Tanka: Old Father Thames

buildings near body of water — Photo by Jerome Kalan on Pexels.com

Poor Old Father Thames
The mudlarks uncovered him
on the cold foreshore
He has turned into old pipes
and porcelain bric-a-brac

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Poem: Cow

black and white dairy cow s head — Photo by Jan Koetsier on Pexels.com

A cow bestrides the sea wall
blocking our path, dark
eyes staring us out while

slovenly chewing
the winter grass. I don’t think
she gives a damn about

me and even less
about you – I think she’s
sussed us out, that you find her

disturbing. She has
no opinion on these views either
side, the expanses of fen

drably bedecked
by sparse copse and spire,
the salt marsh

dividing old kingdoms and ways
of speech. Her only view is
of us, that her might is right and

that we shall not pass easily

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Haiku: Saint Edmund’s Day

closeup photo of black and white dog — Photo by JoergK. Photography on Pexels.com

You aren’t forgotten
Some of us will remember
until bitter ends

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Poem: The Order of Genius

brown booklet in a brown wooden piano close up photography — Photo by Aramis Cartam on Pexels.com

The genius of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven –
what makes such complexity relaxing,
such simplicity beautiful?
It defies my attempts to judge,
like tearing off a butterfly’s wings

I just sit, contemplate
and follow where it will go

Haiku: True or False

man sitting on edge facing sunset — Photo by Abhiram Prakash on Pexels.com

Tag: poetry

Tanka: Old Father Thames

Poor Old Father Thames
The mudlarks uncovered him
on the cold foreshore
He has turned into old pipes
and porcelain bric-a-brac

Poem: Cow

A cow bestrides the sea wall
blocking our path, dark
eyes staring us out while

slovenly chewing
the winter grass. I don’t think
she gives a damn about

me and even less
about you – I think she’s
sussed us out, that you find her

disturbing. She has
no opinion on these views either
side, the expanses of fen

drably bedecked
by sparse copse and spire,
the salt marsh

dividing old kingdoms and ways
of speech. Her only view is
of us, that her might is right and

that we shall not pass easily

Haiku: Saint Edmund’s Day

You aren’t forgotten
Some of us will remember
until bitter ends

Poem: The Order of Genius

The genius of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven –
what makes such complexity relaxing,
such simplicity beautiful?
It defies my attempts to judge,
like tearing off a butterfly’s wings

I just sit, contemplate
and follow where it will go

Haiku: True or False

Fake news all around
Nothing new under the sun
But what is the sun?

Poor Old Father Thames The mudlarks uncovered him on the cold foreshore He has turned into old pipes and porcelain bric-a-brac

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A cow bestrides the sea wall blocking our path, dark eyes staring us out while

slovenly chewing the winter grass. I don’t think she gives a damn about

me and even less about you – I think she’s sussed us out, that you find her

disturbing. She has no opinion on these views either side, the expanses of fen

drably bedecked by sparse copse and spire, the salt marsh

dividing old kingdoms and ways of speech. Her only view is of us, that her might is right and

that we shall not pass easily

Rate this:

Share this:

You aren’t forgotten Some of us will remember until bitter ends

Rate this:

Share this:

The genius of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven – what makes such complexity relaxing, such simplicity beautiful? It defies my attempts to judge, like tearing off a butterfly’s wings

I just sit, contemplate and follow where it will go

Rate this:

Share this:

Fake news all around Nothing new under the sun But what is the sun?

Rate this:

Share this:

Poor Old Father Thames
The mudlarks uncovered him
on the cold foreshore
He has turned into old pipes
and porcelain bric-a-brac

A cow bestrides the sea wall
blocking our path, dark
eyes staring us out while

slovenly chewing
the winter grass. I don’t think
she gives a damn about

me and even less
about you – I think she’s
sussed us out, that you find her

disturbing. She has
no opinion on these views either
side, the expanses of fen

drably bedecked
by sparse copse and spire,
the salt marsh

dividing old kingdoms and ways
of speech. Her only view is
of us, that her might is right and

You aren’t forgotten
Some of us will remember
until bitter ends

The genius of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven –
what makes such complexity relaxing,
such simplicity beautiful?
It defies my attempts to judge,
like tearing off a butterfly’s wings

I just sit, contemplate
and follow where it will go

Fake news all around
Nothing new under the sun
But what is the sun?