Poem: Origins

photo of person holding a bible
Photo by Luis Quintero on Pexels.com

From the outset the die was cast;
a forgetting of old worlds,
the reshaping of the new – breached in the garden.
The fuse and fire have ignited the world
and it must run its perilous course,
while Adam and Eve wander still
in search of a home and identity,
confused and distraught,
ashamed of their nakedness,
yet ever more beholden
to the lies which deceive them

Copyright Francis Barker 2019

Poem: How Long?

person holding opened book
Photo by Eduardo Braga on Pexels.com

Though time flies at biblical speed
the days feel longer;
staring at the rain and sodden fields
doesn’t make me any stronger.
I can’t listen to the radio or watch TV,
it’s wall to wall nonsense,
there’s nothing in it for me.
So I think of you
and your angel who said you’d return –
on heaven’s clouds,
in the twinkle of an eye.
Now just watch the world burn

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Poem: Sitting Tight

abstract art background blue sky
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The year is waste.
Each venture outside is met with a snub,
a door closed,
the only resort is home and licking wounds.
Winter has arrived,
metaphoric snow piles high all around
and I’m checking cupboards for food.
I grab a biscuit, put on the fire
and watch the wind rattle roofs,
sitting tight until signs of spring appear

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Poem: The Empty Seats

chairs covered in snow
Photo by Oleg Magni on Pexels.com

It’s winter and all the seats are empty.
The numbing cold has forced them inside,
to sip insipid coffee and chew on bagels,
swallowing whole the words and images
ticking across primary coloured screens.
As for me, I like being with the birds.
They may be cold but no one tells them
where to go and what to believe.
And when I watch the crow
and his intelligent antics, no one can tell me
they don’t know what’s going on

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Prevailing

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I see the effects of prevailing winds,
the stark trees morphed and twisted,
posts gnarled against the freeze and thaw,
the light and dark valkyries
raging across these blighted skies.
This may be natural or foisted upon us –
tell me, how can we be sure?
This world, I look around,
lost in time and out of place.
I feel like a stranger, alone more and more,
while some nature distorts and disfigures
the beauty I was taught to distrust

copyright Francis Barker 2019