Give me the spring,
its light and hope,
or just some freshness to the air
and your uplifting smile.
We shall laugh and dance
in an April shower,
watch the sunrise together
by the empty bracing shore
You can tell me when it’s gone,
this all consuming darkness,
as the burgeoning sun
circles north to bless us
copyright Francis Barker 2020
copyright Francis Barker 2019
Bede
It wasn’t at Jarrow where I sensed you
but on Bamburgh’s raging shore,
among the seaweed and razor shells
on gull peppered sands,
its castle brooding behind me
like a huge chiseled tomb.
North waves were scrambling,
spilling memories of guttural voices
disguised in flushing sound;
cries of songs, harps and old tales lost,
fragments I could almost hear
when I turned my head into the wind.
And who was the black figure
bent against the breeze,
absorbing sharp light
on that blinding beach?
I struggled through the dunes,
the little islands of sparse grass
and pygmy flowers —
but you were gone,
extant only in memory,
my boundless imagination,
and in your books
which carry me through centuries
on a primal wave,
each time I read your words
Poem and image © copyright df barker 2012
Haikus— ‘Changes’
step back little life
faces change though streets remain
cross with no regrets
spring’s hushed voice in trees
snow lingers on in furrows
earth unbends to light
poems and photograph © copyright dfbarker 2012
Silent Wings
Looking up into darkness
he asks if that smudge is Andromeda.
She thinks it may be.
He’s heard its light takes
two million years to reach his eyes,
stories on swift silent wings;
galaxies so far away,
so near at hand
like froth spinning round
in her coffee cup.
‘I’ll go there one day,’ he says
‘Why not go right now?’
she asks – ‘in your mind!’
He looks up once again
his mind big like the light-filled sky,
recalling her story of Horus
crossing millions of years
© copyright David Francis Barker 2011
*illustration done wholly digitally
Ciscography 