This week let’s write a shameless poem. We’ve all encountered people in our lives how just don’t seem to feel regret about anything they do. Maybe others think of us that way. There’s no shame in poetry unless it’s badly written. Post your regret-free verse in the comments below.
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.
Living Poetry 
My poem Bart …
“Do You Feel Her Shame?”
Do you feel her shame?
viewing my pain.
Left out again,
in the cold rain.
Do you sense my strain?
watching me drain.
More of the same,
in the cold rain.
Do you see her cry?
in her celestial sky.
Left out to dry,
in the cold she did die.
Do you feel her tears again?
sharing the blame.
I hold her shame,
in the cold rain.
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Posted by ivor20 | October 11, 2021, 7:39 AMPoignant. Well done!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | October 11, 2021, 5:37 PMThank you Bart
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Posted by ivor20 | October 11, 2021, 5:52 PMShameless Me
Shameless blatant misuse and abuse of mother nature’s gifts
Consumerism fuels capitalism fuels consumerism
Fuels natural extinction
Shameless neglect and careless disregard of and for Earths children
in pursuit of wealth and worldly trappings
Reprehensible deportment
Shameless breeding of creatures
small and smaller
great and tall
Developing new colors, new species
Exotic companions
Shameless humanity
given life to prosper
taken and plundered
Emptied her seas of aquatic life
Opulence squandered
Shameless me sitting on the shore
contemplating wastage
hedonistic desecration
Impotent rage
Shameless me
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Posted by GypsieWolf2014 | October 11, 2021, 11:32 AMHear! Hear! Especially that last stanza.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | October 11, 2021, 5:39 PMThank you Bartholomew! 😊
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Posted by GypsieWolf2014 | October 11, 2021, 5:59 PMI ain’t perfect
And nobody is
But I know I ain’t perfect
And it ain’t no shame in that
I know right from wrong
Some times I do right
And some times I do wrong
It is what it is
It was what it was
Life, happens
Done cried over things
that didn’t matter
Done kissed some lips
mine ain’t belong on
Done said some things
I can’t take back
Done went some places
I shouldn’t have been
Done saw some things
I shouldn’t have.
And what I look like crying
over a shattered mirror?
I can’t piece together the past.
The clock already winded past it.
The past doesn’t own me.
I purchased it long ago.
Past mistakes ain’t made me no fool.
They made me the strong,
confident,
courageous,
and intelligent woman
I stand as today.
And it ain’t no shame in that!
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Posted by Mia J | October 11, 2021, 9:10 PMPowerful Mia!
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Posted by GypsieWolf2014 | October 11, 2021, 9:17 PMThank you!
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Posted by Mia J | October 13, 2021, 4:41 PMExcellent! Especially the mirror and clock stanza.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | October 11, 2021, 9:18 PMThank you!
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Posted by Mia J | October 13, 2021, 4:41 PMThis is great. I love these two lines:
The past doesn’t own me.
I purchased it long ago.
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Posted by JeanMarie | October 12, 2021, 1:27 AMThank you!
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Posted by Mia J | October 13, 2021, 4:40 PMMerry go Round of Bones
By injustices researched
we grow to repudiate
memory,
to ride the merry go round of bones.
Those who learn
from errors of the past
feel bound
to repeat them,
We curse our children
with guilt
up from
webby graves.
A Halloween where toddlers receive
macabre treats,
and ghosts
of recrimination roam.
Guilt is a sharpened tool.
Touch me, feel me,
see me,
heal me.
The child, cringing from
crusting blood,
must be taught
to take it on.
We raise shame
and division;
pass down, unalloyed,
the deed.
Sin passed down
is hell subsequent
it burns at stake
each innocent.
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Posted by ts19page | October 15, 2021, 10:17 AMVery nice. Especially the last stanza. And I loved the Tommy reference too. Well done.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | October 15, 2021, 6:28 PMThank you!
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Posted by ts19page | October 16, 2021, 8:46 AMI like to watch TV
Late at night but not afternoon
Fiction, not real life
6
8
5 syllables
There’s no shame in my haiku game.
And that’s the way I roll.
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Posted by JeanMarie | October 15, 2021, 5:19 PMAgreed! Counting syllables is old fashioned.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | October 15, 2021, 6:31 PM