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LERNING
Im lerning how too reed you
no,
And how two rite az wel,
And wen I’ev dun them
both enouf,
I’l fined owt how too
spel.
© Alan Barrett
SCHOOL HAIKU
School again today
Not that I mind going, but
Weekends are better
copyright Alan Barrett
NO ONE
When we were babies
We smiled when we were happy,
And cried when we were not.
We loved anyone who loved us,
Or fed us,
Or played with us.
We hated
No one.
We had no thought
That we were better than another
Because of our gender,
Or colour,
Or physical appearance,
Or mental capacity.
We mocked
No one.
We had little accidents
Like all other babies,
And threw up on our clothes,
And ate the dog food,
And wiped chocolate on the
furniture
In equal amounts to all other
babies.
We were different to
No one.
Only as we grew up
And listened to new ideas,
Hearing only the loudest voice,
Often belonging to the emptiest
head,
Did our minds form opinions
To make the differences matter.
When the differences matter
It helps
No one.
copyright Alan Barrett
MANIC MEANDERINGS
Half past a quarter to seven
in the night time, during the day,
I sprinted whilst hovergliding
on a stream spilling over with hay.
Down to the kangaroo's igloo,
where the mountains reach up to the sea
anf froze in the hot soaking desert
in my sleeping bag, dancing with glee.
My watch, which I wasn't wearing,
said the time was a hundred and eight
so I hurried along without moving
and strolled through the fence with no gate.
I spoke to the invisible person
I could see when I wiggled my knees
and swam with the A-major ice cream
and sang with the green swimming bees.
Now to the folks who see without looking
who unlock a door so it shuts
my journey's beginning is middle
and the end is, I'm totally nuts!
copywrite Alan Barrett
A POEM DOESN’T HAVE
TO RHYME
The way to write poetry is
To let it
flow
To watch
it settle
To draw
a word picture
To be unafraid
If it
Doesn’t
scan
Doesn’t
rhyme
Doesn’t
have a meter
Doesn’t
have verses
Or a chorus
Or a chorus
Oh yeh
Or a chorus
To remember that it is simply
another
Form of
communication
Form of
art
Form of
language use
Form of
expression
To realise that
Your words
Your thoughts
Your feelings
Your message(s)
Are as important
as mine.
copyright Alan Barrett
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GOD SAT
I screamed and shouted
“What in the name
of sanity
is going on?”
God sat.
Impassive, listening,
And let me continue
I beat my fists on His chest
And threw myself to the floor
Thrashing and kicking
God sat.
Unflinching, watching
And let me continue
I hurled abuse and blame,
Daring Him to respond
So I could smash His argument
God sat.
Patiently, silent,
And let me continue
Finally, when I had spent my
Anger and frustration,
I cried.
Only then did He move.
Taking me gently in His arms,
God sat, crying with me.
copyright Alan Barrett
RABBIT HABIT
Today my dog annoyed me,
he chased another rabbit.
but I suppose it’s better
than licking his bum –
a most disgusting habit!
© Alan Barrett
HEAD
Quarters
Wind
Band
Line
Fast
Butt
Case
Cheese Sail Land
Strong
Square
Shrink
Bang
Gear Lock
Light
Room Board
Away
Phones Rest
Down Teacher
Rail
Set
Off
Stand Waiter Stone
Man Scarf
Way
Ache
Hunt
First
Piece
Less
© Alan Barrett
commisioned as part of an
exhibition
called HOMAGE aimed at highlighting
the forgotten innocents of
war whose
suffering was, and is, as
a direct result
of genocide, racial hatred
or simply
being in the wrong place
at the wrong time.
TEARS OF A CLOWN
Tiers
of enjoyment
Engulfing
the theatre seats
Abounding
with smudged mascara
Running
with tears, rescued from
Surely
missed sorrow, to sorely mist
Optics.
The buffoon watches, and smiles;
Fulsome
applause welcomes continued banter.
All
conquering jester, storyteller to
Cloud
even the most abhorrent memory
Left
by life. He who laughs last
Often
laughs alone, and cries,
When
allowed, for memories
None
care to hear.
copyright - Alan Barrett
JUST ONE MISTAKE
Just one mistake – to fall in love
Or love as she once told herself
Should always be
Just one mistake – to tell the boy
A man he has to now become
For two are three
The tears burn – a river flows
From cheek to chin, the boy once kissed
So tenderly.
A broken heart – to match the promise
The boy had made, and now a man
He’ll never be.
The burden grows – and now alone
She has to face the shock and pain
The looks of pity, scorn, disdain
And listen to the old refrain
Of love disguised as anger –
- wounding her again.
copyright - Alan Barrett
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