My Dear Mr. Clemens

Posted on 2015/11/03 by Bartholomew Barker

“Don’t go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.” – Mark Twain

My Dear Mr. Clemens

Am I not part of this world?
Was I not born of the earth?
As my fathers and their fathers
For a hundred thousand generations

I fill my niche eating fruit
From the tree of knowledge
Spitting out the seeds while I laugh
At the beauty of life

I walk through the woods
Plucking burrs from my clothes
Selecting the next generation
Of prey with my tools

Do I owe my fingernails a living?
Blood flows to nourish each
They grow and are clipped
Like the generations of man

About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker is one of the organizers of Living Poetry, a collection of poets and poetry lovers in the Triangle region of North Carolina. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.

View all posts by Bartholomew Barker →

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged mark twain, samuel clemens. Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to My Dear Mr. Clemens

Little Monster Girl says:

2015/11/04 at 00:05

Beautiful!

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- Bartholomew Barker says:
  
  2015/11/04 at 09:00
  
  Thank you very much. You certainly understand beauty so I respect your opinion.
  
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  - Little Monster Girl says:
    
    2015/11/04 at 09:58
    
    That’s very kind of you! Thank you!
    
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Emily Cooper says:

2015/11/08 at 22:33

“Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.”

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- Bartholomew Barker says:
  
  2015/11/08 at 23:10
  
  And yet naked women have undue influence over men.
  
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