Inspired by Reena’s Exploration Challenge #257 & Moonwashed Musings Weekly Prompt – Dappled
behind bars from crime
convict’s records dappled with blight
some fight for freedom
Inspired by Reena’s Exploration Challenge #257 & Moonwashed Musings Weekly Prompt – Dappled
behind bars from crime
convict’s records dappled with blight
some fight for freedom
Roses
I only pretend to smell the roses
when I kiss their petals with lips
chapped by twenty years of thirst.
I never expected to live this long
without you.
For the Bird who Smashed into my Window
All that remained airborne
was a solitary feather
on its final flight
Not understanding death
drifting down
Galileo
Poets have been howling at the moon
since before we invented language
Our ancestors gazed at the stars
noticed five among thousands
that wandered the skies like chariots
Astrologers and scientists tracked
Jupiter as he marched along
regularly retracing his steps
at his most glorious
No one knew of his four escorts
each brighter than the little dipper
until Galileo pointed his telescope
up — and revealed what had been hidden
by the Jovian glare
And I mourn for the eons of reflected sunlight
wasted on our puny human eyes
for Io, Europa, Ganymede and Callisto
A farmboy sees the ocean for the first time
I remember my first visit to The City,
stepping onto a straight flat boulevard,
shuddering at the endless street lights
and buildings marching to the horizon.
I was afraid to cross traffic,
be swept away by a river of iron,
but trusted most drivers would stop
if only to avoid insurance paperwork.
Now I stand on a beach
and can’t see the other shore
and the fear is different
than it was among the works of men.
These waves are relentless,
waxing and waning with their own logic,
the guttural voice of the ocean
propelled into the land,
beckoning,
compelling.
The fear is different here—
The ocean does not care
if I can swim and yet
I step into the surf.
Liberation
Harder to jump my first boxcar
than to leave my life behind
no more cellphone leash
no collar on my left ring finger
no nine digit dog tag
they’re all behind me now
where the rails converge
But no more pleasant dreams
beneath these naive stars
the fear of being jumped
the hunger of moldy food
the cough that won’t go away
Freedom means detachment
lost a tooth in the last fight
lost a toe in the last cold snap
lost my faith in mankind years ago
though a Styrofoam of alms offered
as though I were a monk
reminds me we’re not all bad
Hope they won’t find my body
that I’ll feed the earth that once fed me
can’t stand the thought
of being trapped in a box
for all eternity
~~~
Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in North Carolina. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit. www.bartbarkerpoet.com Bartholomew was initially featured in 2020 on The Short of It and had selected pieces in The Sound of Brilliance.
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#TheShortofIt
Last year when I took off the month of August, it was evident that I did a good thing for my well-being, so I’m doing it again except in September this year!
While I will be intentionally unplugging from blogging, reading blogs, and limiting social media, I’ve already scheduled my Redux posts for Tuesdays, Reblogs for Wednesdays, and The Short of It features on Fridays, so you will still see some content published. Feel free to comment or not, and if you do, rest assured, I will respond when I get back.
In addition to this announcement, this post will also be my last “inspired” post for the month. Enjoy! See you again soon, as I’m sure the time will fly by quickly!
Inspired by Sadje’s What do you see? #149
with nothing in our paths
and the day-to-day distractions far away
freshness is inhaled
expanding our lungs
the air is clean and wholesome
our adventures await
Featured image – Christian Wiediger – Unsplash
our existence isn’t predicted
nor is it predestined
competency and self-knowledge emerge
through thin but mostly thick
comes about with sheer will and determination
and then only happens with a feeling of security
add to that a lack of caring for others’ discrimination
it’s when, loudly spoken
i am who i want to be
is an individual choice
then we are free
Inspired by Reena’s Exploration Challenge #231 & Eugenia’s Weekly Prompt – Smattering
let only a smattering
of what others say penetrate
beneath the protective sheathing
built up over the years
of defining how to live
with yourself
don’t let their insecurities, insensitivities, and disrespect
enter your own “community of madness”
for you have enough on your plate
with you and only you
dive in despite the hurt
bring your light to being
These two pieces clearly show the juxtaposition between a life which is freely chosen and one which is not.
You dance for us too by Chris Hall
We watch you dance in the sunlight
admiring your graceful fluidity
your total abandonment
to your art.
We watch you dance from our windows
confined inside, with limbs
no longer able
to obey.
That freedom, which once was ours
lives on, as we watch
while you dance
for us too.
Barely Ten by Rashmi Buragohain
Featured on Masticadores USA 3/31/22
She was barely ten
When she had to take
Those seven steps around the fire
With weary eyes
She was barely ten
When she stepped in that house
With a toy of a doll
Clasped in her hands
She was barely ten
When her toy was forgotten
Lying somewhere in a corner
Covered with dust
She was barely ten
When the ladle became her life
To feed them all, but none to ask,
«Where is your morsel, dear?»
expanding our wings
fluid freedom is so rare
true hopes for success
pretty bearded tit
panurus biarmicus pose
flight above reedbed soon
the reality of who we are
wrapped in layers of facades
nurtured by culture and family
binds us stoically in place
the lens to our essence
is worn only by the carefully in tune
and compassionate observers
they see us prominently in the opaque
yet fear continues to holds us in check
until the threshold of mediocrity is breached
as exasperation begins to break the hold
of the form of tortuous conformity our bodies inhabit
we set ourselves free, finally…
A profound piece of liberation and empowerment. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
breaking through
outer shell
facade’s protection
birthing
raw beauty
that is
Her own
~ * ~
Photo Courtesy of Pinterest