Patron

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 400 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.

Monday, March 11, 2024

Striped Sky

Striped Sky

Over Iowa now
High aircraft put long stripes
In a cloudless sky
Six or more at a time
I come to the porch today
Hoping it's the special day
I'll see polka dots

Is it too much to ask for them
To stitch me a blanket
Of clouds
To drape my home
In flowers
In colored needlepoint
For spring

Barry G. Wick

Friday, March 8, 2024

The Scars

The Scars

As an old man I have
Memories of life and adventure
In this new age of instant visions
I've seen a photo
Of a naked twenty-something
Peter Hujar running
In his photo from the Met
An unprompted artist
Like me
His beautiful body should not
Be my desire
Because I know the truth
With a capital T

As age, isolation, and failing health
Can't entice any friendship
Such a sudden image delivery
Only reminds me of the travails
Of my youth witnessed by the scars
Both outside my empained frame
And the ones unseen
That I carry to remind me
How I must live now without
A careless walk through 
Mental jungles and those dangerous
Smooth lawns throwing and hitting
The balls of game and competition

Surely an old man could love
Though an older man 
With his own scars of battle
Would be more appropriate
As I review my own marks
Upon my aching physique
And a soul whose thunder
Is rolling away hectare by hectare
In remembrance of storms
No longer sending me
To seek the shelter of known
And unknown gods and spirits

A young man will find his own
Scars
Many years in the future
If he's careful to value every gift
I will continue the last crawl
Only searching for a worthy end

Another image comes to mind
I think how lucky Whitman was
To have the help of Bill Duckett
Who posed for Thomas Eakins
In the same natural clothes
I have seen today
Old Walt was closer to a dream
Than I will ever be

I only have to sit granite still
As memory's attack begins
All the marks are gently reviewed
I am their victim and joyful subject
Filled with life that continues
To massage my scars
From a cloudy sky
To a bright blue morning

Barry G. Wick

Thursday, March 7, 2024

Blind Clocks

Blind Clocks

Don't remember me
Take me off the books
There is nothing to believe in
Hold onto something in your world
I was not worthy or excited
About anything beyond my 30s
Our lips never melted together
As the heat of youth dissipated

Don't be sad
Nor shed a tear at my end
I was just another in a long line
Of forgettables
Stones sit above the graves
Until the weather wears them
No one will understand the writing
Of this dead language

What did I do for you
Ah I mourned you in my days
Your gifts were so simple
As I was falling in love
But we missed each other
In this psychotic life
Passing through a few years
When our faces were closer

We didn't see each other
As the swirl around us took
Our attentions away from
The important things 
We needed them less so
Losing moments that surrounded
Clocks ticked our seconds away
Their blind faces became ours

Barry G. Wick



Friday, March 1, 2024

Bugs

Bugs

Here we crawl
On our small world
Angry at each other
Eating our young
In war and uncaring ways
Should the universe
Reexamine its creation
There's no doubt
It's enormous mind would
Find a way to correct
These false directions
It will work in its own time
Or not
Best to ignore this mess
There are more important
Worlds to create
Where mistakes learned
Won't interfere
Time to clean my antennae

Barry G. Wick


Sunday, February 25, 2024

Winter Sun

Winter Sun

Winter sun surprises me
In Iowa this year
February is not a time
To sun on the porch
Thoughts of summer
Come back to my world
Surprise is just days away
When we return to snow
Cold wind will blow
A natural confusion expected
Dear me
How long will it be
For another warm day

BGW

Sunday, February 18, 2024

Mind-cuffs

Mind-cuffs

From birth you learn
How to control others
As they control you
With rules of everything

Who knows how many
Rules you taught others

Some will be free
To ride a bicycle nude
Some will be uneasy
Just thinking about that

Religion is a controller
With its black book

Nature can slap hard
With poison plants
Kicking and biting
Crushing in all forms

A thrown rock that hits
Is a lifetime remembered

The joy of music
Will swallow your mind
Or be a door to godd
Vibration is all around

Every atom shakes us
Or twirls it's cosmic baton

We spend our lives
In search of keys
To unlock answers 
That never will be known

The mind-cuffs grow 
In units of heavy time


Barry G. Wick







Thursday, February 8, 2024

Black Malo: unrequited love

Black Malo: unrequited love

Between lives and beach
He wears a black Malo
With front flap to knees
A second in the back
With strap of cloth folds
Connecting to the knot
Which runs loose between 
The loaves of his buttocks
As he draws in a breath
Scented by thoughts of me
In drape of fundoshi flowers
With his arms as they wave
In red light at sunset
From his lonely dance
As play steps aside
When dream's leaves
Are my rough fingers that
Sail around his brown skin


Barry G. Wick


Wednesday, January 31, 2024

From the Closed Door

From the Closed Door

Nothing moves as fast
As the winter sun
Shadows on the porch
Race 
Playing a game of hide
Of which there is no seek
Until night wonders
Where they've gone
Suddenly lonely
And late for a feast
The line of darkness
Eats the screws by ones
So  tasty for gobbling shade
A seatless chair in and out
Ruined by wet snow
Where no one sits to explain
Why they won't fix it
Maybe in spring it thinks
“Maybe I'll be useful in spring”

Barry G. Wick

Tuesday, January 30, 2024

Just Missing

Just Missing

The trees sway
As my life slips ungracefully
Through the needles
To places where leaves
Caress me 
I am a breeze away from you
Yet my lips cannot touch
Their desire
Or say anything to join
Your flight 
Only now the rush of wind
Gets me close 
Then carry me far away from
The fields of waving love

Barry G. Wick

Monday, January 29, 2024

Disconnected

Disconnected

There's a bill to pay
Every day
In order to live
On some days
It's electricity
With dollars that came
From somewhere
Other days it's silence
Which are paid for
With mental games
Jerking the past
Forwards and backwards
Then there are friends
Who are rented with smiles
A cup of coffee
And open ears
There comes a day
When all these are disconnected
The lights are on
But nothing makes sense
And we turn them off 
There are no smiles
It's all silence
Full of chaos
Yet no door knocks
Coffee alone
Sitting in the dark
Nothing from the past
Is worth remembering
It is the time
When all the sins
Come due
There are no angels
There is no Jesus
Hiding in the wallet


Barry G. Wick