Barry A. Lanier Poems

The lion picks out his gazelle for the kill,
As the herd stands around and watches.
'Well, he picked the weakest one I guess.'
The pack of hyenas pick out the Zebra to dissect,
...

I would regret how terrible it would be,
To go through life never having certain experiences.
I would regret never walking barefoot in a cool mountain stream,
Holding the hand of the one I love, watching breezes blow her hair.
...

Intense was the prelude,
The shallow comotion.
Like a thief in the night,
Hiding his crime.
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After a night of tequila, and a 24 hour virus,
The next morning, no toilet paper in the house.
Struggling to the mailbox, a letter from my banker,
Why don't you come in and see me this week.
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A little verbage over wine,
Can be so refined.
Yet I must admit,
A loose tongue turned loose.
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I look up and often dream of the sky
Yet it escapes me, don't really know why?
Maybe countless sheets of eternal blue
Or in late evenings a crimson hue
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Seek not the wealth 'scattered in winds'
Admire the holder and not what is held
Give in not to grief or signing and pain
But open only the way to joy and freedom
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Catching a glimpse of her, methodically
turning the pages of the book.
I thought she was reading a novel.
Her face as radiant as always, though
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Staying the course, drifting in winds
No way this fool, shall ever win
While setting half the world on fire
Governing his people with cowboy desire
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Winter wind's rippling
Lily pads on the surface
Then is a stillness
...