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Poems By Poet Barry A. Lanier  11/21/2014 6:02:19 PM
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bA First I Won't Forget

Shifting his weight
Separated by the glass
Unbraiding his story
Detailing fine points
Long ago left out
Decidedly forgotten
By those who could
Change a man's life
Through teller's chute
A chocolate ice-cream
One smile and tear
Fifteen years old
He arrived then
Now 20 years later
Four long days
We talked
In his cube
Oral revelations
Of the prison
My life was in
Two weeks later
A thank you note
You are the only
Visitor in 20 years
Thank you for
Your kindness
My first
Barry A. Lanier



bA Higher Plane

In the celestial and terrestial,
We arise.
On a plane higher than life,
Yet irresistably gathered.

Sealed in shadowy moods,
Yet held to Providence.
Even as vanity might yield,
To wisdom.
In due time.

As the laurel lowers it's green,
So falls the dew.
Gently, insidiously around.
False wisdom fosters humility,
Solemn yet sound.

A confluence of life's experience,
Acceptance of pain,
Now yields,
To Providence.
And to a higher plane.
Barry A. Lanier



bA Man of Many Talents

Sitting atop the mountain
Fashioned by passage of time
While doing it so naturally
While other's had hills to climb

Man of so many talents
Traits so many would adore
So graceful hugging trees
And holding on to floors

Hustling and bustling for dollars
Taking the easy ways out
Staring in all of the mirrors
Seeing talent beyond doubt

Some folks climb mountains
While other's jump from planes
Yet do I refine my daily skills
Of simply being quite insane

Sometimes I'm real stupid
Other times I'm so very smart
Acquiring and using these skills
Requires getting a very early start

Negotiating many a crisis
Architecting many a love
Often with a few simple lines
Surely sent from above

Call me a vile manipulator
Always taking the easy way out
Yet staring into the mirror
Seeing talent beyond doubt

{ A satirical look at the disillusioned, dysfunctional thought process
of the addictive personality }
Barry A. Lanier



bA Matter of Humility

A small table in the bedroom
Folding chairs in the living room
A cheap Olivetti hand me down
Sometimes it works fine

Graduating to my new office desk
Two garage sale metal sawhorses
A stained blank door panel
My wife stained, I never put up

This sustains me, keeps me grounded
So, as long as I hear all the voices
Coming from beneath the ground
Multitudes of tears, falling from the sky

Wasting my heart upon these matters
Devoted and content upon change
Until creeks rise, and hell freezes over
Shall I continue the art, of writing
Barry A. Lanier
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Poems By Poet Barry A. Lanier