a bridge

there are things

to reconcile

to redeem

to reclaim

and to lose…

the past is racing

to overcome

its own memory

surging recollection

daring today

reach back, reach back

but there are things

to risk

and reasons not to

to stay here today

is the bridge to burn

or to cross

the life we spend is on the span

are we crossing

or going back

Barry DeCarli

Copyright 2010 Barry DeCarli

just two men talking

the bottom of his hood came

with a trapdoor view

hardwood?

nah, laminate, smooth finish

cleans up nice

but plywood

might have sufficed

9 square feet

steel hinges

6 feet 5 inches to meet his fate

doesn’t seem like a long drop

too long for Eva Dugan in 1928

but mostly humane

thank god for that

those short drops were torture

just ¾ of a second

a short hurtle towards earth

to snap vertebrae

without that last torturous dance

the classic hangman’s fracture

ever dream you’re falling?

Oh, yeah, I hate that. Don’t you?

hemp coiled seven times, American style

waxed, soaped and greased

knot positioned near the left ear

a black cotton or denim hood

kindly placed to shield witnesses

from emotional pain

physical distortion

Saddam Hussein refused the hood

to further scar his detractors

the Honorable Isaac Parker sent over 100 men to end of their rope

can you believe it

I did read about him

at least I know the end is here

yeah, there’s that

when one door closes, another door opens 

the heat of her touch

her breath salted

steamy

papaya and mango

just as her nose and lips

nestled

near his left ear

offering

a sensuous gentleness

then the sudden lightness

a dream of flying

Barry DeCarli

March 01, 2010

©2010 Barry DeCarli

Tapestry

 for Finley and Evan

 

there can be no greater sorrow

than this

with its cruel edge tearing the threads

of a tapestry just begun,

but our tears will weave new threads to those cut short

to hold Finley’s place in our hearts

as we remember the brightness of her smile,

the symphony of her laughter,

the clarity of her eyes. 

her beauty and brilliance

will not pale under today’s shadow.

Finley’s memory will be shared as

part of our own stories,

with her dazzling colors running through,

shining light back into our lives.

the threads of Finley’s life

will be woven into the tapestry

of our lives.

there,

her blaze of purple and pink

will shuttle through the fabric of our souls,

lighting our way through this sorrow 

brightening moments of the long days ahead

 

Barry DeCarli

January 6-8, 2014

©2014 Barry DeCarli

 

Barry DeCarli: golden

Barry DeCarli: golden: mostly we bury the body, the bones hair and sinew whether we believe or not, but wanting to that the soul has gone on is not there in ...

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

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

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