Poem ‘A Time of Dreams’

A Time of Dreams

I found myself in a country
of huge living skies,
speaking your dreams
of earth, the great teacher.
I was standing by a mesa,
felt its warmth against my skin,
fingers spanning epochs
flattened into inches,
whispering mantras
and prayers in your name,
not in memory
but for your continuing
presence of love.
I spoke to you,
my spine square to red earth;
you were there in each rock,
the cactus, every molecule of air,
in the eagle’s eye lasering my soul.
When finally I awoke
it was another age, as if seconds
had stretched into centuries.
But you were there
and took my hand.
It was the most natural thing

poem © copyright dfbarker 2012

Poem ‘Weapon Take’

Weapon Take

No rusty blade
ever turns up here,
no shadow of a ship
or bejewelled belt;

no iconic helm
to add credence
to our wounded identity.
Not even signs

of a mystery hillock
rising in hugging mists
to excite or intrigue
those metal detector men.

Merely one vast industrial
scar, scoured of feature,
almost of life, tamed,
or destroyed,

depending on your view,
turned inside out
by Angevin priors
and inscrutable Dutchmen.

I come from a long
line of diggers
and dark-eyed women,
grown out of this morass,

hardened to sweat
and pitiless Ural winds.
People who made-do,
though never in

any doubt they
were the subjected
men of their Hundred,
the brave new Wapentake,

where the councillors
still speak in a
double-Dutch behind
tall, timbered walls.

poem and image © copyright dfbarker 2012
*poem first published in collection ‘Anonymous Lines’, available at amazon.

** Wapentake was the Danish word for the English Hundred (a small, political unit, originally meaning a hundred homes). This word is still used in the ‘Danelaw’ counties of eastern England.

Poem ‘Brief’

Brief

Of the class of ’77
to my mind you were the best

Diamond moments
in empty halls,
instruments lying at your mercy,

each note, every chord
an affable smile
pavilioned in memory

How could you
be so brief,
this grief be so long?

Poem ‘Think of Me’

Think of me

please pay your respects
to the dust trodden into carpets,
ingrained in chairs
and in curtains,
all along these tired window ledges

Then will you write my name
on the dusty shelves
where my books used to lie?
For in truth
they were more surely me

Poem ‘Abstract’

Abstract

Duty is an abstraction
reality something else
It requires open eyes
a vision without frontiers
a heart of kindness, acceptance
of nature’s prevalence
not some token paradise
where we are an aberration

20,000 cormorants are too many
‘they’re eating all the fish’
Seven billion humans
are sustainable, though
not everyone has enough food

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