Friday, August 31, 2012

Thursday, August 30, 2012

A Meditation

Poem ©2012 R. Burnett Baker 
Photo ©2011 R. Burnett Baker 

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

What We Are. Who We Are.

"We hold what we are 
not only in our hearts and minds, 
but sometimes in 
our hands." 

-Rick B. Baker

Photo taken by Ronald E. Baker, 2009

©2012 R. Burnett Baker 
Part of a comment I made on a Facebook friend, Kae Angelo Prias' recent post. 

Today's Social Commentary

Image borrowed from Google Images

 old fashioned

      my life is analog

     there will be no 

    aching thumbs 

       on these fingers 

     no text needed 

        to grab attention

             to make eye contact

        or spell laughter 

        I still can speak 

         and hear voices 

    express cold 

and heat 

       upon my skin. 

Poem ©2012 R. Burnett Baker 

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Political Discourse 2012.2

cult politics/minds 

addled is the best description,

by what, no one can tell 

but doesn't matter:  memes are 

colorfully coltish entertainment,

and minds, trusting by nature, 

consider no distinctions between

frivolity and fact, 

idolatry and intellect. 

Poem ©2012 R. Burnett Baker
Images borrowed from Google Images

Political Discourse 2012.1

Image borrowed from Dixie Swanson blog.

voting booth:
when all else fails 

so these are the days of molehills 

and lies, a time for each of us 

to decide the benefits of  falsity 

and cunning.  to think that 

individuals affect political outcomes  

is to believe in political outcomes: 

complacency and ignorance

have never seen 

finer lines of distinction. 

Poem ©2012 R. Burnett Baker 

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Magpie Tales 132: Just A Room

Big Room, 1948, by Andrew Wyeth
Shared by Tess Kincaid

vacant house 

vacant house 
       sits alone 
occupants gone years prior. 

voices echo 
       in faded memories 
of lives long departed. 

hearts of souls remaining 
       to reflect 
serve only to  
       sweep away 
traces of lifedreams 
collected as dust 
       upon the 

Poem ©2012 R. Burnett Baker 

Saturday, August 25, 2012

City Scenes XXVI: Waiting For The Green Light

Photo ©2012 R. Burnett Baker  
Taken by R. Baker, Monroe Ave. Rochester, NY
April 2012.

at the cross-walk: 
prodigal son

joy reflects one instant for those alive 

and counted, sharing the range

of emotion we cannot find in you 

for we can not find you.  was it two 

or three now, years, you vanishing 

like so many tales of devious millionaires

or young girls gone missing, but you

were neither (are neither)?  all children 

since are grown or growing, their 

laughter synonymous with fading 

memory.  captured in photos,  tempered joy 

is a hostage to truth beneath 

laugh-lines, those salient moments 

we cling to as life-lines for hope.    

Poem ©2012 R. Burnett Baker 

Friday, August 24, 2012

City Scenes XXV: Howdy Partner. Or not.

Photo ©2012  R. Burnett Baker
Church Street and Carlton, Toronto, Ontario July 2012.


it wasn't always the case

diverting eyes along sidewalks 

glancing as if to indicate 

a point of interest only you

might discern (how astute) 

or regulating an expression

other than vulgarity (self-rewarding)

no it was once a hi hello

and howdy nodding of heads

as standard reference for 

threat aversion and civility . 

Poem ©2012 R. Burnett Baker 

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Self Portrait?


one more layer to peel 

your fans will see what 

they never expected 

flesh sweat skin-tone 

colors swirling in their 

debauched imaginations. 

Poem ©2012 R. Burnett Baker 
Ball point pen/color pencil doodle by R. Baker, 2005.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

A Flower. In PG17.


anyone would know it was you 

in contrast to every backdrop 

always in style (dress to impress) 

but mostly your words 

provocative tease that you are 

without one sound from your mouth 

a come fuck me glint in your eye 

hair flowing in  the breeze.  

Poem ©2012 R. Burnett Baker 
Photo ©2012 R. Burnett Baker 

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

All Light

Photo ©2012 R. Burnett Baker



©2012 R. Burnett Baker 

Monday, August 20, 2012

A Season In Flight


"V" formations 
have begun,

late August 
warning flights.

is it a practice run? 

could be the 
real deal.  it's 
often so: 

Great Lakes' late 
summers are 
tricks of mind, 

down and woolen 
closet doors cracked 
open ever so 

Photo © Arthur Morris

Poem © 2012 R. Burnett Baker
Arthur Morris photo from Google search. (True color altered) 

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Magpie Tales 131: Bridging Reality

Under Windsor Bridge, 1912, by Adolphe Valette 
Shared by Tess Kincaid


soot-coated dialogue, 
that invective political 
discourse providing 
fashionable moral certitude
for every open mind, 

is so fulfilling.  I am 

ashamed of my willing 
participation in lauding 
the cobalt sky I 
witnessed today, (and 
many days previous) 

for it must be an anomaly: 

Orwell would not have 
me believe otherwise. 

Poem © 2012 R. Burnett Baker 

Saturday, August 18, 2012

A Grandmother's View

farm girl 

a wall-sized picture window played the view 
of geraniums in a large brick planter box in 
her back yard.  

a few feet beyond, slender trees dressed from 
tip-top to trunk danced under hot Texas sunshine.
further up to, and along the horizon of farmland - 
flat, treeless, and pregnant with crops - the sound 
of wind played telephone wires on highway violins. 

she sat straight-backed, rigid on her sofa and watched
this mosaic of her life, of every life that passed her 
window through decades of birthings.  

she sat alone, memories her only fading friends, 
their voices muffled, muddled and vying for 
attention - no - screaming for recognition in 
waning light of autumn.  

she knew her children, grandchildren, and 
great-grandchildren would remember - 

remember if even her own recollections 
scattered on prairie dust along ancient, 
ever changing highways, as those trees
undressed under heaven for a lingering, 
dreamless sleep. 

Poem © 2012 R. Burnett Baker 
Photo © 2012 R. Burnett Baker
Photo of Ina Wilkins Stovall taken about 1922, photographer unknown.  The photographer who took this photo of my grandmother may have been my great-grandfather, Robert J. Stovall who was an avid photographer in the early 20th century.  This scene was painted on canvas by my aunt Ina Jean Stovall Garner in 1972.  That will be another story!  

Friday, August 17, 2012

Hey Shorty, It's Your........

"Every day's your birthday. 
We just don't always 
have cake." 

- R. Baker 

Wednesday, August 15, 2012


"One rosebud is not spring. 
One falling leaf is not autumn." 

- R. Baker

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Magpie Tales 130: Illusion


you were my 

breaking free was 
your dilemma, but
one without a spirit
of deed, like a shell
in the sand.

"hold it to your ear," 
they say, "and you'll 
hear the ocean," and 

motherofpearl I did - 
felt your breath, 
tasted sea foam and
salt, swept along a 
rip-tide of cresting
waves that whetted
paradise and 

striking echoes of 
hollow illusion and

Poem © 2012 R. Burnett Baker 
Photo by Francesca Woodman, shared by Tess Kincaid.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

City Scenes XXIV: After Hello


mannequin hearts

your favorite 
part of me isn't 
the part craving 
the fragrance 
of your flesh 

but, rather, the
mental screwing
of talk and 
verbal intercourse
that many wish
existed within the
fervency of their 

even then, 
discourse is 

eye stalking 
and imaginary
"ex"- ray vision
become mothers 
of invention. 

Poem © 2012 R. Burnett Baker 
Photo © 2012 R. Burnett Baker 
Photo taken by R. Baker, University Avenue, Rochester, NY.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Magpie Tales 129: Small Talk

A Dinner Table at Night, 1884, John Singer Sargent, shared by Tess Kincaid.

               small talk 

               between slicing
               whirs of air and 
               feathered edges 
               there is restraint.

               storms, too, have 
               that characteristic, 
               a raging/abating,
               that keeps you 
               off your mark,

               reminding you 
               that control is 
               not always 
               what you do
               with your life: 

               to appreciate 
               dominion and calm,
               is to also be 
               prepared for 
               alternatives between
               cocktails and 
               the feast. 

Poem © 2012 R. Burnett Baker 

Saturday, August 4, 2012

On Life, On Afterlife

Copyright (C) 2003 Chiharu Shiota All Rights Reserved.

continuity equation 

his ashes 
were scattered 
at sea, and 

charred timbers 
of home 
          on the 
          jet stream - 

circled earth - his 
face a thousand
times framed on 
memory walls;  children

and become 
timbers of lives
always on 
display for 

always forgotten
in name, in 

Poem © 2012 R. Burnett Baker 

Friday, August 3, 2012

In Plain Sight, Hiding


is the conscript 
of that nature,

called into 
service, not 
without reservation,
and not with a 
conscience of 

but shamed 
every waking 

your eyes 
between splintered
pickets, never 
but hanging 
pan-faced for 
the world to

Photo by Michele Bressan

Poem © 2012 R. Burnett Baker 

Thursday, August 2, 2012


Some Things Are Just Too Obvious

Ok.  This is supposed to be a poetry slash art blog.  I try to refrain from ranting here, rather than on my other blog, BakersTake, but sometimes I can't help myself.  

Sometimes, some things, like stupidity, are just too obvious.  This morning I read an article about how the Physicians Committee For Responsible Medicine (PCRM) has said that milk in school lunches is bad and is demanding that the USDA remove said bad milk from the National School Lunch Program. 

I won't go into details here, but you can read the blog post I read about this on oh so omnipresent Yahoo this morning.  As pointed out on the post, PCRM is a non-profit that promotes a vegan diet, and has ties to Peta (OH DO NOT GET ME STARTED ABOUT THOSE TERRORISTS), and is not without controversy itself. 

Ok.  Kiddies, DRINK YOUR DAMN MILK.  Then hit the gym with your fat little fast food-asses and do an hour of exercise like we used to have to do in school.  It was called PE.  Sheeesh! 

Now, as for poetry, and keeping on point with this being a poetry blog, here's a milk poem by Christina Rossetti, (1830 - 1894):

Brownie, Brownie, let down your milk,
White as swansdown and smooth as silk,
Fresh as dew and pure as snow:
For I know where the cowslips blow,
And you shall have a cowslip wreath
No sweeter scented than your breath.
From “Selected poems of Christina G. Rossetti” (1913) By Christina Georgina Rossetti

RB. August, 2, 2012 

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Another Icon Passes

Gore Vidal 1925-2012

"Style is knowing who you are, what you want to say, and not giving a damn."

-Gore Vidal