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Thank you to those who support me via my Paypal account: rikwrybac@yahoo.com. The government doesn't read my poetry. You do. Out of over 560 poems here on this blog by me, I hope you find one or more you like. Thank you for my readers. Thank you for your comments.

Sunday, March 23, 2025

Going Under

Going Under

Are these waves
Nothing about them is wet
They are full of memory
As painful as it gets
I'm reminded of guys
I knew years ago
Remembering every one
Their special qualities
I lose them at every step
Whether by their action
Or my telling them to go
My reasons were always
My family who would disapprove
I never thought for myself
My life didn't belong to me

So all I'm left with is sad memory
My later years alone
It's all my fault
This negativity continues
This emptiness is in charge
I can't step forward
What would they think
Who would I be
There's no profit
There's no benefit
Illusions continue to pile
As I tell myself I'm happy
Insert laughing here

Barry G. Wick


Friday, March 7, 2025

Pine Bark

Pine Bark

As a child
I was drawn
To the largest beings
In my neighborhood
The ponderosa pines
They lined my trail to school
They held a tree house
Made with injurious nails
Burned in our fireplace
Railings for a fence
Sitting next to one
I could peel  pieces
Of bark full of tiny holes
Pink and white underneath
The darkened and weathered
Surface chipped away
With a child's fingers
Little did I realize
Life would strip my bark from me
I was so strong and tall
Standing against the violent sky
The trees of the hill where I lived
Are still there so faraway
Their bark now seems
The softest skin̈
As I reach out to their motherhood

Barry G. Wick

Wednesday, February 12, 2025

Flakes

Flakes

Snow falls on an uncleaned porch
Kids knock to offer service
With their shovels
I have no money
To pay their price
Later
Opening the door
still snowing
The porch would have been
Recovered
Who would charge
To remove the new snow
I wait for the sun
Luckily still free
But you can bet
Someone tries to charge
For the open space to sun
LIke they do for the machinery
That cleans the streets
After the snow flies
Ah, the layers of government
In service of the economy
That won't send boys
To shovel my ramp
But who would visit me
And where would I go
The boys who want money
Would charge me for their use
Of my snow covered porch 
That no one will visit until
Until
I don't know when

Barry G. Wick

Sunday, February 2, 2025

Death

Death

There is no rest in death
It takes effort to never breathe 
Just try to stop decay
It's terribly tiring
Then there's the dark
Provided your body was found
And coffinated 
Can you believe it
There are people who want
To be dead
Decoffinated
They accept being turned
Into ash
Ash
Then it's death as cement
Or some kind of clay fixture
Here's uncle Bob
He became a statue of Venus
Well he always was that way
He just loved shiny silk and such
Some go to space
It wasn't enough to be dead on earth
I suppose they couldn't take
The constant tears and wails
Having given some thought
I want to be loved by dogs
Where they leave their excrement
On some grassy ground
Chasing a ball
And maybe just maybe
Chewing on my bones


Barry G Wick


Saturday, January 11, 2025

The intruding world

The intruding world

Here comes another bill
For healthcare needs
Another shock
When after fears
Of losing leg
Became a scream
To wake up to the
Last of life
The last days
The last week's unsure
It's just today buster
It's just now
When all I want is silence
The silence of Ramana Maharshi
When these words written
Or spoken or thought
Fail to live the way I do
Inside

Barry G. Wick

Thursday, January 2, 2025

Grey Day

Grey Day


Sitting staring

The window spotted

A screen blotted here

This is a wait

For any change

In a darkened sky

Winters finger

In your eye


Barry G. Wick



Snow

Snow

Large flakes of snow
Fall on Iowa
These are reminders
Of the flakes of ash
That fell on Nagasaki
I feel their heat
As I wonder why
This comes to mind
Is it history
Or a forecast 
Of the fires to come

Barry G. Wick

Sunday, December 15, 2024

Too late to love

Too late to love

Now photos take me
Into the stream of love
From the past 
Visible to the world
Two images find me
Wishing for the hearts
Of two men
One an indigenous man
In his decorations
And breechcloth
The other a cowboy
From earlier times
Neither would look twice
At me if we'd met
Both years dead
I see them now
With love 
After this no living man
Will hug or kiss me
Knowing photos
Have captured my dreams
I would toss them all away
For any man to hold my hand

Barry G. Wick

Tuesday, December 10, 2024

Dance

Dance


We have to dance even if we sway

In our wheeled chairs

We have to sing even if we just hum

We have to know art

Even if we only feel sculpture or

Touch a wall hanging made of rope

With tin cans full of dents

Many feelings fall from us

The fruits that grow

From the rain of lìfe


Barry G. Wick

Saturday, November 30, 2024

Strangers

Strangers

Every day is a little stranger you get to know.  You live with this stranger and all it's quirks and foibles.  It's likes and dislikes.  And then it goes away as suddenly as it came.  Some of the strangers you miss.

Barry G. Wick