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As found at ARTVILLA.COM Proud to be found at http://artvilla.com/wordplay/index.php?s=chris+barnes&submit=Search DR CHRIS BARNES; POET, INTERDISCIPLINARY
EDUCATOR AND SCIENTIST, RADIO AND ELECTRONCIS ENGINEER, INVENTOR AND
ENVIRONMENTAL RESEARCHER. CHRIS IS A PUBLISHED POET WITH WORK IN SEVERAL ANCHOR BOOKS
AND WORK IN AESTHETICA MAGAZINE. http://www.aestheticamagazine.com |
I would like to say a special
thank you to David M. Jackson (Dave) of Artvilla.com for introducing me to his
community.
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OTHER CHRIS BARNES’ SITES CLICK THE LINKS! Weird
Lines in your sky see http://www.btinternet.com/~gmbarnes/atmosphere.htm Scientific
consultancy http://www.drchrisbarnes.co.uk/,
Education http://www.teacherhelpme.com/, Curriculum
vitae preparation http://www.cvs4u.co.uk/, HAM RADIO http://gw4bzd.co.uk/, LOCAL TEACHING AND TUITION http://www.btinternet.com/~gmbarnes/BANGORTUTORS.htm
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Poetry writing
service poetry for special occasions contact Chris by email at chrisbarnespoet@yahoo.co.uk |
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POETRY CONTEST for details email
to poemwritingcompetition@yahoo.co.uk |
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I was thinking how Whatever your creed or religious persuasion or even
if you have none don’t you think it is a shame that there are no longer any ‘quiet’
special days left in the calendar? This Easter we drove to sacred the
site, This Easter we joined the
congregation, This Easter we gave to charitable
collection, This Easter we heard their many
ministries, This Easter we had collective
expectation Of sure rebirth and certain
resurrection, Not ours but theirs, all
their worthy wares Old clocks chimed and old pews
shone In weak vernal sun, next to faded
kids clothes After gambling good Friday, this
Easter We bought and sold on boot-sale Sunday. It has been a long hard winter, Spring is just
around the corner Easter daffodils and blossoms are early again in the Emphasising my thoughts on how people should pull
together This Easter Poem by This Easter I will pray Because research shows Those who pray are happier Than those who Don’t and God knows the news we Watch day by day by day Of a fucked-
up planet Pompous people and Degenerating society And like Christ on the Cross, this World at the Cross-roads in its crucifixion asks are we forsaken and why? Time then for transformation Take the bull by the horns Lay differences of race, Colour, caste and creed apart Feel the love of human hearts As caring consciousness imparts Bold, brand-
new transfigured start. Autumn 2007 Whilst out walking the other day I guess you could
say I had a mystical experience, like the weather, I felt calmer, more at ease, more at peace,
more content with my lot than for a long, long time. Since them some amazingly
good things have started to happen in my life. I wrote this poem because I wanted to
express how that positive energy might flow into others if they would accept
it, yet it ends with the expression of sadness that far too many people
choose to turn away from good and kindness and adopt warring or arrogant
stances in their Everyday approach to life. Autumn Day Poem by Let meditative connection
commence Let universal peace descend Let troubled minds make amends As we reap rustic autumn day Its gentle breezes’ random
caress God’s true caring, calming
breath Breathes overwhelming hope Upon troubled earth below Chaos silenced, storms subside Earthquakes end, wars replaced By peace, positively and
paradise From the brink we slowly slide By prodigy, prediction, elusion Karma thoughts fade, subside Since many choose the rougher
ride. Chrisbarnespoet September2007 EASTER TREE POEM BY CHRIS BARNES APRIL 2007 Christ Rise again Resurrection
of poet Resurrection
of plants Resurrection of
peace Resurrection
of plans Resurrection
of palms Resound Rebirth Reform Restore Recycle Rekindle Resurrection
of love October 2006 Poetry New students land in town!!!! Still on a skateboarding theme!!!! Skateboarders’ side-walk Scenes quite surreal suddenly take my gaze Poignantly intellectually awkward decisions Await expectant onlooker Which most captivates; subway or hyperspace? This alley so chic, brimming with
exhibitionist graffiti, Where a guy topped with head like cross Between pink Buddha and All and any onlookers sort of out of it Devoid of reality, abstracted from action Like a whiff of visual
super-skunk merging Backgrounds, then you glimpse him drawing
them in Top right, centre-stage and up a bit Neuronal perception scores the hit, While the guy in hyperspace beckons; Limbs now part company, board crisply cuts the warp. By Sidewalk O2: Lay-persons’ perception of routine skateboarding act. Alluring with Precarious positivistic poise This guy’s balance disrupts the Fulcrum Of my mind Which Hijacked gazes Upon board, angled legs, and, Arched spine While arms are Cantilevers, Skateboarders’ trait Or higher design? Board in foreground, railings behind, Both in curvatures Of warped Space-time Giving birth to Quartet of freely hanging wheels Ezekiel’s chariot blazes past In sheen easily Unseen, as Finally my head Removed From fantasy Cocks in heartfelt Appreciation Of fast unfolding scene Of steps
steeped in history Brave comrades rode Afore; Brash acts compliment Brash railings And Affluent glass tower block To rear, As you pray for present One’s survival Down helter-skelter route, Like all time Were A circle He will reach ground He will survive And live to see yet another hum-drum day. July Poetry
A little late again
due to pressure of work! We are all gripped by
the shock of terrible events unfolding in the In an appeal for both
sides to recall their real ‘roots’ and start loving each other we bring you Grief’s Duality Grief’s Duality: Poem by Grief is tragic- all
consuming Overwhelming life itself Yet grief has closure, mercy, Termination in transience Distorted for the un-dead
father Catatonic shell of former
self Cursed disaster lacking verbal vitality, Mind trapped –milked of verbal
wealth; Today when I
was ‘blue man’ Girded in
similar hue, dawned
truth Long since flown with frustration Fickle diagnosis now rampant whim While ‘purple men’
visited hospital ward ‘Snooker men and
professionals’ Nursed him homeward to ‘awaiting’ wife His former life condensed; years as seconds
–flash by Replayed
deja-vus in empty husk Recognised yet not
recognising A death mask prematurely smiling From eyes old-not yet
cold Outwardly channelling A-for Alzheimer’s Cruel reality, this is grief’s
duality. Copyright Chrisbarnespoet Poetry of the month
May 2006 Spring is finally
here in many parts of Some
believe poetry originates from a divine source The
universal divine source inspires all things Good ‘Good
crosses the boundaries of nations and unites those who ascribe to different belief
systems-good denigrates those who prophet
for profit’ This month
therefore (a little belated due to pressures of academic work) we bring you ‘Good
Poem’ Good poem by They can destroy God or discredit gods, Blame him or them for wars between nations, Make atheistic curses when food is rationed Or when plagues descend like aids or dengue. Damage Jesus’ reputation, reminding us coldly Lazarus was just doped not dead at some
historic party, Stealing hope or riddling resurrection With n-dimensional multiple regression As quantum science meets ageing theism, But they simply can’t take good! Good is our god, good in
all its guises Good binds husbands with
fidelity to wives Good saves lost souls and
little children’s lives Good gives love and
self-sacrifices Good gives caring, caress and kindness Good gives thoughtfulness and truthfulness, Good gives honesty, humility and intellect Good reconciles and
repairs So Jesus meets Buddha and the two agree That good is not a belief system manipulated By elders, clerics, rich and famous or
aristocracy Through good all religions and atheists see Good is inherently the best gift and free Transcending creed and colour- mere
mortality, Good ascribes its force even sub-molecularly. Good thoughts transform the face of water As life blood’s quantum icicles flicker bathed
in beauty, Because of good great things are possible Like peace and
tranquillity, travelling To all destinies devoid of evil and malice Mightily this world will drink from
new chalice. A cup called Good, a glass of everlasting
peace People will see true God of twenty first
century The same so simply good for and within every
person, The power of the internet will loosen the
food The poet has not given a puzzle to elude Good is a synchronous vibration, It’s yours or my now for the taking, Test it try it every
nation It’s just hunger, evil and war you’ll be
forsaking. .
Copyright ChrisBarnespoet The purer the Poetry the more balanced the symmetry when the Poem
is centered on the page I experiment
with this concept by channeling myself in an almost trance like meditative
state before I compose poetry , I always compose using standard left –hand
justification and then centre the text to see what happens Similar
coherent symmetry and pattern can sometimes be seen in the output spectrum Of an
ELF RADIO Receiver if a waterfall display is used Some
would say these are the natural Schumann Resonances of GAIA Or the
Calming voice of God soothing the madness of this seething planet as many have
come to know it Winter was crueller this year For plants in my garden Chilled by the snows For those out there Huddled in tents After earthquakes In For old ladies Bruised by ice In the name Of teen snowballing Oh such fun Oh so nice But stop Spoiling for fights. So we can Change the World if we try Can change it then If we care Enough to recycle And be People people And share And take the time To talk and understand Our fellow man Forgive the political Incorrectness Here but I didn’t Vote for that lot Anyway Having your Say takes Apathy away And lets The giver of hope Have a say As tiny coherent Bells of synchrony And people empathy Ring out world wide Soothing simple spirit An Easter Christ Crying curb war And madness Overwhelming sadness Such that we Wipe tears From the eyes Of the poor and Oppressed let them Share gladness with Us more blessed World History That’s just the rest March 2006 Logging Things are better now
there’s gas I oft look back on that
icy blast From our poor parochial past Days of a certain lower caste. Today I’d frown aghast At lunatic notions like
–logging Not in the flight of lumberjacks But nevertheless with a
nodule Of nostalgia in the knowledge That those were the days When bills got delayed But brought pleasure too As young son and I in Deep snow we sleighed and played, He not knowing how close
was dad To nervous annihilation, Physically prolapsed
crippled collapse As the sacks we dragged Broke my will and back, While windfalls were a
bonus Often meaning one less
stroke Of our ageing old bow-saw Smartly saving hands To sign cheques to pay mortgage bills Before eviction day. Those were the days certain snowy days March daffodils poked precarious Delicate heads on bent necks Sheltering ‘gainst rotting wooden shed By crumbling Welsh cottage or old mill Days of winter chills
cruel and cold A common life with loving wife Toiling in equal strife stoking three fires Forever no real frills
nor forecast Of future freedom fame or fortune Nor
recalled crucifixion on a different hill. Copyright Chrisbarnespoet Children’s Poem of the Month Sale of the century poem by I’m an alien from planet zog Don’t know the difference Between cat and dog I’m an alien from planet zog Don’t know the difference Between toilet and bog I’m an alien from planet zog Don’t know the difference Between jog and job I’m an alien from planet zog Don’t know the difference Between Rosemary and Rob I’m a bitten old alien
from planet zog A soggy old alien from
planet zog A tired old alien from planet zog A tongue tied old alien from planet zog A clever old alien from
planet zog They just bought my spaceship Only ten bob!!!!!!! MORE POEMS Dried flower arrangement Poem by Your true soul spiralled
outwards Before it was trapped Now eyes
lock skyward, Besotted
by silver Resurrection, Shimmering above Like
diamond dust, While faces Dawn briefly Smiling anew As they did When orange
ripples Blew wild and free Haloes
round centres of ochre sun Cascading
Pollen rivulets Spiralling down Moist banks Of Lilly white freesias Over beaches
Into the sea, While the storm of my brain Shocks back to present For them only to be Stifled Confined Blistering Heads Rigid and Joined
Starving On Brittle Stems In Parched Dry bottle
below Smile Poem ; by For weeks or months it may persist Perhaps certain clarity of stare, A certain twinkle of eye below Thinly stranded hair; virginal
snowdrop White, mind’s initial pure coupling Spring
dawning new states gradual aware As you wonder aimlessly why That certain wryness of smile brings Facial
expressions that linger a while; You ponder their knowledge In awe where they are going Have been or went before. I’ve seen it only twice in yesteryear On faces far and near, that radiant gaze This uttered silent defiant lack of fear Their God was surely very near To Pope John Paul and my old Polish
Father-in- Law a good year after his NDE; And now I meet it once again In my demented father ‘on the mend,’ The steroids surely took their toll And in speech therapy classes Maybe he ought enrol; or was the light So
very bright it extinguished every single fright. For this elderly varied trinity and others of
like mind Fear takes leave in explanation plain to see,
way perhaps Quite kind; when old men simply want to slow
and die That certain twinkle glints in ageing eye Suffering ebbs and sadness calls goodbye as In waves of universal happiness they will
flow and fly. Copyright 22/12/205 Chrisbarnespoet. Further Studies of Alzheimer’s When to mourn poem by (A dark study of senile dementia) |