Mike Barrett

(June,1943 / Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada)

Personal Observation


Pride
And intellectual conceit
Are damnable things -
A work
Is stopped
'Ere yet its flow's begun
For fear the thoughts
And words required
Will not come -
Therein lies the ruin!

So am I cursed.

However,
Waving now
These lifemates
To the wing
A humbler self
Stays on this page
To sing,
Although it be imperfectly
With notes
Not crystal clear,
Knowing I
Some sound must make
Should I
Wish you to hear!

Follow me to the garden
Where delicate flowers grow
Orchids beyond your description,
Madonnas more pure than new snow.
A warm air
More fragrant than honey
Tempts open the flower
In my head
Which
When it then fully blossoms
A starving bee
It becomes instead.

My mind is a flower,
At times opening for the
Universe to see -
Hoping that its beauty
On some eye will fall -
Will make at least one heart light!
Will not be molested,
Not be cross-pollinated
By some dumb bee -
Will not be crushed
By ignorant
Or not so ignorant
Evil forces -
Will have lived
And died
Not in darkness!

Please be careful
Only that you look or smell -
Look and smell,
But do not touch -
Never touch!

' Why not? ', you ask.

Its petals
Are delicate,
Sensitive and apt to curl
At the slightest hint,
Of the lightest touch -
One glance too heavy
The blossom folds
And rising sepals
Quickly
Seal all!

Is this shy youth,
Or wisdom of old age?
I, your mentor -
You, my sage?


© M. Barrett – all rights reserved

Submitted: Monday, September 23, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, September 24, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

In June 1963 I turned 20. That summer, when contemplating on this, these words arrived.

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