Author Archives: Bartholomew Barker

About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker was born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough, North Carolina where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.

The Language of Touch

Posted on 2019/10/15

The Language of Touch Our fingers whisper— trace thin skin, sympathetic nerves, compassionate nails— a graceful discussion of analog thoughts. We’re watching something that I’m ignoring. Sitting by your side, not gazing into your eyes. I’d rather eavesdrop on our … Continue reading →

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October Heatwave Haiku

Posted on 2019/10/03

Rusted leaves recoil Landing on scorching pavement October heatwave (The high temperature today was 98F/36C.)  

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Peek My Curiosity

Posted on 2019/09/25

Peek My Curiosity If her top slips a button and I glimpse white lace, I must time my glances to seem to keep eye contact. When helped from a car, if her skirt rides up, revealing a delicate curve of … Continue reading →

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Pre-Modern

Posted on 2019/09/02

We erected statues to those leaders who inspired or enslaved, back when things got done. There was a kind of progress— armies marched to kill, factories produced and polluted. It was a simpler time, when a nation’s wealth was calculated … Continue reading →

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Duty

Posted on 2019/08/26

Yesterday I hosted a germination workshop for Living Poetry. We had six poets working with eight prompts over two hours. One of the prompts was to write about duty. Duty Even when the words won’t run some days they barely … Continue reading →

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Chana Saag, Hot

Posted on 2019/08/12

Chana Saag, Hot I set fire to my mouth with self delusion, misbelieving I could handle the spice. Water doesn’t put it out it spreads it around like flames and gasoline. Nose running, scalp sweating, lips smouldering. My stomach — … Continue reading →

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Asthma

Posted on 2019/07/30

Asthma More wheezing than breathing, like a blood pressure cuff tightening around my chest. Shoulders clenched to the neck, eyes glassy, diaphragm sore, exhausted from lack of air. More panic than pain, being wrung like a rag. You try relaxing … Continue reading →

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Gerald Ford’s Grave

Posted on 2019/07/18

My summer road trip has been disappointing in the lack of any new ancestral graves and I’ve barely made any progress on my genealogy so I thought I’d go for an easy win. I’ve been collecting Dead Presidents since my … Continue reading →

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I Write Her Weekly Haiku/Senryu Challenge #27

Posted on 2019/07/10

Her sly supple skin painted with welcoming words I’m eager to read   (I follow a lot of poetry blogs and see various challenges floating around but this particular visual prompt by Bill Wadman got my attention, I assume the … Continue reading →

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Astronaut Sonnet

Posted on 2019/07/03

Astronaut Sonnet She floats in orbit around the pole wearing a skintight see-through spacesuit. She scans the club, observing the primitives who slip green paper into her Möbius garter. She doesn’t belong, neither angel nor alien, strutting eight inches above … Continue reading →

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