him, sitting in front of that radio, turning knobs, lost in the wild waves…each of us needs a way out of daily routine..sometimes those escapes are far too short though..

    Like

  4. susanjanejones · June 7, 2012

    Nostalgic, lovely.

    Like

  5. Soma Mukherjee · June 7, 2012

    the beauty,the painting and the poem..each holding its own and playing shadow to other
    loved it πŸ™‚

    Like

  6. shanyns · June 7, 2012

    Very cool…love the two points of view in each stanza.

    Like

  7. Victoria C. Slotto · June 7, 2012

    Well, David, I tried to click like more than once and it unliked it (always wanted to try, though). I don’t know which I love most–the painting or the poem. Wish I had time to pull out my paints. Thanks for this one.

    Like

  8. brian miller · June 7, 2012

    very cool….i had similar dreams of other worlds….your dad at the radio gave me two thoughts…one was listening to star wars on the radio as a kid because that fuelded those dreams…and my uncle having a ham radio that was most fascinating as well to hear him talk to others around the world…

    Like

  9. J Matthew Waters · June 7, 2012

    your painting and words are very inspiring. thank you so much.

    Like

  10. Colline · June 7, 2012

    I love the painting.

    Like

  11. Chazinator · June 7, 2012

    Such desolation in our lives brings desire fir transcendence. I too understand the desire to be whisked away by flying saucers tomunseen places and other worlds. Your father’s radio listening on shortwave(?) is familiar, as well, that strange fascination with distant voices that Paranormal investigators say might even carry the voices of ghosts! Your piem is excellent in how it draws this picture of estrangment, despair, and desire for transcendence. The ending is somewhat sinister, evoking avsense of secrets untold.

    Like

  12. pandamoniumcat · June 7, 2012

    This is terrific… I really enjoyed this and tunning out to another world…perfect!

    Like

  13. Emma · June 8, 2012

    What a mood you’ve set with this poem, David! And you’ve set it up masterfully with these first two lines:

    During those darker days
    while Dad dug the earth,

    which for me set the tone for the piece and the alliteration here also, with all of the ‘d’ sounds adds to that feeling of darkness. I do love when you pair your poems with your painting also, it adds another dimension to the work…this one is fantastic.

    Like

  14. henryclemmons · June 8, 2012

    Ah yes, I’ve seen radios like these as a child at a friends house. We always hoped some outerspaceman would come on and talk to us. Sometimes another voice with another langauge would come on and we would get wide-eyed and hide. I luved your poem. You have great skill. A true poet.

    Like

  15. magsx2 · June 8, 2012

    Hi,
    A beautiful poem. πŸ™‚

    Like

  16. lscotthoughts · June 8, 2012

    Beautiful imagery of watching our parents age and your painting is just lovely, too, David~

    Like

  17. meiro · June 8, 2012

    Love the painting too…..gorgeous.

    warm wishes.

    Like

  18. Marissa · June 8, 2012

    Lovely poem and Vividly beautiful art!

    Like

  19. Zellie M. Quinn · June 8, 2012

    Beautifully written!

    Like

  20. hobgoblin2011 · June 8, 2012

    Very nice. Such a great way to describe those special getaways one can seem to find, they are like different worlds. Thanks

    Like

  21. David King · June 8, 2012

    This is super stuff, those first few lines setting the scene are perfectly done and had me wanting more – and more. Great work.

    Like

  22. David King · June 8, 2012

    P.S. I’m mad about the watercolour, too. What a bonus!

    Like

  23. soulsongsharonlee · June 8, 2012

    Very rich in poignant texture… Thank you.

    Like

  24. Laurie Kolp · June 8, 2012

    I really enjoyed this (especially 1st stanza) and the radio connection to aliens…

    Like

  25. tashtoo · June 8, 2012

    Amazing take on escaping the world. Out of this world write made even better by the fantastic art!

    Like

  26. darkjade68 · June 8, 2012

    Hey, I just wanted to Thank You for Following “The Dark Globe”… It’s June Follower Appreciation Month over there, you should Check it out

    DarkJade-

    Like

  27. The Course of Our Seasons · June 8, 2012

    A thoughtful portrait and remembrance – as a child,Sunday evenings always seemed out of the ordinary – this reminding me of those feelings. K

    Like

  28. Mama Zen · June 8, 2012

    Incredible sense of loneliness to this. Beautifully done.

    Like

  29. Three Well Beings · June 9, 2012

    I love the child observing the parent. A wonderful theme of imagination and escape. The accompanying painting is lovely, too! Debra

    Like

  30. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thank you so much Debra!

    Like

  31. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thanks so much for this!

    Like

  32. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Kathleen, thank you!!!

    Like

  33. dfb · June 9, 2012

    I thank you, Tashtoo!

    Like

  34. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thanks very much Laurie!

    Like

  35. dfb · June 9, 2012

    I thank you and am grateful.

    Like

  36. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thanks very much David!

    Like

  37. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thank you so much, I’m grateful to you!

    Like

  38. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thanks very much Victoria!

    Like

  39. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thanks very much Brian!!!

    Like

  40. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thanks very much J!

    Like

  41. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thank you very much, I appreciate it!!!

    Like

  42. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thank you very much!!!!!

    Like

  43. dfb · June 9, 2012

    I thank you so much, I am grateful!!!

    Like

  44. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Emma, once again, thank you so much! I am getting a little behind in looking at other blogs at the moment but will try to catch up soon.

    Like

  45. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thank you Henry, I’m grateful!

    Like

  46. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thanks very much Lauren!

    Like

  47. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thank you so much Soma!

    Like

  48. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thank you Meiro!

    Like

  49. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thank you so much Marissa!

    Like

  50. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thank you very much Ina!

    Like

  51. dfb · June 9, 2012

    Thank you very much MR!

    Like

  52. Betty Hayes Albright · June 11, 2012

    Another great poem, David, that invokes such a vivid image!

    Like

  53. timotheous128 · June 11, 2012

    David, this is stunning! The art, the words, the memories – everything! Excellent work, my friend. πŸ™‚

    Like

  54. dfb · June 12, 2012

    Thank you so much for this!!!

    Like

  55. sevilleestatesflyer · June 12, 2012

    I am reminded of my great-grandfather who spent much of his youth and adult years in the coal mines of southern Indiana.He did develop and succumbed to Black Lung .The work was fraught with danger and total disregard for safety was the motto of the company.

    Like

  56. bardessdmdenton · June 17, 2012

    Love this painting…the colors…the texture…the contrasts of the dark figure. And the poem seamlessly takes us from fantasy to reality…in its remembering. A beautiful post in all ways!

    Like

  57. brokenpenwriter · June 18, 2012

    excellent, stunning visuals – emotive

    Like

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