Poem: The Garth

beautiful blur close up cute
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The accolades like garlands
all around you,
each flower of the palette
in your soul

I saw suns glint in violet eyes,
such rare colour,
your rose petal smiles
on dew laden sward 

You drew me pastel people,
tore them to pieces,
casting high like confetti
in a lavender breeze

Your delicate hand would
demand I take it,
frog march me around
your patchwork garth 

We’d sit in white stillness 
at Indian summer’s end,
our toes dangling in pools
of murky green

And when the grey winds came
soughing demons around us,
you closed that rickety gate
toward Michaelmastide.

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Tanka: The Best Time

animal cat face close up feline
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

It was the best time
Endless summers before school
just mum, cat and me
Our art of simply being
beat the toil of becoming

copyright Francis Barker 2019

Days of Innocence and Eternity

beach

Summer is not far away, fickle though it may be in England’s northerly reaches.

To us as children the good days were glorious; down at the beach the sun was our friend, the sea and sand our playmates through the days which would last forever. Eternity was within our reach – then.

In reality nothing much has changed, only our perception of reality.

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paintings by Francis Barker