I hang out the washing,
impatiently pegging
to save time.
Then I sit, fritter and daydream,
watching the wind toss the duvet
of my sleepless night,
pillow cases bellow in panic attack,
before the sudden lashing rain
insists I scamper outside.
Elements changing
Thrashing meandering thoughts
Nature’s clue unsaid
Copyright Francis Barker 2020
Copyright Francis Barker 2020
Where do I belong?
I feel like an imposter
My life was given
Copyright Francis Barker 2020
The mime artist confronts me,
lithe and contorting,
nuancing as best she can
with her eyes.
Masked and distanced,
her gestures rage out loud
and proud,
yet I do not understand,
I can’t even take her hand
to console, to reassure;
so now she’s rubbing her eyes
with feigned clenched fists
but the sorrow doesn’t translate;
such sobbing falls on deaf ears,
yet it screams to my soul:
She’s in her world, I’m in mine,
dimensions apart,
both of us born again infants
deprived of facial cues.
Copyright Francis Barker 2020
*dVerse: Let your words ring out. I taken a ‘left field’ approach.
I saw and believed
I heard the word and was saved
It was the wrong guy
Copyright Francis Barker 2020
