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.
Hold’em high
Soldiers march across the great divide, holding up their torches high.
Fighting back the encompassing night.
They march shoulder to shoulder, across the sky.
They cannot win. But still they fight.
Each year their numbers greater.
More torches bring more light.
Some are broken; can’t hold their torches straighter.
Others march with all their might.
No rest for the dead, hoisting their mast
as they hold their torches high.
Death knows no cast,
when you meet Davey Jones of the sky.
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Posted by Chico’s Mom | November 3, 2025, 8:44 AMI love the imagery, Jolene!
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Posted by crazy4yarn2 | November 3, 2025, 2:59 PMThank you 💕
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Posted by Chico’s Mom | November 3, 2025, 4:28 PM“Each year their numbers greater.” Yeah, you don’t get to go A. W. O. L. from this army. Thanks for sharing, Jolene!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | November 3, 2025, 7:57 PMThank you for the prompt.
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Posted by Chico’s Mom | November 3, 2025, 8:56 PMLikeLiked by 2 people
Posted by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris | November 3, 2025, 9:08 AMJust lovely, Ami!
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Posted by crazy4yarn2 | November 3, 2025, 3:01 PMThank you so much!! ☺️
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Posted by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris | November 5, 2025, 11:08 PMLovely image ❤️https://poetisatinta.wordpress.com/2025/11/03/red-whispers/
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Posted by poetisatinta | November 3, 2025, 1:27 PMLovely, Ange!
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Posted by crazy4yarn2 | November 3, 2025, 3:03 PMAnd a lovely haiku to match. Thanks for sharing, Ange!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | November 3, 2025, 8:04 PMThank you 💕
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Posted by poetisatinta | November 4, 2025, 4:24 AMred s dawn sailor s morning warning
red s dawn sunset a blessing
for tomorrow!
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Posted by utahan15 | November 3, 2025, 1:31 PMI always think of that saying when the sky is a brilliant red. Thank you for sharing!
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Posted by crazy4yarn2 | November 3, 2025, 3:05 PMNice take on the ancient mariner’s rhyme. Thanks for sharing!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | November 3, 2025, 8:07 PMblood red clouds
ominous, frightening
devil’s work?
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Posted by rugby843 | November 3, 2025, 2:42 PMGood question!
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Posted by crazy4yarn2 | November 3, 2025, 3:05 PMA seasonally appropriately sinister haiku. Thanks for sharing, Cheryl!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | November 3, 2025, 8:10 PMFading Light
Autumn wants to fall asleep.
She closes curtains on the sun.
I must hurry down this path
before the darkness haunts me.
This path is strewn with colored leaves
that hide the way I’m going.
The clouds ignore me, they don’t care.
This is the time of dying.
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Posted by crazy4yarn2 | November 3, 2025, 2:56 PMLovely in a disturbing way. Thanks for sharing, Nolcha!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | November 3, 2025, 8:12 PMThank you, Bart! This poem wouldn’t be if not for your prompt!
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Posted by crazy4yarn2 | November 4, 2025, 6:51 AMThis is brilliant, such an evocative piece ❤️!
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Posted by utopicdystopian | November 7, 2025, 4:33 AMThere are no volcanoes
on this land I live
no fire fountains
burning the sky
blossoms of rock
shatters of new glass
raining incandescence
no blue haze obscures
my green valley floor
out my window
oh but firefall we have
not pushed off the cliff
but running rivers
painting the ceiling
in undulous vermillion
no warmth on the day’s last
downslope breezes
in the moments of ebb flow
as the guards switch
for yet another day
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Posted by Chris Clarke | November 3, 2025, 5:45 PMLove the “undulous vermillion”!!! Great work. Thanks for sharing, Chris!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | November 3, 2025, 8:15 PMSuch a beautifully fluid poem!!
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Posted by utopicdystopian | November 4, 2025, 3:53 AMI love this, Chris!
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Posted by crazy4yarn2 | November 4, 2025, 6:52 AMDeclaration
At sunsets or sometimes at dawn
the flesh of the sky glows
that kind of light which warns
or warms
foreboding to some
comforting to others
as a billion breaths mingle,
mix, blend, bless into prayer
a single keening plea,
no sounds just loud colors
forcing life to live…
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Posted by utopicdystopian | November 4, 2025, 3:13 AM👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻
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Posted by crazy4yarn2 | November 4, 2025, 6:53 AMLove it! Especially the “flesh of the sky” glowing. Thanks for sharing!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | November 4, 2025, 5:09 PMShadow Love
Purple is always shadowing the red
Its way of saying I love you
across the sky, from inside the clouds
wisping, wishing, spanning,
panning gold, copper, sun, light,
hopes, dreams, prayers, joy
at last, alas, they last
only a few moments
like fireworks of a Godly kind…
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Posted by utopicdystopian | November 4, 2025, 3:42 AMThese are my favorite lines:
at last, alas, they last
only a few moments
like fireworks of a Godly kind…
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Posted by crazy4yarn2 | November 4, 2025, 6:54 AMThank you!!
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Posted by utopicdystopian | November 5, 2025, 12:49 AMAnother good one! I like the idea of panning gold from the sky. Well done!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | November 4, 2025, 5:10 PMThank you for the prompts! They’re my resuscitation!!
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Posted by utopicdystopian | November 5, 2025, 12:49 AMSo glad. I’ve missed reading your work.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | November 5, 2025, 2:24 PMLikeLiked by 1 person
Posted by Melissa Lemay | November 10, 2025, 6:13 PMI think the “note in the vestry” could be reformatted into a poem that stands on its own. Thanks for sharing!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | November 10, 2025, 9:47 PM