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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Saturday, July 23, 2016

Vulnerable

for Kent Stevens by request



There were things called records I do believe,
they stayed all day in a cardboard sleeve.
We pulled them out to make them play,
so music could make the room full sway.
Then video recorders came to stay,
years went by they went away.
I don't know what comes out next,
its going away will have me vext.
Better to save your dollars dear,
than lose them to a fad this year.
Flowers and trees are next, I'm told,
people now think they're just too old.
Losing their bid are air and water
to stay with us, I think they ought'r.
Earth is tired of humans we know
since heat is rising with a very hot blow.
Though never you fear of sun and heat
for everything some day becomes obsolete.



Barry G. Wick

((one of my rare rhyming poems, usually on light themes.))
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