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.
She ran
ponytail swishing
left
then right
and then left again
her skin glowing
under blustery October skies
a picture of eternal youth
I sat inside
physics book
my constant companion
at a table unused
next to the piano
by the large windows
overlooking the practice field
where she holds court
I wish I could say hello
say anything to her
this apparition
this graceful Helen
words fail
when they could do the most good
hands grasp to write but are struck down
a mind stricken with sudden aphasia
can conjure no charm to her heart
or even
to hello
But at the piano
my hands move on the keys
without thought
without care
a muse tapping out
an emotional landscape
where words cannot reach
and paint infinity
a life
an entire life
with her
I look up and see
a now empty field
Helen gone
back to Troy
second floor
But my heart is filled
with joy
a vision
a lifetime of love
unstained by reality
unconstrained by what could be
and know a true love
that can never be taken away
as she danced with my fingers
flowing freely
in an embrace of sound
we make together
Living Poetry 
Motorcycle to the Opera
I’m going back to Italy when I am reborn
young, supple and super cute,
straddling a motocicletta
behind Adonis in an Armani suit
The fragrance of shampoo in my face
his hard waist beneath my palms,
I going back to Italy for
dolce lussurioso earthly balm
I’m going back to Italy
where the old women wear black
live to be one hundred and six
growing roses in the cul de sac
I’m going back to Italia
to eat grapes from the vine
to have them cambia il mio cuore
deep inside to ruby wine
To roam the Tuscan hills
and find Assisi’s cave
where he sits in remorse
for all the sins he craved
I will call him from the hills
my arms laden with newborn lambs,
birds about my head, dea dell’amore,
I going back to Italy dressed in red
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Posted by ts19page | August 29, 2022, 11:46 AMLovely imagery and a great use of all the senses. Well done!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | August 29, 2022, 8:12 PMCinquain
this could
only be french
sad plaintiff whimsy sounds
like saturday afternoon in
winter
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Posted by Rall | August 30, 2022, 1:31 AMLove the simile. Great work!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | August 30, 2022, 4:50 PMOctober11, 1983
She ran
ponytail swishing
left
then right
and then left again
her skin glowing
under blustery October skies
a picture of eternal youth
I sat inside
physics book
my constant companion
at a table unused
next to the piano
by the large windows
overlooking the practice field
where she holds court
I wish I could say hello
say anything to her
this apparition
this graceful Helen
words fail
when they could do the most good
hands grasp to write but are struck down
a mind stricken with sudden aphasia
can conjure no charm to her heart
or even
to hello
But at the piano
my hands move on the keys
without thought
without care
a muse tapping out
an emotional landscape
where words cannot reach
and paint infinity
a life
an entire life
with her
I look up and see
a now empty field
Helen gone
back to Troy
second floor
But my heart is filled
with joy
a vision
a lifetime of love
unstained by reality
unconstrained by what could be
and know a true love
that can never be taken away
as she danced with my fingers
flowing freely
in an embrace of sound
we make together
LikeLiked by 1 person
Posted by Chris Clarke | August 31, 2022, 12:34 AMA lovely scene. The best muse is the one you never actually meet.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | August 31, 2022, 5:57 PMI Agree with Bartholomew, lovely scene, and the muse once met is just another ….woman.
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Posted by ts19page | August 31, 2022, 8:02 PM