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, March 23, 2024



All that I sense becomes a memory
From the past
Dipping in and out
Of the present just as
The sun finds a hole
In grey clouds
That makes the future
Worth the hope for which I pay

This comes from the pandemic
When I sealed myself away
Inside my home
Draping myself in silence
Entombed in my own words
Like a man in a small town
who yelled at a street corner
No one stopped to listen

People have real problems
When others just talk at
Each other in monumental halls
Nothing gets solved
I could but I'm tired of all sides
Who also hide in themselves
From what they really want
In the open and alone

Barry G. Wick

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