Wednesday, December 25, 2013


ice symphony (draft)

Christmas morning’s first dim light
brought  a thunderous welcome
or frigid warning as the pond sang out
its frozen winter song
like the recorded symphony of whales
this primordial music of ice’s
tectonic meandering
woke man and beast
with its release of energy
 
the sleek icy surface seemed to struggle
to keep water and sky apart
the low hum and staccato notes were witness
to the cracking, the fracturing
that spread erratically like lightning
against a background of twinkling candles
across the pond and back again
 

Barry DeCarli
December 25, 2013
Goshen, MA
© 2013 Barry DeCarli


Friday, April 19, 2013

hope


can it survive 

where is it
in the deaths
of Martin Richard
Krystle Campbell
Lu Lingzi 

where is it
among the twisted, torn
and broken limbs
the riddled bodies
the amputations 

in the aftermath
of tragedy
in the bloodied fingers
and knees
the held hands 

in the resounding anthem
at a hockey game
 
in the act of a new Pope
cleansing and kissing
the feet of men, women
and Muslims 

is it in a prayer
sent out
across a violent sky
to the imagined
face of God
and in a Neil Diamond song
or in a YouTube video
of a dancing queen 

is it found
in other countries
where bomb blasts
are as ordinary
as thunder
and hunger
where resignation
would be
easier 

can it be found
sometimes
in the wrong
places
in the midst of carnage
and crying
blood and glass 

after  the unfathomable loss
shock and senselessness
will we pick the bones
of grief
to find it
there 

Barry DeCarli
Aril 19, 2013
©Barry DeCarli 2013


Wednesday, March 13, 2013


Peeps & popes
 

the day of the month nearly the Ides
when a network soothsayer chides
‘tis the season of Peeps and popes
when it’s harder to sleep than it is to hope
winding down as up the chimney smokes
at the feeder another  cardinal pokes
but mostly yellow, the covered marshmallow
celebrates on the surface without a halo
rebirth at a time when fewer believe
a bunch of old men who can’t help but deceive
but still a long shot the cardinal’s speak
white smoke that rises past the seagull’s beak
but my wager’s on the Just Born Peep
with sugary taste its promise to keep 

Barry DeCarli
March 13, 2013
©2013 Barry DeCarli