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.

Saturday, November 27, 2021

Banned in Texas

This poem
Will be banned
In Texas.
It was written
By a person
Who has read
A book,
Seen modern art,
Hoped for alternative energy,
Can spell in American,
Has drunk wine,
No longer owns guns,
Thinks there's hope
For Hispanics,
And worst of all...
Has had sex.
I'm certain I could
Offer up some other
Shocking life experiences
That someone in Texas
Could find offensive
Such as having ribald
Dreams on occasion.
Mice in my home 
May also have had sex.
My neighbors might be
I have electricity that's
Reliable in winter.
That alone will
Get this poem a
Triple X rating
In Dallas and Houston.
Far worse,
I write letters and poems
And have family in Texas
Who are literate
Just like me.
They might be
Thank you, Texas,.
For banning this poem.
You have boosted my career
To the emperean.
I expect to have,
At the very least,
Attracted one more reader
That doesn't pay me
For anything I've written.
I also put ketchup
On hotdogs.
Now I'm banned
In Chicago.

Barry G. Wick

Thursday, November 25, 2021

Black Time

Black times shine through 
Out from the days
Into the empty nights
Bragging their nonsense
With dreams and colored visions
That never can be possessed

I am tears that wait
To be brushed away
By a welcome finger
Not my own that reap
The sorrow of golden days
That never came together

The descent into this morning
Of promises begins lifeless
Seeds of caution expect
Their blooms of change
Overloaded with pillars
Of racing sun caught wild

Barry G. Wick

Sunday, November 7, 2021

Before Long

Before Long

When was that?

Or when will that be?

I stand in awe

Of the colors I see

In those two words.

The yellow of the fall grass

Where I'd sit on the knoll

South of my childhood home

On Hangmans Hill.

What dark green ponderosas

With black and gray bark

Torn to rose by finger nails

Stands in the way of my eyes

As I spent time thinking

Above the town where I grew

With no plans or dreams

Of my own.

I satisfied the dreams

Of others hoping I could

Feel a love for which

I searched and still do.

Did the radioactive rock

Deep beneath my chosen perch

Burn the drive out of me?

I'd look down upon the town

The descending path

Behind me with its curves

From the skyline above

Ends here with the redwood house

On my right and my future

On my left where the rain

Would cross the bands of hills

I could see in summer.

Is it long now, as my mind

Goes there to rest

In these lonely years?

Is it before long

When life's longest rest

Takes me to the edges

Of the universe?

This reverie in limbo

Has me dreaming

Of sitting here

In a past where my mind

Was blank of everything

That was important

Or could be.

I'll never really be

There again,

Alone, so alone,

Watching all that tiny life

from above

As if I were a godd

Unable to control anything.

It is the same now,

Without the browned grass

To pluck and place

On youthful lips,

Or tiny stones to toss

To the edge of this gentle mound

That comes to me from memory.

Barry G. Wick