Tag: poems

‘Scorpio’ – Sex and death… read more musings about life!

Scorpio

Sex and death, death and sex:
is this all there is?

Is everything else in between
mere lies and nonsense

like a mountain of trash
to fill our emptiness

and to ease the unbearable agony
of being alone?

We are sickened by the truth
of our parents copulating,

the thought of their bodies, lifeless,
unable to help us anymore.

Either one is unpalatable, extreme,
staring at us twenty four seven

with laser beam eyes in the dark
waiting for psycho-babble to fade

and our heart to wail at the sight
of the scorpion’s tail

copyright David Barker 2009

If you have the time, a poem for you…

A Picture of You

you cupping daffodils in sacred space,
me entranced by you in your sacred space

now I’m dreaming of spring, of light, of warmth,
a new life together, in sacred space

we returning birds in hope of new life,
preparing for bliss in still, sacred space

what peace there may be, let’s find together;
a lotus where birds wash, their sacred space

a garden where someone talks to the birds,
gently asking, we share his sacred space

© copyright David Francis Barker 2011

A New Poem, ‘Nymph’

Nymph

You come to me, your face in water
mouthing words, obscure in the water

speaking from beyond, unsuspected
I peer across this sheen of water

I ask a question, you shake your head
I see nymph’s tears, even through water

my world and yours, we can almost touch
this crystal veil disguised as water

I hear you, as if you say ‘free me!’
then you’re gone, through my hands, like water

© copyright David Francis Barker 2011

Please read ‘The Pier’ – A new poem about the times we live in

The Pier

He wished the promontory
would go on forever.
In his mind the wooden boards

stretched out into the ocean
to meet some vague vanishing point.
And that’s where he was,

the absolute part of him.
Disembodied.
Looking back on all that was,

what he’d become,
the pier a mere crustacean,
grey-white and beached,

the town and its cliffs
his Turneresque attempt
which convinced no one.

So what was it, from that viewpoint?
Nothing without distance and light.
Reaching the place

where the boards ran out,
he held onto the rusty rail,
seagulls all around

like wayward thoughts,
until she finally caught up
and gently took his arm.

© copyright David Francis Barker

A New Poem

Ebbsfleet

So long ago, so near at hand,
such is our English past.

Something in our make up
makes us conspire to deny

our great achievements
hidden from our eye.

And when Hengist came to Ebbsfleet
whether asked or on daring raid,

he set in motion a dogged force
yet to be fully appraised

or to run its full course

© copyright David Francis Barker 2011

Merely to encapsulate my feelings about being English in the 21st century. We are a tolerant nation, we have a culture with a long history but our democratic rights are being denied.