Barry DeCarli: the masters

Barry DeCarli: the masters:  how they stumbled   upon their insight   conjured the words to  contrive a common language   what amazing things   they imagined, creat...

fragile

fragile seems

such a fragile word

like life

like earth

like love 

handle with care

be careful

don’t bend

or crush 

fragile seems

such a fragile word

like tears

like friend

like touch 

handle with care

don’t drop

don’t kick

use no hooks 

fragile seems

such a fragile word

too delicate

a warning

to matter too much 

Barry DeCarli

© 2012 Barry DeCarli

election 2012

 

across the chasm of belief

and disbelief

through that fabricated mist 

against the red face of anger

beneath the blue flame of hope

and the reluctant reach of change 

the soul of a nation has spoken 

Barry DeCarli

November 7, 2012

© 2012 Barry DeCarli

family

 

what of that uncle

he only thought about

visiting but never did

always remembering the smooth

rides in his Cadillac that

were so different than the bumping

jostling adventures

riding in his father’s Ford

and his uncle’s bellowing, baritone

provocations at Christmas

there was no arguing

only resignation in response

but he sure could fix TVs 

what can he fix with these

mismatched words

square pegs in round holes

no Phillips screwdriver to drive home

an apology, an explanation

no child’s toy, no Chocobaby here

to ignite laughter

to extinguish disappointment

on both sides 

he imagines his mother’s disappointment

a grandmother’s dismay

at this estrangement, this separation

but who can say

who can talk a way out of this

adult, or child grown into an adult 

who, if anyone

can be big enough to fashion

the escape from this trap of pride

this mess of misunderstanding

which generation will blink

ending this distant stand-off

who will flinch, hold hubris at bay

and reach out

or who will just walk away

never looking back

ignoring regret, love 

uncle or niece 

Barry DeCarli

February 10, 2012

Copyright 2012 Barry DeCarli

 

funeral

first feeling the heat of emotion
tears flowing
being held back
a choked-up gratitude
a misplaced relief
that the dirge
the solemn music is not for you

shaking sweaty hands
kissing blurry-eyed faces
rouged cheeks grazing
stale perfume stealing breath

touching but distantly
waiting for the open air
the cumulus shadows
the shafts of god light
through the pines
a last prayer in the cemetery
then a chance to have a drink
loosen a tie, wipe off smeared make-up
proffer a smile

dare to laugh…

Barry DeCarli
August 13, 2010
Copyright 2010 Barry DeCarli

right to farm 

the rooster crows unpredictably

morning and afternoon

sunrise to sunset

sometimes after 

farm equipment for planting

for harvesting forms two rust-pocked rows

of red, green and white

lettered Farmall, John Deere, Massey-Ferguson

even one grey Ford

faded, quiet and waiting 

the herd of Holsteins

loaded last week in rattling metal trailers

for a panicked ride to some industrial dairy

the driver unacquainted with the work

of Temple Grandin

there is no market for the rooster

or his incessant hollering

but still no time to sleep

for this 4^th generation farmer

finally idle in the hours before dawn

turning over fields in his mind

imagining the end of

that  mocking wake-up call

as the ax slams down 

with the finality of the auctioneer’s gavel 

Barry DeCarli

September 4, 2010 & July 1, 2012

©2012 Barry DeCarli

listen 

a quiet one

remembers speaking

remembers not being heard

words dismissed

ignored by pre-emption

a louder voice

something more interesting

by plain rudeness

even the whisper was lost

in resistance to repeat

what was unheard 

now

when his voice dares

the scarcity of his words

attracts an audience 

the hushed silence

is theirs 

Barry DeCarli

June 12, 2012

©2012 Barry DeCarli