Haiku: Waiting For The Sun

man sitting on a concrete bench
Photo by Burst on Pexels.com

Waiting for the sun
January’s blues so deep
A time in limbo

copyright Francis Barker 2020

January Diets Are Not For Me

flat lay photography of vegetable salad on plate
Photo by Ella Olsson on Pexels.com

Come January and a plethora of dietary advice hits us like an Alpine avalanche.

You know the score, you’ve overeaten for a week or more and you dread getting on the scales each morning, right?

Well, I for one don’t really believe in diets. I think you have to mindful all year round, including Christmas. Sure you can eat a bit more, but I often skip breakfast, or have something really light at that time, if I know I’ll be partaking in a feast at night. I might drink more water too.

A week or ten day’s overindulgence could take weeks to put right in terms of losing that weight you’ve rapidly put on. So I simply don’t do it. I am not perfect by any stretch, I just say no to that extra drink, I don’t get drunk and I rarely overeat – even at Christmas.

Ultimately, prevention is so much better than cure. A ‘diet’ for me is for life, not just for January.

copyright Francis Barker 2020

Poem: Birthday

This image was selected as a picture of the we...
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hope arrives at January’s
close, whether in presages
of spring or several feet of
snow. Right now with snowdrops
peeping, the increasing length
of day, it’s all palpable
at last. Then you call me your
rock – I’m very far from being that,
a mere
step, a name on some
useless bifurcation. Outside
it is twelve degrees; bring on
the west wind and
hope of spring

© copyright David F. Barker 2013

Poem ‘I could live with it’

A screenshot of the free game, 0 A.D..
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I could live with it,

I mean an endless sun,
sipping cool pina coladas
in bottlegreen shade,
watching boats and glimmers
on the steady seas,
smiling abroad in January
like it was wilting June

Yes, right now I could go for that,
especially in this reluctant spring,
where complaints about drought
are already here.
Hosepipe bans hit headlines
while I watch daffodils being battered
and bowed by sheets of savage rain.
And I’m pestered
by cats attacking bare feet;
like me, they’re already tired
of watching drops clatter on sills.
Unlike me, they resort
to playing hide and seek,
upstairs and then down—
flying all around.
I’m sure they think it’s me
with the weather remote
and today I wish it was

poem © copyright df barker 2012