This week let’s write a ache poem. Let’s get visceral. We’ve all experienced aches before. Maybe we’re aching right now. Write about it! Really get into the sensation, show us the ache, make us feel it too. For bonus points, make it a metaphor for something.
I’m aching to see some poetry posted 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 
Ache
Honestly, I’m not THAT old.
My neck is stiff.
My back groans.
My legs are tired.
Skinned dried out from winter blues.
My eye lids are heavy. Work coffee! Work!
That’s not a hot air balloon. It’s just my head.
My sinuses bleed.
My eyes are watering.
Can’t kill the ringing in my ear!
Moan!
Groan!
Yet I carry on.
The only things that don’t ache are my finger tips.
I think the bears got it right.
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Posted by Chico’s Mom | December 8, 2025, 8:38 AMGlad your fingertips are still functioning so the poetry isn’t painful. Thanks for sharing, Jolene!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | December 8, 2025, 8:00 PMThank you 💕
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Posted by Chico’s Mom | December 9, 2025, 8:08 AMLikeLike
Posted by crazy4yarn2 | December 8, 2025, 2:22 PMI had to temporarily remove my poem from my blog because I submitted it to an anthology. Here it my poem:
Alone for the Holidays
I watch the people bundled up
in coats, and scarves, and mittens.
The snow and ice frost beards and lips.
All Christmas joy is frozen.
Still, the shopping must be done
before the trees are trimmed.
Then friends and family gather round
and ache for Christmas’ end.
As for me, I’m happy hiding
in the library stacks.
I cozy up with books I love
and copious rounds of schnapps.
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Posted by crazy4yarn2 | December 8, 2025, 5:39 PMWell done, Nolcha! Love the frosted beards and lips. Good luck with the submission.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | December 8, 2025, 8:03 PMThanks so much, Bart! Merry Christmas to you!
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Posted by crazy4yarn2 | December 8, 2025, 9:07 PMhttps://bartbarkerpoet.com/2025/12/08/stuck/
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | December 8, 2025, 10:59 PMHolding Faith For Both Of Us
I see her tears and feel each one
Her quiet pain becomes my own
If I could lift the weight she bears
Even for a day, free her from cares
I would offer her the peace she longs for
A calm her weary spirit waits to restore
I know that God sees every tear
He hears her questions rising near
Her faith grows thin beneath the strain
She yearns to see to trust again
Yet faith is not built on what we see
Doubt comes when belief fights to be free
A wandering heart, a soul that aches
Still searching for the path it takes
So I will hold the faith for two
Praying with hope in all we go through
And wait for the promised gentle day
When God will take her pain away
Willie Torres Jr.
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Posted by Willie Torres Jr. | December 9, 2025, 1:28 AMVery sweet. Thanks for sharing, Willie!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | December 9, 2025, 7:00 PM