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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Monday, January 29, 2018

The Arrogant Young Men




I see you in the picture
certainly proud
you do look amazing
for your age
better than I ever looked

Then you note
your dislike
for creepy old men
Well that's me
and I arrived here honestly

It's easy to get here
Parents die and divorce
wrinkles and accidents
arthritis in those
well-exercised joints

Enjoy sunning yourself
on that gorgeous beach
then despite all your preventives
I'll watch your nose
lopped off



Barry G. Wick

Monday, January 15, 2018

This Winters Day for The Magic of Love--(Manuel de Falla “El Amor Brujo”)


Some tardy leaves swirl
across the top
of a thin snow
Knuckles of the apple tree
can be seen wishing
a warm palm
would be welcoming
A small clutch of sparrows
circles concrete
under a roof
more protective
of a black car
than their anxious circus

Is there some kind of seed
upon this barren shelf
of an open air freezer
It's hard to tell
as some move in and out
under a sculpted evergreen
or in search of something
beneath the apple
though these singular hoppers
refuse to stay
where there is nothing
Though there is no sun
it seems too bright too cold
to leave the curtain open

Manual de Falla
wrote this music
for the warmth of Andalusia
We could use a Ritual Fire Dance
today in Iowa.
We wonder which of these birds
are in the passionate flame
behind this libretto
then
suddenly
a Scarlet Tanager
which doesn't seem to belong here
at this time of year
arcs by the neighbor's storage shed
This is the misplaced fire of winter
that dodges snowflakes
as easily as the magic of love
slips between the notes of music



Barry G. Wick




Thursday, January 11, 2018

Simple Plan



A bag of garbage in the hall
sat there demanding
in charge of all it blocked
ego-inflated plastic
the used and useless
in haughty perfection

The hand extended
plucks this maniac
from its perch
as the door opens
to reveal its partner
the snow and sleet-covered porch

The conspirators of spoiled odor
once again deny extraction
to this hallway commander
its access to a bin of waste
as fear of slipping foot
foils a simple plan



Barry G. Wick