Thank you to those who support me via my Paypal account: 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.

Friday, August 28, 2020



This is me

Outside alone

Sitting on the knoll

Looking west

At the city below me

Through grass

And pine trees

I am like I will become

Separate and different

The sun in my face

Thinking of nothing

Being nothing

Being with no one

Because I was raised

By a lonely woman

Who shopped every day

For herself

Because shoes and clothes

Filled the hole inside of her

Once a year she'd shop for me

Or give me stupid clothes

At Christmas I'd wear once

Like her closets full of dresses

And shoes

She'd cook dinner while

I practiced piano

Yelling at me to play

It again

Or angry at me

Enough to slap

Or trot out for her image

So I created different worlds

Than the one I was in

With puppets or dreams

Because no friends lived

Next door

Our house was alone

Where my parents were alone

Where I was alone

At the end of our road

On the side of a hill

Behind lonely pines


Barry G. Wick

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