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Poems By Poet Barry A. Lanier  8/30/2014 5:24:25 AM
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To miss the trickle,
Of a cool mountain stream.
Standing barefoot;
Among the slippery rocks,
I would regret.

To miss the soltitude,
Of being to first to rise.
The rooster crowing;
Aroma of fresh brewed coffee,
I would regret.

To miss unbounded joy,
Of not having to work.
New snow on the ground;
Under goose down,
I would regret.

To miss sleeping in,
Under the cover and care,
Of a thin tin roof;
In the rain,
I would regret

To never have witnessed.
The angelic white,
Newly bloomed dogwoods;
Early hours of a spring morning,
I would regret

To never have held,
My naked newborn girl,
Opening her eyes the first time;
Announcing her arrival,
I would regret

To have never experienced,
The love and friendship,
Of a personal savior,
Coming into my life,
I would regret

Yet should I ever have,
Any lasting regret,
It would be that;
There would come a day,
I should ever forget.
Barry A. Lanier



bSimple Lifeb(Humorous)

Scattered piles of corn,
No more room in the crib.
Hunered holes in Ma's dress,
Not a one in her new bib.

Wheelbarrow for every Saturday washin',
Pa forgives me for stayin'dirty.
Squealing and gruntin',
The pigs, not Pa.

If Pa knew the Bible like them hogs,
He'd for sure go to heaven.
Pa has a hurt that runs up his elbow,
Tittis', he calls it, but the hogs couldn't get it.

Pa never hits me, like he does that anvil,
But sometimes he gets mad.
Know, cause his mouth gets all squarish,
And he turns all bright red and such.

Never really understand, why all thangs happen?
Like inclement weather and women.
Pa says, 'Stay away from these,
So, I'm happy.'

We're gettin' a new cow shed,
And a new hog pen this summer.
Ain't life great on the farm.
Ain't life simple.
Barry A. Lanier



bSo Small The Distance

So small is the distance,
Between politics and prose.
Just as the short distance,
Between the grave and the rose.

Let not my words provoke,
But clear thoughts, resolve and calm.
For I left all my outrage,
In a distant field in Vietnam.

I just gave my neighbor,
My only Silver Star.
For her firstborn and courageous,
Lost in a land, way afar.

I gave her my Purple Heart,
To gently lady on his grave.
So little could I share,
For the life he just gave.

While there were no words,
To justify her great loss.
I left her my heart,
Long ago, I thought it was lost.

So there is not so much distance,
Between politics and prose.
Just as, so small the distance,
Between the grave and the rose.
Barry A. Lanier



bThe Ode Less Traveled

Traveling down the road less traveled
Somehow it just seemed the best
Just an ole'country road
Like most of the rest
Enlightened and yearning
To rest my heavy load
Feathered anticipation
In this road I have chose
Winding round' curves
Thinking of this and that
My cell phone was ringing
Wham! Bam! both my tires went flat
She was tired and was leaving
Thinking things were on the mend
How was I to ever know of this
In love with my only best friend
One thing in life now for certain
Really nothing is for sure
Got out to change both tires
Stepped in a foot of manure
Thinking life's got to get better
Yet it came completely unraveled
Next time around I won't choose
The same road less traveled
Barry A. Lanier
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Poems By Poet Barry A. Lanier