Am I?

I am 




I am the 
sum of 
my parts, 


nothing 
of my 
essence.

Buddha tree




the Buddha tree
sways in wind 
glows in sunlight. 


I seek 
comfort in 
its shade.










Poems ©2011 R. Burnett Baker 
Top photo © Carole Leslie
Bottom photo found via Google Images

your garden




do roses 
bloom at 
night? 


caressing 
a stem in 
darkness 
a thorn 
pierces
my finger. 


biting my 
comfort, I 
hear color
in mid-
night; 


feel 
blood blooming 
warm into 
my palm. 




Poem ©2011 R. Burnett Baker 
Photo by Donald Lim

Dark Fantasy

madness 




in a 
dream 
Edgar Allen 
whispered 
in my 
ear,


"awaken 
to the 
Poe 
inside 
your 
head." 


finally: 
free to
see 
darkness
in the 
light. 






Poem © 2011 R. Burnett Baker 
Photo© 2011 R. Burnett Baker 

Ok. Guess I'm Just In A Goofy Mood This Week.

It would be funny if it weren't so pitiful.

The Rapture, that is.  You all know the story this week.  Another nutball preacher convincing weaker minds that the end is coming.  The saddest part is that so many folks will throw away their livelihoods, possessions, and even their lives for such nonsense.  And now he's recalculated the date to be this coming October.  He and his reported $80,000.000 evangelical empire, continuing to potentially ruin perfectly good lives.

Oh dear.

Anyway, I'm going to be irreverent here and post this silliness.  Sometimes I just can't stop myself.  Guess the Reverend Camping couldn't stop himself either:  From living, that is.

Let's just pray his "followers" will stop themselves:  From dying, that is.

don't need no 

don't need no stinkin' rapture 

to make my life worth dyin'...

don't want no singin' angels 

on clouds without a-flyin'...

can't listen to the sounds 

of crazy men a-preachin',

leachin' off my pockets 

while the TV cameras roll. 

_________________

don't need no dates for endings 

while my bills still need a-payin'...

can't think about the heavens 

if my job keeps on a-stayin'...

don't have no time for packin' 

if I'm gonna be a-dyin',

flyin' in my sneakers 

while the TV cameras roll. 

_________________

pop the cork, pull the tab, 

suds are overflowin'...

feel the sun beat my face

while I get a buzz a-goin'...

I'll sip the can and drain the glass 

as Reverend counts his blessins', 

and as he does the math 

for the dates about His presence! 

Poem and text © 2011 R. Burnett Baker 

Photos borrowed from Google images and 

may be subject to copyright. 

Magpie Tales Photo Prompt 67: Fun With The Classics

17th Century Speed Dating

Men.  

The cad on my left thinks he's John Mayer. 

The goof on my right's imitating Robin Williams. 

And THAT one with the porn star facial hair 

is checking out another guy at the opposite table. 

This date is classic, freakin' classic!

Text by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo courtesy of Tess Kincaid

Magpie Tales Photo Prompt 66: On Walden,Books, And Technology

from forest to eReader




wisdoms rote 
from nature 
through the 
sage of simplicity 


sit 
leather bound 
between lost 
worlds' words 


and inklings 
of today's 
reflections of 
ignorance. 


Poem © 2011 by R. Burnett Baker 
Photo courtesy of Tess Kincaid

a fleeting 

there was that 

one silent instant 

my finger skirted 

your

lip 

and I closed my eyes 

to savor a fleeting 

of 

love. 

Poem © 2011 R. Burnett Baker 

Magpie Tales Photo Prompt 65: Quest For Peace?

friar's lament




psalms of peace
on granite 
dreams


are songs 
these birds 
will never 
sing. 






Poem © 2011 R. Burnett Baker 
Photo courtesy of Tess Kincaid

For Betty Baker

for my mother 

(a yellow rose of Texas) 

place them before 

a window 

in full sunlight

set them at 

room's center 

and at each 

passing of 

fragrance and 

hue 

honor every petal 

from the waters 

of your 

life. 

Poem © 2011 R. Burnett Baker 

Photo courtesy of http://www.writespirit.net/resources/free-spiritual-music-downloads/

A Perspective

to see past as future




within that frame
an instant, (who 
knows how long 
it represents) is 


imagined for 
eyes and 
memories.


frames of 
photos, film - 
of paintings 


or in an 
eyeblink, 


we coil our 
histories as 
seen   


unqualified by 
our patrons. 




Poem © 2011 R. Burnett Baker 
Photo© 2011 R. Burnett Baker 

Where Were You Moments

between 
generations 




those 
where
were 
you 
moments

spaced
between 
generations 
and 
varied 
perceptions,


are 
indemnified 
by 
the 
common
horror
struck, 
stuck 
between 
heart 
and 
gut; 


are
universal
in 
the 
shared 
stunning 
of 
collective 
sensibilities 



and 
individual 
agonies 
and 
fears. 




Poem © 2011 R. Burnett Baker
All photos borrowed from 
Google Images. 

Magpie Tales Photo Prompt 64: Remembering A Grandmother

my mother's mother




every reach,
each edifice,
wisdomed arms,
pursed lips colored


all landscapes; 


every fire,
each shelter,
and all eyes 
smoldered life, and I, 


the child clinging 
to my mother's 

mother 

trusted every
breath to 
those furtive 
futures. 


Poem © 2011 R. Burnett Baker 
Photo courtesy of Tess Kincaid
Photo:  Smoldering Fires, Clarence Holbrook Carter, 1904-2000
Columbus Museum of Art