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Dried flower arrangement Poem by Chris Barnes
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
AND
Confined
As
your
Blistering
Heads
Rigid
and Joined
Starving
On
Brittle
Stems
In
Parched
Dry bottle below
The rest of the poems – I'm afraid I've written so
many hundreds they couldn't all feature on the site so here is just a flavor
Windy
Autumn Day Poem (2010)
Survey
today North West Wales
Windy
grey autumnal day
Crows
like planes at play
Signing
x’s,’y’s’, zeds and o’s;
Fickle
formation randomly perturbed
Contrasting
limply floating leaves,
Tiny
russet- ochre parachutes
Pirouetting
passports to certain death below
In putrefying
pile of rotten regeneration
Where
slugs and worms tunnel under
Cans
and crisp packets performing
Stunt
like temporary
animation;
Action
too in high canopy above
Resonating
with nature’s breath
Branches
wildly advertise their waving
Waning
existences this day they are alive.
2009 Poetry -this was dominated by the death of our favourite pet cat
in a Road Accident
An Ode to Lucy aged just 10 months – The sweetest
pet cat we ever owned – Our whole family were heartbroken.
Only a cat yet daughter
I never had
Tiny bundle of joy I
watched
You develop, grow
and learn
Softly, stupidly I
sang YOU LULLABIES
Pussy cat pussy
close those big
Green eyes as you
ate whiskas
Me just coffee and
minced pies
Tears still welling
in my eyes
Recalling life so
precious happy
But short oh so, so
short
Immense joys,
amusement
And pleasure you
brought
Pussy more than
standard moggy
Came for walks like
any doggy
Playing fetch toy
mouse or teddy
Loving me rubbing
that furry belly
You’d scale your Lidl
stropping
Pole time after
time, after time
Perched on top for a
while
You the lion, I
tamer of the wild
Mad, crazy kitten
demolishing
Kitchen and furry
activity centre
Chasing crinkled
sweet papers
Resting at night
with the wife supine
Pampered pussy cat
what a sweet
But short, oh so
short, short a life
Like those of mice
and birds you took
Just instincts’
predatory strife
Such my stomach
turned to
Thoughts of how was
gentle touch
Paws outstretched
stroking us
Not a claw or nail
in sight
Pure unconditional
warmth and love
Compatible with
camouflaged soldier
Mean and playful
killing machine
Deeds in the field
unclean, unseen
And like a child we
kept close tabs
Calling ‘Lucy,
Lucy, Baby, Baby
Foody Doody’ day on day, night on night
Dinner, Tea, Supper
and Slumber
For slinky, cute,
pampered girl
Mere teenager in
human terms
Until the fated day
of no return
You’d stretched and
knowingly
Looked me in the eye
rubbing
More lovingly than
usual
Mirroring my scratch
on your pole
Pawing the door of
eternity
All night and half
the next day
We yelled and balled
shouting
To no avail while
you climbed
Final staircase victim
of road kill
Nice man and a
doctor tried to help
Gingerly we had to
ask where’s
The body –
embarrassed THEIR
Time to tell; my eyes
with tears really, really well
All neatly
sanitised, wrapped in cardboard
In their bin; only a
cat daughter I never had
He came back with
parcel and sheepish grin
I nursed you one
last time
I thought I felt a
stir but rigor mortise had set in
Green eyes closed
but fur still soft, oh so lovely
Darling you’re home
and proper buried now
I got you back,
forgive their cardinal sin
Recalling life so
precious happy
But short oh so, so
short
Immense joys,
amusement
And pleasure you
brought.
Chrisbarnespoet
September 2009
Lucy gone but not
forgotten (2009)
Two weeks on we both still miss
you like crazy,
Remembered
not forgotten sweet little one
Pleasant
memories of your life jogged
Morning
noon and night nudged and tugged
They
come alive again, the expectant
Expecting
purring paws at our lonely feet
You
show us your food packs –neat
Tossing
rolled wrappings chocolate, sweets
Hiding
in corners, plant pots, under three-piece suite
Stealthily
pouncing on warm laps –no pain
Nothing
moving sacred or safe, lumps in our bedspread or
Quilt
playground for feline queen until fate, horrible, unseen
Day on day I prayed for
Christ-like resurrection
Stirred
at scar in turf on lawn -marker of tiny grave
Why
did none of nine lives appear to save?
Furry
tortoiseshell only laughter and pleasure she gave
No
more tears now you’re back home pussycat,
Soul
parted crumpled corpse, called up to tiger heaven
Night
on night translucent orb in lounge, shadowy clue,
Strolls
past my club chair eight fifteen, the final cue.
Chrisbarnespoet September 2009
2008 POETRY – IT WAS NOTICED THAT INSECTS ARE DYING OUT AT AN ALARMING
RATE
Clearly something we don't understand is at work
ideas range
from simple habitat destruction to overuse of herbicides and pesticides . I
wonder if there is something more subtle like bio-resonance with G3 cell
phone signals or changed spectral signature of our daylight (global dimming)
because we live under a very busy air lane.
Butterfly lament;
Poem by Chris Barnes.
Summer heat
'engineered' late this year
It hits now fear is
nearer
More so than June
2004
When the Cuckoo met
befall
The odd ragged
Cabbage White 
Meanders past lonely
Buddleias
Longing to feel
tonguing Proboscis
Tortoiseshell,
Admiral and Fritillary
To no avail, all
insects’ life on the wane
Garden doesn’t even sound
sane
Blame Global Warming
convenient
For taxation, bleed
the nation, name the game
Played by high in
sky or by radio from remote Alaskan Plane?
So Clouds and sky
don’t even look the same
Remember days when
aluminium meant window frame
And Barium stood for
stomach X-ray frame
Yes frame the view when
cloud was fluffy
Flat bottomed stuff
-God’s void between
Deep heavenly, dark
blue, hue; pre –nineties
Planet many of us
loved and knew
Of soul and harmony,
divinity nearby
Until men entrusted
with the geometry of sky
Destroy
insectivorous life and its will to fly
Hearken to the
warning else they too may fall and die.
MORE
2008
Boot-sale Britain
by Chris Barnes 
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 worldly
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.
Copyright Chrisbarnespoet.
2007 poetry
Wisteria Sinesis Poem by Chris Barnes.
Lady in stunning
violet gown
Your locks unfold
and flow
Your arms and legs
invite caress
Most every intimate
surface
Sees a million tiny
droplet
Earrings dangle in
the wind
Dainty hands
outstretch
Touching sun’s
message
Beckoning
irresistible beauty,
Shading insect
lovers
Lustful Lepidoptera
mystified
By your manifold
gaze
Compound eyes and
mine
Focus on Wisteria Sinesis
Ingesting magnetic
galleries
2006 A prolific year
Audience with
Bassin Aux Nympheas,
My head cocked
aside,
In awe of the
impressionist mind
Entrained God given
eyes
In captured
appreciation
Of an arched ivory
spine,
An inner reflection
Artist’s cunningly
placed line;
Hand rails on the
bridge of time,
Which no living soul
has ever touched,
Ends anchored firmly
Beyond peripheral
view
A sort of Peter the
Rock
Beside Joseph’s
coat,
Multicolored unimaginable hue;
While the sun’s
tears
Laburnum rivulets
Rain down on
steadfast planks,
And the being they
never knew
Fades slowly into
view,
As if, ascendant,
Heaven wise from
pool of pixilation below,
Beginning great
meeting with maker;
Moments later I fix
upon another blue,
Bright, fragmented
azure
Circumscribed water
Lilly
Or maybe was it
algal bloom?
Slowly drifting on
the surface of reality
I thank my host for
audience with
Bassin Aux Nympheas,
A truly divine Monet
Print
By Chris Barnes .
Skateboarders’
side-walk
I wrote this poem
while teaching in a student's house, there was a poster on the wall featuring
skateboarders and graffiti and it was difficult to ascertain which was in the
foreground!
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
Easter Island
statue, really takes me in!
All and any
onlookers sort of out of it
Devoid of reality,
abstracted from action
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 Chris Barnes October 2006
EARLIER WORK
I was approached by the US website Artvilla for my début with this poem
Empathetically
a Seagull 
Sentient winged
creature
Standing upon
windswept roof;
Truly ruling
immediate roost
On modest, murky
March day;
I wonder, do you
work or do you play?
Perhaps meet a mate
–arrange a date
And, when you
preened your
Private plumage so
pettily
Afore that shiny
chimney guard,
My half –stooped
sleepy figure bearing
Toothbrush and razor
by bedroom dresser
Came to light in
your charade,
And what of that
half -ugly
One- legged stunt,
You stretched and
bent
Awkwardly strutting
your stuff,
So to rise
majestically into
Factual flight of
flights,
Formidable, fanciful
flight
By creature, facet
of creation,
Cleverer than given
credit,
Watching with
fortitude I forget
Stiff back and
aching limbs
Linger only in human
plight.
Chrisbarnespoet
Site last updated 20th
February 2012
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