My Dear Mr. Clemens

Mark Twain, 1909“Don’t go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.” – Mark Twain

 

My Dear Mr. Clemens

Am I not part of this world?
Was I not born of the earth?
As my fathers and their fathers
For a hundred thousand generations

I fill my niche eating fruit
From the tree of knowledge
Spitting out the seeds while I laugh
At the beauty of life

I walk through the woods
Plucking burrs from my clothes
Selecting the next generation
Of prey with my tools

Do I owe my fingernails a living?
Blood flows to nourish each
They grow and are clipped
Like the generations of man

Advertisements

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.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to My Dear Mr. Clemens

  1. Emily Cooper says:

    “Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s