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Poems By Poet Barry A. Lanier  9/23/2014 7:19:08 AM
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bFirst Blood

Whenever my father left that morning,
Thinking he might say goodbye,
Or have a good day

From that point on in my day,
Seemingly nothing was right,
And ruined my day.

When my friend walked away,
Playing ball at recess,
Reminding me of father.

From that point on we fought,
I may have lost,
Marveled at the volume of blood.

Ruined shirt and new pants,
Cuts and bruises,
First blood.

My blood made me proud,
Running home to mom,
Upset and concerned.

Yet I told her I liked the pain,
I wouldn't let her change my shirt,
So complete and bloody

When my father came home late
I'd show him my blood and scars
Patiently awaiting him to pass out
Barry A. Lanier




Should love be a gentle, misting rain,
I'm searching for the roaring thunder.
It always thunders, when I'm fishin'.
Have fished all my life,
With obsession and complusion.
Yet care not, for fish to eat.

Something sacred about fishing.
Through fishing, I might meet myself,
Before my arrival.
I revel in their size and colors,
Have a short discussion, then release them.
Squinting shimmers of water and love from their eyes.

Fishing has taught my lessons in life.
Letting go, when I let them go.
Humility, when I catch not one.
Learning to swim, as my boat sunk.
There will come a time when all is finished,
Except the fishing.

Fishing is Holy.
Ralph Waldo Emerson said,
'I will so ever trust that what is deep is Holy.'
All of the big ones are caught in deep water.
I have overcome the fear of being lonely.
Never had a lonely day fishin'.

Fishing is many things to many people,
And as at time in life things aren't always fair.
If life were indeed fair, fish wouldn't feed.
But there's something to be said about fishing,
Being on the water and having those moments of clarity.
Days when the fish are gone but God is in attendance.
Barry A. Lanier



bFootball Friday

Once upon a time some few years ago we'd meet
Donning my oversized suit, cleats two sizes to big for my feet
Toward the end of a climax, prayed no one would frown
The thrill of Friday night lights, in every little Georgia town

Revealing where every man, woman, and child could be found
Good or bad economy, they seem to close down the town
All heading toward the nights 8 P.M. lights
Why some of them hoping to see me tonight

Saturday mornin' read not the comics, obituaries, and views
Heading straight to the sport's page, for Friday night news
In downtown cafe's, re-living all of the damage that was done
Ole' Hank and Maurice of course, bragging about their sons

Why didn't Coach Lane in the fourth, pull the quarterback out
Half the crowd with incessant booing, the others with doubt
Such as it is in South Georgia, with these Friday night treats
Always the toast of Fall weekends, whether in victory or defeat.

{ And in comes Barry Lanier #65 right pulling guard,213 pounds, All-State, what! the coach is pulling him out } Metter High School,1970, record 7-3 Sub-region Champs
Barry A. Lanier



bFor Better Or Worse

Scientific genius now proclaims
Witness these cells, fragmented and maimed
I create life, give you eternal existence
For those of you, can afford my remittance

The miracle of life, once copulatory
Now only we need, my humble laboratory
Come one, come all, I'll take you all
Making you fat or thin, even short or tall

Death no longer a virtue, a sad part of life
Just step in right now, resolved with my knife
Laws of nature and God, need not apply
Is living worth living, should we never die?

Thinking the future holds new truths
Being never really anticipated
When newborns are not born
Yet simply replicated

Thinking I might defer at this time
From simply the man-made world
Lest one fine day we might not know
The boy from the girl
Barry A. Lanier
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Poems By Poet Barry A. Lanier