the price of memories

what outside influence

intrudes upon us surreptitiously

stealthily

stealing our breath like carbon monoxide

letting us do something we don’t want to

explain 

as the soaring price of

precious metals seeps into our consciousness

heirlooms have found their way

reversing the gold rush

to pawn shops

coin dealers

hotel lobbies

instead of into jewelry boxes

dresser drawers of nieces

or nephews 

no dust or danger

no pack horse or partner

searching for Sutter’s Mill

just a paved strip mall parking lot

and a sandwich bag of rings, lockets, chains

the remains, the props of the past

the stuff of personal history 

more than gold traded but

the memories weigh easy

on the digital scale

the tipping point, the balance

some logic that someone else

would just stake their claim 

after we’re gone 

Barry DeCarli

April 12, 2012

Copyright 2012 Barry DeCarli

like father, like son

wanting to pour poetry
from a bottle
of Pinot Grigio
to uncork the perfect pairing
of words and emotion
in an untitled document
trying to escape the collision
of headache and hope with
the right metaphor
stoking my muse there in the wine
my poem scrapes against the easiness
of inkjet black on white

he stood unsteadily
the car was his vehicle
driven with a practiced recklessness
he sought to slake a more primal thirst
I never understood
as the bourbon burned his throat
then softly drenched
his drought of dreams
for a while he found forgiveness
fulfillment there in the bottle

his Oldsmobile keyed with barbed wire
while taking out the farmer’s fence

there was nothing easy about his poetry
of rubber and speed
steel and noise

Barry DeCarli
April 15, 2010 (6)
Copyright 2010 Barry DeCarli

like a ghost

like an invisible cloud
I sneak across your life
like a ghost
with no place to haunt
I watch and remember
secret handshakes
and passwords
I gaze through your days
and nights
unseen
I linger just near enough
to dream again
then
like a whisper of wind
I say goodbye unheard
unseen
like a ghost
I'm gone

Barry DeCarli
From Of Sun And Rain
Copyright 1972 Barry DeCarli

close encounters

I saw no planes today

expecting Air Force One

such an empty blue sky welcome

to the Green Mountain state 

a good run again in winter gear

but I felt sure

I was missing something

maybe a chance

to glimpse history 

in November ’63 I escaped seeing  JFK

from the too crowded room in a New York hotel

as the elevator pinged “up”

I peered back one last time 

in ’81 as the Secret Service looked on

I shook George Herbert Walker’s hand

in the Holy City of Charleston

in ’95 I bypassed security unknowingly

walking through a Burlington bank lobby

was searched, questioned and

delayed just long enough to miss Clinton 

today the best I could have done

would have been  to stand on the curb

in proximity to history

waving at big black cars with flags on their fenders

hoping for a glimpse of Obama 

instead

I ran my regular four miles

on a brisk clear morning

ate a bowl of cereal

and typed these words

as history passed by without me 

Barry DeCarli

March 30, 2012

Copyright 1012 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

untitled

her pillow

still warm
was so empty
I could trace her
footsteps
to
the
door
as she
tiptoed

goodbye

Barry DeCarli
From Of Sun And Rain
Copyright 1972 Barry DeCarli

under tents

under tents, mud huts

beneath skyscrapers

in parks, in dreams

sometimes with just the wind to warn them

or a shadow against a wall

or a whisper

amidst the tumultuous thunder of war

those intent on peace 

will not hide forever

Barry DeCarli

March 21, 2012

Copyright 2012 Barry DeCarli