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.

Tuesday, May 30, 2023

Sad People

Sad people

I've begun to see
The images presented
As if I belonged here
With sad poets in old pictures.
The downturned mouth,
The eyes on the edge of blank,
From another time.
He looked like I could know him
But we're a hundred years ago
And I'm now wherever and whenever
That is.  That is.
My father described the kind of man
That I am.
The picture of my old love was sad.
Am I sad?
Only because I see
What others can't see.
I'm not special.
The illusions.  Every illusion.
It's almost as if
Well that won't work.
These are just words.
I'm lost in them.
Green gray blue red.

 Barry G. Wick

Sunday, May 21, 2023



It's a board game played
To give common people
A sense of power
Once only available
To kings and generals
Who saw that taking
Land and people brought
Great wealth and power

Every man becomes a king
When he is loved
by another
Love is the greatest risk

My country pieces
Have been removed
From the world map
I am now an unloved
A subject eats cheap hotdogs
Letting them fry in a small pan
The heat makes them pop
As they turn themselves
When a side becomes
Blistered and burned

Burned blisters come
from battles
In Risk

Barry G. Wick

Monday, May 8, 2023


Few will understand me
Or remember me
Hate or love me
In as short as twenty years
Or even yesterday
Will you buy my perspective today?
I thought not
At the least I offered
What does anyone expect for free
The cost to each of us gives value
I've lost everything
So I must be rich

Barry G. Wick, part of 500 poems written by this author at

Sunday, May 7, 2023


Here is your daily dose of throwaway 
Here is your daily dose of throwaway Music
Here is your daily dose of throwaway Words
Here is your daily dose of throwaway
Here is your daily dose of throwaway
It's all headed for Mars and faraway
The oceans are filling with plastic
Ain't that fantastic
They come from a planet you can't
Pronounce only known by the ounce
Stuff me in your rectum play me with your
It's all a loss so says the boss now make
My eyes gloss with sphagnum moss
Holy roly poly Renato Podjoli
Fizzle me twizell gisele me bizzell
Modgrobble me bobble ubgobble yer tobble

Barry G. Wick


Thursday, May 4, 2023


Your last breaths seemed painful to me
I am certain of your last thoughts
As mine may be the same as I say good-bye 
to the world of pain I created

Speaking to you like Neruda speaks
To his mother would not be possible
I am tired beyond those black years
When I constantly cared for you

I did tell you I loved you as I put
My flabby arm around you that you
Could not put around me like your sister
Who showed me affection I missed

Your mother's words came to me
In missed caresses as you explained
Her cold Norwegian upbringing 
And the distance between you and her

What did you get from her in those
Years of vocalizing in Dakota's enclaves
As I remember her in her last year's
I felt little warmth in my failed heart

These vacancies have passed down
To my children and to me doubly
In these years of distance and emptiness
That have been left to me unpolished

Barry G. Wick