Typing Out Poetry — (Reblog)

I recently read a book called, The Poetry of Strangers, it spoke about the slower process of typing out a poem, key stroke by key stroke. You can check out the book here The Poetry of Strangers Then I was gifted three manual typewriters, that came from an old house, and the tiniest house I’ve […]

Typing Out Poetry —

Haiku: Travails of the Sun

Photo by Wendy van Zyl on Pexels.com

Sunday was special
Laws of men deemed it not so
Which law is righteous?

Copyright Francis Barker 2020

Haiku: In the Moment

Photo by Hernan Pauccara on Pexels.com

Now is time to live
Experiencing each day
Let us learn to surf

Haiku copyright Francis Barker 2020

Poem: Pivoting

Photo by Herman. io on Pexels.com

We ran and ran
laughing headlong into the wind
which swept along the shore,
our arms held out like useless wings,
cheeks flushing with life and youth.

When we stopped
we could see where we’d been,
catching our breath
as the waves washed over our feet.
You held me and squeezed, your eyes
the colour of oceans
cool amid those blushing cheeks.

If moments are captured
and etched upon memory,
this was one such point in time
pivoting on eternity

Copyright Francis Barker 2020

Poem: A Walk by the Sea

a walk by the sea

Without too much thought I took
to the beach,
followed the white lines of
breakers
leading me due north along that
fractured shore.

in no time at all the beach huts were
behind me,
removed by dunes and blurring
summer haze.

then suddenly
she was there
right in front of me, as if she’d
dropped
right out of the ether.

she was squatting down,
blonde haired and
quite young,
her blue-green dress hitched up a touch
showing small bare feet
half buried,
where the dry white sand
gave way to shingle.

I stopped
said hi
but she didn’t even look!
staring into that wide expanse
she could see
clear across the ocean.

looking down I admired her
gold-embroidered dress,
the delicate amber jewellery on
slim fingers,
her long hair matted by
the keen breeze.

then she looked up,
her eyes like cyan gems
and pointed to herself–
‘Elfhild’ I thought she said
sounding sort of German
or Dutch or maybe something
in between
but I didn’t speak a word.

not then.

she didn’t seem lost or in any distress
so I moved on,
giving her a faint wave,
after all, what business was it
of mine?
I carried on steadily
maybe half a mile or so,
felt the wind move round
south to south east.
I could’ve done with a jumper so I
turned back,
got up quite a pace in the end.
frankly I wanted to return
to see if she was alright –
but I saw only footprints
where she had been, where the shingle
gave way to sand.

walking to the shoreline something
caught my eye, a piece of amber
wet and shining.
I picked it up, held it
to the light
and smiled, looking out
to where the waves
were rolling in by the edge of
that German sea

poem and image © copyright Dave Barker 2020