Balconies

I hate windows! Give me a balcony to heed the world.

BalconyI want the rain to wet my skin, the wind to tousle my hair, the hot to inspire sweat and the cold to shiver. I do not want to observe through a pretty picture window. Let me be the lone figure stopping by the woods on a snowy evening.

The balcony should be just high enough that I can see the faces of my fellows and hear their voices but not make out the words. As in opera, their actual meaning never rises to the music.

And, should I fall, have a decent chance at survival. If only to inform one more poem.

 

(I intend to be at the Fly Leaf Books open mic on Thursday and hope to read a couple of my poems from Brazil. Join me!)

 

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About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker was born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough, North Carolina where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.
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2 Responses to Balconies

  1. Will says:

    But I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep ;)

  2. kismet says:

    I love balconies too😃

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