When we looked
Into the sky,
There was a dark star.
Like a closed eye
Waiting to blink.
We could not escape
From knowing,
Its quiet moons
Were tears,
Stroking the dead light,
Black as ink.
We did not see,
Infinite oceans of
Silent surf cavorting,
In timeless rhythms.
A universal link.           © Will Barton 2009


There is no memory,
To remember,
The brooding heart of earth.
Slapping at the breast of
Mountain, sea and stone.
Forgive me for forgetting,
The laughing mouth of life.
Recklessly rejecting,
The stubborn frown of time.
Stained from wounds,
War and weariness.
Then waking from
This crafty trance,
Like butterflies,
We dive and dance,
The colour of sun,
In the arc of the moon.
There is no calendar to record,
This delicate ballet,
Or any other day.           © Will Barton 2009


In the crazy,
Room of history,
Nothing makes sense.
The turbulence of
Fact and fiction
Spins out of control.
The brawling brats
Spawned by
Religion and expediency,
Scrawl and scratch,
To tear the truth apart.
They see no contradiction
In the irony of their embrace.
As they pause,
Each looks the other way.
The question is forgotten.
Their only definition
Is disgrace.                              © Will Barton 2009


The autumn leaves are falling,
On the baby in her grave.
She was just too young
And brittle,
To ever have been saved.
The colour of her skin,
Is like the frost around her,
So pale and hard and crisp.
But even as she died,
Her body found the strength,
To form a little fist.
Now the wind is calling,
As it lashes at the stone.
Calling, calling,
Calling her home.          © Will Barton 2009


I rake our moments
Through my thoughts.
I taste your tears
Upon my lips.
I feel your footsteps
In my shoes.
I put the shell
Back in the sand.
I raise my hands.
The lion roars.
My fingerprints
Have changed to yours.             © Will Barton 2009


You dig in the sand,
Looking for shells.
Unaware of what is to come.
Uncertain of what has gone.
Do not be afraid.
The sea is warm today.
Let it hold you.
Open your mouth.
Feel the salty froth,
Lap in your throat.
The cliffs will hide,
Your choking yells.
As you drown,
Looking for shells.             © Will Barton 2009