Haiku #42

The plough crows follow
In furrow across fields
Till seasons to sow

Copyright Francis 2021

‘Rain’ a Poem

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Contemplate the rain, this fleeting season,
changes I can do nothing about.
Sitting, watching, listening; the hanging drops
on vacant washing lines and leaves,
all testimony to nature,
that the laws of men may come and go,
yet eternal truths stand starkly before us:
Our choice to ignore.
The harder I try the less I get in return.
But the gentle rush of rain brings it back,
the raucous calls of crows
sitting in out in shedding trees;
the clutter of my mind
stands between what is me
and my self.

Copyright Francis Barker 2020

Poem: Crows

birds black crow
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The crows are gathering,
swooping with impunity.
They joust amongst themselves, 
invirtuous caws signalling
our entry into autumn
when trumpets may blow
some strange advent in the sky.
They seem happy, as if
Imperial Rome had fallen again,
a feast to be had. Fast
and feast are opposites – yet
so nearly the same

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Poem: ‘Dark’

Dark

Rook on the roadside straight ahead
you step aside casually
only just avoid my wheels.
Is that why I smile at the mirror
see you promptly step back
to continue to pick and prod
and pull at roadkill entrails
some straitjacket driver provides?
Like the crow, the raven, the jackdaw—
few are as bright as you, so dark
in colour and reputation

copyright Leofwine Tanner 2019

New Poem: ‘Windows’

Windows

we admire the window’s
fine proportions
giving out
onto bare trees
a grey sky
those pervading
stillnesses of space

and the coffee
is good and strong
good enough to take black
to sit back with
and to savour

and listen
can you hear the
crows calling?
they’re telling of
eastern winds
bringing on the winter
which arrives tomorrow

but against
this crackling fire
our comfort is fixed
by your hand in mine

© copyright David Francis Barker 2011