Ten Thousand

 

Ten Thousand

Dance steps

the noisy kind that turn the head

through drifting picnics

on soft grass

The surprise of it

Note of music

soft passages with open windows

mixed dark dreams

lightning in clouds

water pressure released

Lines of yarn

blue and red on indigenous looms

to wrap a horse

with falls from grace

extended hands shunned

Frightened dogs

a pleasing yip of joy

the walkers stumble

climbers grab at straw

jars of beef broth

Wet finger tips

wrinkles in the cotton shirt

wilting chrysanthemums

squirrels chase in the yard

the vibrations of Bach

Barry G. Wick

It.

It. (For Nancy)

Have you selected your "its"

It is a bottle of vodka

Filtered and re-distilled

It is an eclair with choco icing

It is stylish clothes

Or your newest friend

Who has your heart in a skip

There will come a day

When it won't matter

Any it will not matter

Oh you'll seek butterflies

And unicorns grazing

In fields of pale blue flowers

Their hooves flinging gold

Into a spring morning

When some it grabs you

With muscled arms

That enfold you

Only for a moment

Until you remember 

It doesn't matter

This isn't surrender

Or giving up

This is acceptance

That this moment

Will be more important

Than the it that scrapes

Your remembrance

Of your first breath

And bright lights

In a cold room

When life became your it

Your focus changes

All those other its don't matter

They all release you

From your promises to them

This and that it doesn't matter

You are now free

To be

To be it

Barry G. Wick

 

Dear Readers and Friends,

Blogger by Google is changing.  Instead of allowing you to received my poems, as you are one of my subscribers, via email, they are no longer going to allow that.  I suspect the day is coming when I will no longer be posting here.  None, the less, if you wish to see my poems when I publish them, please send your email address to rikwrybac@yahoo.com and I will alert you when I've put a new poem up here.

You may or may not know that I am not a fan of the publishing world.  I'm certain there are people smarter and more refined than I who bring small magazines and books of poems to the public.  They are to be lauded.  I hate rejection beyond everything.  I've been rejected ao many times by editors that the pain of rejection is beyond my ability to stand it.    Now, some will say, toughen those tits, Barry.  Yeah, but after a life where I was always trying to be tough and never could be, well, maybe I hope you'll understand why I don't try an publish...sending out my simple ruminations into a dark world.  Thank you for being among the view who read what I have to write.  Remember, to send me your email address and I'll alert you.

Barry G. Wick

Ancient Wisdom

Ancient Wisdom

(with thoughts of Lao Tzu)

Little thoughts have bounced

around my head

for years

Lao Tzu figured it out

thousands of years ago

In my old age I understand

what he wrote

in another way

or the same way

depending upon his age

One failure becomes two

Two failures becomes three

and three failures becomes

the ten thousand failures

Anything I write after that

is just trying to keep your attention

which is another failure

because you'll go on

and never remember me

which is one of my

ten thousand failures

Barry G. Wick