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Thank you to those who support me via my Paypal account: rikwrybac@yahoo.com. 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.

Monday, March 27, 2023

Conundrum

Conundrum

The Buddhist chef says
"When you wash the rice,
Wash the rice."
Mindfulness of task.
I brush my teeth
In a mindful way.
My nose says "Hold on!
I'm dripping now. Mindful this."
No, I'm brushing my teeth.
"I'll drip through your mustache
And into your mouth," it says.
What can I do? I'm brushing.
"Mindful of my needs, please."

Throughout my day
Nose interrupts.
Obviously nose hates
A student Buddhist
Who hates nose.

Hate does not appear
In the Buddhist student handbook.

Barry G. Wick


Saturday, March 25, 2023

A Memory

A Memory

This morning colder as I sit
At an old plastic sink
Brushing my graying hair
The man in the mirror
Looks at strands in a comb
Pulled from his thinning head
Across the room a radio
Plays a piano trio
Adding to the age
Of the moment
Someone listens to hip hop
They don't miss or know
This piece from an olden time
Just as I don't know theirs
Now there begins a sweet thought
Given to the time of day
A change in the eyes annouces
Both at the same time
Just minutes from the dreams 
Reflections meet each other
In a tear of a better past
That happens more in these days


Barry G. Wick

Thursday, March 16, 2023

Three Years

Three Years

Three years in my home
To hide from disease 
That has killed more than a million
In this nation
It is a plague to be so isolated

This house is kept noisy
With music and videos
From the internet
A great gift from someone
Whom I love more than myself
Yet at the start of breakfast
The simplest comment or tune
Will set off the only images I have
The past years of my life
The people I've known and seen
Situations that angered and thrilled
Though often paid me in guilt
Often sad and painful
Here I am I say
To push away the memory
That intrudes upon this space

For some of these moments
I am grateful yet push them aside
As eggs and toast fall 
Upon a simple.gray plate
Coffee sugar milk
Butter scraped on crumb

The day begins with plans
That change from day to day
This or that simple creation
That won't last to inspire emotion
In anyone I love
About these lonely years
Full of dreams that frighten
Or give me laughter
Here I am Lord
As I refer to the majesty
Of the universe that surrounds me
Small and alone
Untouched for many years
Though I am not sorrowed
It's gratitude to have finally found
Myself

Barry G. Wick