Bartholomew Barker

Support the Troops

Do you thank them for their service, those kidnappers who executed illegal orders, abducting a foreign leader? Will you praise the sacrifice of our noble troops when they march in arctic camo through downtown Nuuk, exterminating the Greenlandic threat? Will you salute our…

Fraiku: My To Not Do List

Made a list of things not to do in the new year— checked two off today

2025 Year in Review

January: Found a chapter of weather control spells in an antique book purchased in Scotland sticking snow for first time in years February: Did own research online had expensive backyard pharmacist remove all vaccines from body March: Tried cooking a recipe from scratch tasted…

My Dog Bobo’s at MasticadoresUSA

I'm proud to announce that My Dog Bobo is appearing on MasticadoresUSA today. While he's a little older and a little slower than we wrote this poem, Bobo seemed pleased when I told him about the publication. Of course, he seemed just as pleased when he coughed up…

Fraiku: Unity

Dark side — light side different face every night but just one moon Happy First Day of Kwanzaa!  My fellow poet and blogger, A Cornered Gurl, recently posted a flattering review of my book, Milkshakes & Chilidogs. It's not too late to give one last gift in 2025. Thanks, trE!

Santa’s Coming

I get sent to bed early on Christmas Eve but do not sleep— I suspect they're lying. There's an oaken babydoll cradle hidden, unwrapped in my parents' closet, obviously my gift, obviously crafted by my father the carpenter, obviously not from Santa nor made by elves. But it seems…

Solstice to Solstice

Married under the honey moon, when barely sprouted, we soon fruited and multiplied when days were forever. Learned the wisdom of autumn, as illustrated by the equinox, the need for balance, leaves yellow, hair grays. This morning the birdbath is frozen, hoarfrost reaches to…

Fraiku: Murmurous Dreams

A tornado of starlings writing poetry with wings of ink on the blank page of the sky

If you find my journal

If you find my journal Best keep the clasp tight not for any secrets sitting within (poets don't write those down) but for everything that might spill out A stem of heather picked in the Ring of Brodgar on the winter solstice A credit card receipt from the first date with a…

Fraiku: All I Need in December

Long night stars firm in the firmament mulled wine and you

Stuck

Like snow that doesn't stick I'm waiting for these aches To accumulate into regret over you (For Sammi's Weekend Writing Prompt and Living Poetry's Monday Prompt.)

Fraiku: Fog

Soft as kitten paws It sleeps like a fleece blanket comforting us all

Milkshakes and Chilidogs for the Holidays

If you're looking for a poetic gift this holiday season for the Foodie in your life, may I humbly suggest my chapbook, Milkshakes & Chilidogs. Only $1.99 on Kindle or $5.45 for a physical book.

Fraiku: Gratitude

Feels like a bear hug warmth of a fellow human you're not alone (A further expression of gratitude: my thanks to Barbara Leonhard, editor at MasticadoresUSA for publishing one of my dog poems, I dreamt I was walking my dogs under the light of the moons.

Middle Child

Big brother is impatient for little sister's decorations to come down like a sugar high. He doesn't like her goth aesthetic of black and orange. He'd rather be of good cheer, all bright and flashy. And here I sit between them at the kid's table, avoiding politics to keep the peace.…

The Leaves of Late Autumn

The crescent moon smiles in the twilight as the rain, fresh fallen from the trees, taps out exotic rhythms on our path. Your eyes crinkle when you look at me and I know my luck will run out someday. But until then I will feast on the vision of your face as we walk through…

Fraiku: Pilot Whales

Dance on the slip of an abyss Inspiration below — Willing to fall Just like a poet (Yesterday I attended a talk at the Science Café entitled, How Pilot Whales Make Dinner Plans. During the lecture four Living Poets were writing and at the end we shared our ink-wet poems with…

Fraiku: Just like America

The soup is boiling over burnt to the bottom of the pot leaping into the fire

First Frost

I fluff up my nest and my graying fur, ignore my doctors put on a few pounds, fill the freezer with Impossible burgers and microwave burritos. Night freezes the birdbath, so I lock my doors, secure the shutters but leave one candle burning in a window so solitary travelers know the…

Fraiku: Date Night

Secluded booth Sharing a bottle of wine Dessert to go

The Grave of James Dickey

All cemeteries should have Spanish Moss draped from their trees. This is what I learned while wandering through All Saints Church Cemetery in Pawleys Island, South Carolina. I was searching for the grave of James Dickey, Poet Laureate of the United States. Before…

Life in the Confederacy

The stainless steel is cold in my hand, except for the place touched by my lips where I blew as hard as I could and barely heard a whine. Rabid dogs came running, tails wagging, mouths foaming, ready to vote for anyone promising to hurt folks with a darker skin. Some of my…

Día de los Muertos

We lay an offering on the alter.For great-grandfather Whilum,a trowel encrusted with the earth.For great-grandma Emma,a bowl of butterscotch candy.For grandma Mary,a feed-sack apron.For grandpa Boppi,a dancing harmonica.For my father Peter,another flashlight magnetic and…

Fraiku: Between Worlds

In the graveyard, mist rises under the moonlight as the veil draws thin.

Hansel

She slinks over to me sitting at the bar, touches my arm, twirls her red hair, asks about my job and family. Tells me she loves to bake. Her oven is always hot. Calls me cute and with a wink says she just wants to eat me up. Says I should come for dinner, which I do. Her cottage deep in the…

Canis Redivivus! at MasticadoresUsa

I am pleased to announce that my old poem Canis Redivisus! is up on MasticadoresUsa as part of their pet poetry series. Don't worry, only the title is in Latin. Here's the first stanza: My dog sleeps like a beach towel drying in the sun after a vibrant afternoon…

Trick or Treat

I've done my own research, the evidence is overwhelming. It need not be cataloged here. Donald Trump is just a character played by a comedian in a fat-suit. The ludicrous comb-over and orange makeup should have been enough for us to realize this, but his performance enraged and…

They’ll Say They Didn’t Know They Were Nominated

I am proud, thrilled and most of all honored to announce that my poem, They'll Say They Didn't Know, was nominated for a Pushcart Prize by the Chaos Section Poetry Project. The initial version of They'll Say They Didn't Know was written to one of…

Fraiku: Ripped from the Headlines

Trump wrecks White House. No need for metaphor. Life becomes parody. (East Wing of White House reduced to rubble as part of Trump’s ballroom construction)

Conversations with My Father, Nevermore

Don't worry, my dad's still alive. I merely chose that provocative title because two of my poems were published today. Conversations with My Father has been posted at the wonderful Lothlorien Poetry Journal. Thank you, Strider! Here's the first stanza: These…