Eventide

My fellow Living Poet Chris Abbate held a germination workshop tonight, so I present one of the poems I wrote there as today’s poem-a-day.

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Eventide

The setting sun light glints
off the bottom of pine needles
as I walk off the frustrations
of another working from home day.

A broken beer bottle crunches
in the dirt. It would have sliced
my foot if not for shoes.
I curse my fellow man to the crickets

and bend to save the next bare paw
that happens this way then cut
my finger, sharp without pain,
smelling iron, earth within skin.

That’ll teach me to pick up
after inconsiderate idiots.

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About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in the Triangle region of North Carolina where he has hosted a monthly feedback workshop for more than decade. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he lives and writes poetry.
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4 Responses to Eventide

  1. JeanMarie's avatar JeanMarie says:

    Good poem. Bad bottle.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Lisa Tomey-Zonneveld's avatar Lisa Tomey says:

    Excellent poem! Heal well and for critters sake much gratitude.

    Liked by 1 person

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