Patron

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 work...like 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: rikwrybac@yahoo.com via Paypal. I thank those who support me one way or another.

THANK YOU!

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)yahoo.com

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Tuesday, June 28, 2016

The Stars

In the dark away from cities
be drawn to the stars
like grandparents before
who stared from grassy knolls
their back caressed by earth
All dreams begin with stars
winding their lives like clocks
until the key to time is lost


Dreams that begin with stars
shave with diamond shards
so no hair of thought
extends beyond the face of it
Each dream is smooth
for itself and another
just as a lover's pinch
is drawn to smooth skin

The dream for peace
does not reach beyond itself
but remains pure of heart
The dream for love
has no further shore to settle
The dream for knowledge
travels through the universe
with an invisible ship and sail

Hold these dreams close
for they appear bright ghosts
as sunlight fades from day
These molten shadows of hope
retain all that came before
enclosed in their wispy shells
true for all the ages
as they fly through the dark




Barry G. Wick
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