
Standing sentinel
With a given narrative
Who would believe it?
Copyright Francis Barker 2020

It’s been trick or treat all year,
though no one’s been to my door.
News is a petulant child
running loose on the airwaves,
heavy on the trick,
sparse on the treat;
scare stories to chill the hearts
of the most level minded souls.
My curtains remain open,
I’m just willing them to knock,
though I cannot pass out candy.
This year have my TV,
a year’s subscription if you life —
so long as you take it away.
Copyright Francis Barker 2020

Footprints along the strand
stretching off to nowhere
A beach all my own
save for curious gulls
eyeing from Hesperides’ skies.
Kernow was never so lush
or windswept; are they bells
pealing on the breeze, like
lost Lyonesse beckoning
to this broken soul?
Maybe heartless time is melting,
melding; I run and run
into the gelid ocean, the two
once twain — now consumed
Copyright Francis Barker 2020

Patterns of nature
Accepting recycled life
Change is beautiful
Copyright Francis Barker 2020

Blow cold winds of truth
The new dawn cannot be stopped
Open eyes will see
Copyright Francis Barker 2020