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Poems By Poet Barry A. Lanier  7/24/2014 3:31:58 AM
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Most Men Are Masochists

Surely most would agree!
Most men are masochists!
Yes they really do enjoy pain!
Why else would one continue to.....
Pull fingernails off in the quick?
When a nail-clipper would suffice!
Why would one leave the wife at home?
And go play cards all night with the boys!
Tell a bona fidee lie to the wife!
When the truth would have been much easier.
Men will cook, if danger is involved.
Men go shopping and actually act like they enjoy it!
Why would one wear underwear 3 days in a row?
Why would you think men enjoy crapping?
Hitting a door or wall is really masculine!
What do they love most about football?
Let the man clean the house!
Then beat him with the broom!
But ladies don't punish your men.
They actually might enjoy it!
However if you really to want to punish him!
Engage him in a conversation!
Barry A. Lanier



Multicultural Thoughts


For all that we take with us,
We leave so much behind.
In the Southern stillness of night,
Blue and Gray are the same color.


The blacks, the browns,
The browns, the reds,
The whites, the yellows,
All dipped into blue.
Do not look as different.
Yet lifeless hands,
Holding a lively flower.
Draw attention.
Barry A. Lanier



My Hill

Wonderful friends, O' friends of mine,
In this my tragic time.
Where did they all go?
Or were they really true friends of mine?

As my hole was dug deeper,
And I looked all around.
My best recollection,
Not five friends to be found.

Would they heed the last prayer?
Would they summon the will?
To show up and throw,
The last dirt on my hill.

As my hill sinks, and it hardens,
With passage of time.
I listen for their footsteps,
These good friends of mine.

Surely they were to busy,
Maybe preoccupied with self.
For sure they never heard,
About my bad health.

My hope though is eternal,
Never lost, pray never will.
Let them know when they show,
Throw the last dirt on my hill.
Barry A. Lanier



My Rivers Plear(Author Enjoys)

Give me the majestic rivers of my homeland,
Weaving and rolling across the terrain.
Slipping toward Mother Sea like slow strands,
Molasses rolling across the farmland.

Calling out in reverence,
'There's no reason to rush my lad.'
'Soak in the serenity smelling the magnolias, Inhale the vapors of honeysuckle choking their host.'

Sense the aromatic cool waters,
Weeping willows hanging low.
Planting their fingers upon easy waters,
Halting the streams gentle ebb and flow.

White and pink dogwood flowers,
Budding azalaes seem everywhere.
Sense just once their fragrance and consider,
Slow, deep breaths of sweet Southern air.

Acquired guilt from witnessing sheer beauty,
More than my ravenous soul can bear,
As my river flows on to her homeplace,
I head home to my rocking chair.
Barry A. Lanier
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Poems By Poet Barry A. Lanier