The gentle rush of rain
breaks the silence,
soon joined by the cat lapping —
unseen.
Then both are gone;
I watch the miles thick cloud
parading overhead,
dark autumn leviathans
shunting in from the west. Yes,
sometimes the silence gets to me,
it isn’t what I crave.
A silent mind is creative, some say,
then how is darkness a friend?
Copyright Francis Barker 2020 — a creator fond of poetry
copyright Francis Barker 2020
copyright Francis Barker 2019
Sometimes I hate you, I must
avert my eyes.
Other times I love you
and I’m crazy, I can’t leave you
alone.
Mostly though I’m indifferent,
you’re something there out
of my window on any
random day,
like the sparrows who chat huddled
side by side
on their privet hedge.
But whether you’re friend, enemy
or mere acquaintance, you are all
outsiders—
intruders in this precious
secret space
poem © copyright David F. Barker 2012
Five Minutes
It’s only a pigeon’s call,
three short squawks
repeated ad infinitum.
I wonder why
he has so much to say
but this is his life:
during the day he eats,
at dusk he turns to sleep
A car arrives— sounds like
the slick bass purr of a German V6,
crunching on gravel.
A door slamming marks an end,
maybe shopping unloaded:
the beginning of silence.
And then the pigeon
starts over all over again
poem © copyright df barker 2012
