I now have one regular patron who sends a monthly contribution to keep this poet alive. Yes, per usual, I'm a poor poet...and for some reason I'm a poor poet in its many meanings...but someone like my patron loves my work. If you become a sustaining patron I can guarantee you'll see writing from me on a regular basis. I do edit my mad. But I don't always hit it out of the park. At least my patrons have a chance to select from all my work...and they become the editors rather than the small-minded who often edit magazines and journals. Poet James Wright,one of his last books, held by two editors for the longest time that his wife Anne took to another publisher who snapped it up and it became a huge success. Now I don't have people like Robert Bly, Don Hall, or their equals I can send my poems to for a review before I put them on the internet or send to any publisher. I believe in opening up my "horde" for the world to critique or love. And it's expensive to send out my work, getting only rejection, so it's money I don't have for food, or the electric bill. Please send what you can via my email: via Paypal. I thank those who support me one way or another.


Thank you to those who have contributed via Paypal to support my writing. My account at Paypal is the same as my email: rikwrybac(at)

Follow by Email

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

In the Wind

The first few leaves of fall
were blown to ground
Oh, I'd seen the colors change
from brightest green to yellows and reds
all around
I had not expected to see leaves fall
yet I knew all would

I've seen this many times before
this year somehow
To see leaves fall for the first time
came as a shock
as if I'd seen a crime

Have I become that sensitive
that the change of seasons
the on-going constant
would upset me to such a degree
an invisible grip would squeeze
the center of me
the visceral knowledge that calls
another end to this season
these visions of life
that send me dreaming
away from my world
behind these walls

For now the summer fades
and cooler winds chase birds away
soon squirrel, turkey and deer
will be just prints in snow
that show which way the cadence
of their wild hearts shall take them
and I shall stare instead of follow
with my own wish
to fly outside in any wind

Copyright (c) 2012 by Barry G. Wick

Post a Comment