Haiku: Harbour of Pearls



An infamous date
A jewelled harbor in flames –
like the twisted world

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Haiku: Santa

shallow focus photo of crystal ball on person s hand

Photo by VisionPic .net on Pexels.com

O Saint Nicholas
How come you are Santa Claus?
Smiles for the children

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Poem: The Last Blog

grayscale photo of explosion on the beach

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

If this were the last blog
what would I say?
How many would read
these forlorn final words?
Most would be caught up in panic,
watching their stock disappear,
their homes wash away,
or hell’s mushroom clouds
pervade the highest heaven.

If you could,
most would gather family,

maybe friends – and hold them close,
the internet only recently gone
but like a distant irrelevance now.
Yet still I am here, pen in hand,
finger on keyboard
in pathetic pretence that someone out there
might read these words

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Haiku: Past in Present

lion lying on ground

Photo by Frans Van Heerden on Pexels.com

Fortune favours us.
The brave who came before me.
Their blood overcomes.

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Haiku: Turn of the Year

macro shot photography of tea candles

Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

The brighter the lights
so the darker it becomes
All hail the sunshine!

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Poem: Pretence


The big political guns are out.
It’s left versus right,
red stands up to blue,
the elephant against the donkey.
Entertainment for you, my friend,
at the bar munching on peanuts
and sipping weak beer.
I watch your blank eyes stare,
drooping jowls shudder with each bite
as the TV screen morphs into sporting mode.
It’s defence against offence,
the clash of grid iron titans,
all steam and bluster
like the wrestling ring.
And still you sit transfixed,
a bulldog chewing his bone.
I hand over a bill worth nothing
and exit this world of pretence

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Poem: Advent

art blur bright burn

Photo by George Becker on Pexels.com

The most wonderful time of the year,
or so they say.
To the world weary mind the days
are cold and grey;
where childhood’s a distant dream
of hope and love,
an imagination brought alive
simply looking above.
So don’t say those unfair words
like humbug to me,
I just yearn for spring’s return,
it’s my simple plea

copyright Francis Barker 2019