David Barnes
David Barnes
| DAVID EDWARD
BARNES was born in 1943 in Paddington, New South Wales, Australia.
He began writing at 18 years of age when he took up folk guitar,
song writing, and performing at folk centers around mainland
Australia and Tasmania. He worked as a carpenter in Melbourne,
leaving for the bush in the early 60's, finally settling in Perth
in 1972. He worked as a real estate agent for 24 years until the
death of his wife, becoming a full-time writer/poet in 1996. He
has been an active Internet poet and has been published in
Australia, America, and England.
|
NUMBAT POETRY JOURNAL vol. 1, issue 2, is now on line.
http://www.aceonline.com.au/~db/numbat/
Numbat is an Australian production which features Australian poets but also includes a wide selection of English-language poets from other countries.
Dennis Greene, Australian poet, is one of the guiding spirits of Numbat. He has been forced to retire from the journal because of increasing ill health.
Dennis Greene is our special guest poet from Australia in this issue.
Janet Buck is our overseas guest poet from the USA.
http://www.aceonline.com.au/~db/numbat/
Numbat is an Australian production which features Australian poets but also includes a wide selection of English-language poets from other countries.
Dennis Greene, Australian poet, is one of the guiding spirits of Numbat. He has been forced to retire from the journal because of increasing ill health.
Dennis Greene is our special guest poet from Australia in this issue.
Janet Buck is our overseas guest poet from the USA.
Kalbarri fishermen
Sunset
chameleon skyline
wind-carved - aflame
jagged cliffs
sculptured,
bent twisted skeletal
trees defy gravity
with tendon claws
in the rock face.
chameleon skyline
wind-carved - aflame
jagged cliffs
sculptured,
bent twisted skeletal
trees defy gravity
with tendon claws
in the rock face.
High-tide
waves climb, surge
across the coastline
goat gulch ledge
skeletons rise on
white stallions warning
rod and reel in hands
stark fishermen swept away
King waves
harbingers – sudden
death.
waves climb, surge
across the coastline
goat gulch ledge
skeletons rise on
white stallions warning
rod and reel in hands
stark fishermen swept away
King waves
harbingers – sudden
death.
Low-tide
names plaques
screwed to coastline cliffs
shoreline
serrated rock outcrops
I felt you
I heard you last night
as I fished.
names plaques
screwed to coastline cliffs
shoreline
serrated rock outcrops
I felt you
I heard you last night
as I fished.
I search flotsam
hooks lines sinkers
lobster ropes, buoy’s,
captured by exposed
knife sharp fingers,
tangled pieces
of lives
souls.
hooks lines sinkers
lobster ropes, buoy’s,
captured by exposed
knife sharp fingers,
tangled pieces
of lives
souls.
© debarnes may 2002 - 22
The Baptist & his beard
It’s all one; beyond the skin
creation of
chaos & perfection
inside and out God is there;
look -
the bearded man
his head
set on silver, as a gift -
ate locusts & wild-honey
madness?
And God was there--
his countenance on the platter.
his head
set on silver, as a gift -
ate locusts & wild-honey
madness?
And God was there--
his countenance on the platter.
© debarnes March 2003 -28th
The threshold
Today I have risen early
to watch the faint glint of sunrise
spread like liquid honey:
Today I have risen early
to watch the faint glint of sunrise
spread like liquid honey:
in a vigorous
concerto, grass ripples.
concerto, grass ripples.
Morning's wildlife
takes wing, sings with the new dawn,
as the river flows through
my fingers;
water takes my hand
draws me deep, deeper, away from the land:
"let me sleep, let me dream
and be with you".
takes wing, sings with the new dawn,
as the river flows through
my fingers;
water takes my hand
draws me deep, deeper, away from the land:
"let me sleep, let me dream
and be with you".
I rise at the edge of the flow
the flowing river
without end:
how much longer
must I travel, wait on god to awaken
from his day of rest.
© debarnes September -09
the flowing river
without end:
how much longer
must I travel, wait on god to awaken
from his day of rest.
© debarnes September -09
On the edge
If you could hear me
screaming, not being heard, invisible
in this world I did not shape.
an ageing man - eyes looking
for shadows of where I have been,
where I am now.
for shadows of where I have been,
where I am now.
If you could see the shrunken
soul curled up in solitude.
Incapable.
soul curled up in solitude.
Incapable.
Crows would delight in my delicacy.
I must close the windows; pull the drapes
lock doors; two legged crows are
what you are.
© debarnes August 2002 -02 ® -07
lock doors; two legged crows are
what you are.
© debarnes August 2002 -02 ® -07
Trinity
I yearn
to be once more
tranquil waters,
between smooth banks,
caressed by the tip
of tender leaves:
before I am poured like water
like ash on the earth
For I
I am less than the foam
that dots the sharp edge
of rocks
as waves collide
and recede
less than a word
uttered
in a gentle breeze:
less than the dust
I walk on,
which settles with no trace
of my imprint:
and I shall seem
to eternity, only
as a bird on the wind,
hovering lingering,
illustrating
a few circles over a lake,
the tip of my wing
barely touching
the water:
to be once more
tranquil waters,
between smooth banks,
caressed by the tip
of tender leaves:
before I am poured like water
like ash on the earth
For I
I am less than the foam
that dots the sharp edge
of rocks
as waves collide
and recede
less than a word
uttered
in a gentle breeze:
less than the dust
I walk on,
which settles with no trace
of my imprint:
and I shall seem
to eternity, only
as a bird on the wind,
hovering lingering,
illustrating
a few circles over a lake,
the tip of my wing
barely touching
the water:
Storms in Childhood
We are neat rows
of hard steel framed beds
weight of bodies in the dark,
of hard steel framed beds
weight of bodies in the dark,
heads turned sideways
installed for the night.
installed for the night.
Retinas burn
torchlight; body counts,
darkness hangs, numbers,
torchlight; body counts,
darkness hangs, numbers,
pain solitude.
we closed off
shaped sanctuary walls
where nothing could
touch us.
shaped sanctuary walls
where nothing could
touch us.
Outside the thick bluestone walls
exposed branches sway like whips,
lash the air,
and the shriek
of the wind penetrates
through the gaps in the dormitory;
echoes, a voice,
pious priest administering
the thick lash,
in tempo, bruising,
the dreadful sound suppressed, drowned
by the noise of the storm.
exposed branches sway like whips,
lash the air,
and the shriek
of the wind penetrates
through the gaps in the dormitory;
echoes, a voice,
pious priest administering
the thick lash,
in tempo, bruising,
the dreadful sound suppressed, drowned
by the noise of the storm.
In nights shrill cry
what large dark hands lift to winds,
wielded somber, menacing.
Stubborn, mute,
pale pallor wept within the dormitory;
outside snarled passionate savage anger.
His voice ominous,
tangible, sliced through night, “it’s finished”,
the lash ceased onslaught.
A child,
frayed whipped stripped bare,
rises to follow behind the priest.
Angry, silent,
irritable priestly hands stir air;
furious night whistles tempestuous sacraments,
wrath, unbridled,
penetrates glazed casements, obstinate as the limb
just lashed within.
Lightning
flashes on the window,
the priest, hand on the door instructs, withdraws
as jagged surges flare against the black frame.
In the room, centered,
two aged wooden chairs pushed together,
inflexible, stark in the yellow glow
my bed tonight.
I would be left alone,
cold seeping through frayed pajamas
alone in wretchedness, held by the night.
He would have it so.
My god
how this bruising pulsates.
It aches in me.
Choked by furies, thunder, lightening,
quivering fear weaves to a fleshed heart,
through the long night's darkness.
In the morning,
gusty winds blow, I look at mountain walls
through frosty panes, alone,
cut off from streets I have not walked.
Bells chime. Awaken.
In shadows, dawn awakens;
rich shallow fog veils remnants of night;
the sun captured, blunted by overcast skies.
I turn away.
A sea of faces lift,
gaze toward me, beds stripped, undressed,
lights glow; we shiver in the drafty room;
floorboards creak, footsteps approach, and
a new priest enters, scowls.
"Line up! Showers! Move!"
Water falls,
rolls over flesh; life is a sluice of sensations,
tepid water varies, hot and cold,
chilly air slaps you, crimson chilblains sting.
Showered, I grab a towel, dry myself,
sprint to the spartan dormitory.
It's a frenzied hive,
industriously preparing for inspection;
at the foot of our beds, eyes front, we stand,
avoid glancing at his scrutiny,
locker tidy; bedcovers straight and neat... strip it again?
How many times must we make a bed?
Anxiously,
we await his instructions.
"Chapel, ten minutes".
rich shallow fog veils remnants of night;
the sun captured, blunted by overcast skies.
I turn away.
A sea of faces lift,
gaze toward me, beds stripped, undressed,
lights glow; we shiver in the drafty room;
floorboards creak, footsteps approach, and
a new priest enters, scowls.
"Line up! Showers! Move!"
Water falls,
rolls over flesh; life is a sluice of sensations,
tepid water varies, hot and cold,
chilly air slaps you, crimson chilblains sting.
Showered, I grab a towel, dry myself,
sprint to the spartan dormitory.
It's a frenzied hive,
industriously preparing for inspection;
at the foot of our beds, eyes front, we stand,
avoid glancing at his scrutiny,
locker tidy; bedcovers straight and neat... strip it again?
How many times must we make a bed?
Anxiously,
we await his instructions.
"Chapel, ten minutes".
In single file,
I walked along glistening floorboards;
young hands continually toil, burnish them,
and the old stairwell,
which leads to the basement chapel.
It's beautiful; leadlight windows,
ground level color stunted by first light.
The altar is draped in purity;
multi-hued wall tapestries hang,
and cover arched brickwork.
Silently,
we file in to take our places.
The priest stood, somber...
in white-gold fluid garments, a crucifix before him,
his heavy hands lift in supplication before the altar -
higher, his voice rises in tempo, as he prays
for our salvation.
I did not know his god.
I did not know his god.
In the beginning, I did not know.
As a child
I never knew the moon
that birthed me,
or the storm that
sired me;
I never knew the moon
that birthed me,
or the storm that
sired me;
Sometimes I saw them
figments in my child's mind;
dreams which caused
pain.
… And now
I look at pictures
sent by a brother that I never
knew.
figments in my child's mind;
dreams which caused
pain.
… And now
I look at pictures
sent by a brother that I never
knew.
fragments
from my unfilled childhood.
from my unfilled childhood.
It is all
I had ever known.
I had ever known.
Central Station
They say
most of the brain
closes down under stress:
hearing Beethoven's
ninth symphony, taking back streets,
in your mind:
and it's arduous stuck
in reality,
with Huntsmen nearby, impassive
at Perth Central Station,
whilst listening for the clatter
on tracks, after midnight,
unnerved.
Knowing,
clockwork orange ticks, at hand,
hovering to strike.
The brain
kicks in survival mode, tense,
on the dais
waiting for safety,
a seat,
other souls, to join you:
it gets
lonely alone, hoping
the Samaritan on the road to Jerusalem,
will be around,
after
midnight.
(c) deBarnes November 2000 -20th
Final Reunion
For everyone my brother
there is this last migration:
kindled autumn leaves fall innately
to winters stroke,
continuance wafts in warm,
passage, across the stars,
beyond the residue of earths light.
there is this last migration:
kindled autumn leaves fall innately
to winters stroke,
continuance wafts in warm,
passage, across the stars,
beyond the residue of earths light.
In your final
fleeting flight, I knew with you,
I was carried within.
fleeting flight, I knew with you,
I was carried within.
Cruel circumstance tore us apart
shattering hours, minutes
of our expansive occasions together.
And we acknowledged
the appointed seasons set on us
by our upbringing,
losses endured, our parallel lives.
shattering hours, minutes
of our expansive occasions together.
And we acknowledged
the appointed seasons set on us
by our upbringing,
losses endured, our parallel lives.
Far-reaching
moments, our rendezvous'
short-lived reunion.
moments, our rendezvous'
short-lived reunion.
You traveled unclear paths
Years, to find seeds scattered,
and the trackless earth delivered
at the end.
And all that you sought in life
stood unearthed,
my brother,
Years, to find seeds scattered,
and the trackless earth delivered
at the end.
And all that you sought in life
stood unearthed,
my brother,
family.
Dedicated to:
Richard Henry William Barnes
1946 - 2000
Richard Henry William Barnes
1946 - 2000
(c) deBarnes July. 2000 -14
Symmetry
When I awakened,
I was tired of the dream:
I was tired of the dream:
The mirror told me
a sad-eyed man
stayed with me all night,
a sad-eyed man
stayed with me all night,
waiting.
for the dawn.
for the dawn.
(c) deBarnes September -04
Leave-Taking
When
you gathered me in,
there was no night,
there was no day,
merely
never-ending sunrise and
sunsets;
and when our lips burned,
ravenous
in ascendancy,
souls blazing the frenzied tides,
consummate,
I remember the ecstasy
that cascaded from your eyes,
that single tear
glistening
when you said you loved me.
And I,
I beseeched you, there in the darkness
for forgiveness,
for all the little things
that I,
I had taken, taken for granted,
with out thinking.
You said you were sorry too,
and we talked till
dawn.
Since you were taken
before our time
was fulfilled,
there are no subsequent endless nights ...
or days.
In the silence of the dawn
I awaken,
gaze at the rainbow
you cast, bonded in my being,
from all the precious moments
you gave to me.
I am sure
without your love, your wisdom,
I would, could not have
endured.
When we said
our final goodbye,
and I,
I was left alone
In silence.
(c) deBarnes May 2000 -22
When
you gathered me in,
there was no night,
there was no day,
merely
never-ending sunrise and
sunsets;
and when our lips burned,
ravenous
in ascendancy,
souls blazing the frenzied tides,
consummate,
I remember the ecstasy
that cascaded from your eyes,
that single tear
glistening
when you said you loved me.
And I,
I beseeched you, there in the darkness
for forgiveness,
for all the little things
that I,
I had taken, taken for granted,
with out thinking.
You said you were sorry too,
and we talked till
dawn.
Since you were taken
before our time
was fulfilled,
there are no subsequent endless nights ...
or days.
In the silence of the dawn
I awaken,
gaze at the rainbow
you cast, bonded in my being,
from all the precious moments
you gave to me.
I am sure
without your love, your wisdom,
I would, could not have
endured.
When we said
our final goodbye,
and I,
I was left alone
In silence.
(c) deBarnes May 2000 -22
untitled
where
none can touch
none can touch
but self
and love
and love
autumn leaves... grow restless.
(c) deBarnes July. 1999
Problematical
Possession
On a night's drive,
you go over the Narrows Bridge,
past corrugated iron, construction.
As you look up,
passing,
high atop King's Park, alight,
the memorial touches the tree line,
lined with names on plaques.
If they sailed, travelled time,
they would know the bugle blows,
the guns roar, early Anzac morning:
mist rising through memories,
In remembrance.
(c) deBarnes October 2000 -03
The Ache
It
is as if
it never happened,
as if
it never will take place again,
Religious
precepts splinter,
stir, continuously east,
pitiless as the sun.
Centuries of hatred boil desert sands;
the wind's bereavement
wails on walls ...
Candles burn bright in
each intimate's religion;
and what of the holy of holies,
Jerusalem?
Darkness falls once more,
earth trembles, walls fall,
and we are moved to nightmares.
I know
the beast, in two thousand years
never annihilated, rages
rampant.
Is the hour to come at last:
swarming Bethlehem
the cradle,
and if so
What shall be born?
(c) deBarnes October 2000 -10
precepts splinter,
stir, continuously east,
pitiless as the sun.
Centuries of hatred boil desert sands;
the wind's bereavement
wails on walls ...
Candles burn bright in
each intimate's religion;
and what of the holy of holies,
Jerusalem?
Darkness falls once more,
earth trembles, walls fall,
and we are moved to nightmares.
I know
the beast, in two thousand years
never annihilated, rages
rampant.
Is the hour to come at last:
swarming Bethlehem
the cradle,
and if so
What shall be born?
(c) deBarnes October 2000 -10
Final Reunion
For everyone my brother
there is this last migration:
kindled autumn leaves fall innately
to winters stroke,
continuance wafts in warm,
passage, across the stars,
beyond the residue of earths light.
there is this last migration:
kindled autumn leaves fall innately
to winters stroke,
continuance wafts in warm,
passage, across the stars,
beyond the residue of earths light.
In your final
fleeting flight, I knew with you,
I was carried within.
fleeting flight, I knew with you,
I was carried within.
Cruel circumstance tore us apart
shattering hours, minutes
of our expansive occasions together.
And we acknowledged
the appointed seasons set on us
by our upbringing,
losses endured, our parallel lives.
shattering hours, minutes
of our expansive occasions together.
And we acknowledged
the appointed seasons set on us
by our upbringing,
losses endured, our parallel lives.
Far-reaching
moments, our rendezvous'
short-lived reunion.
moments, our rendezvous'
short-lived reunion.
You traveled unclear paths
Years, to find seeds scattered,
and the trackless earth delivered
at the end.
And all that you sought in life
stood unearthed,
my brother,
Years, to find seeds scattered,
and the trackless earth delivered
at the end.
And all that you sought in life
stood unearthed,
my brother,
family.
Dedicated to:
Richard Henry William Barnes
1946 - 2000
Richard Henry William Barnes
1946 - 2000
(c) deBarnes July. 2000 -14
Materialization
Today I saw Picasso
in my kitchen;
he glanced at me mournfully,
a sinister, jaded green, stark within the frame
on my wall,
in my kitchen;
he glanced at me mournfully,
a sinister, jaded green, stark within the frame
on my wall,
thin, gaunt, haunted,
haunting eyes frail flesh, skin on bone.
haunting eyes frail flesh, skin on bone.
So much
grief
cleaved to canvas.
cleaved to canvas.
Did he ever understand,
understand
the impression, he would leave-
that millions would pass,
understand
the impression, he would leave-
that millions would pass,
through colors,
in to his world, of worlds within.
in to his world, of worlds within.
His gaze left me
feeling,
somehow, a work of art,
paint,
feeling,
somehow, a work of art,
paint,
ready to dry out,
drying,
deteriorating with age.
drying,
deteriorating with age.
I deduce one day,
my son will say of the picture
he holds of me,
my flesh, skin on bone, was pastel,
not jaded green.
my son will say of the picture
he holds of me,
my flesh, skin on bone, was pastel,
not jaded green.
and in my passing, I was no Picasso.
(c) deBarnes May 2000 -11
Anzac Memories - Kings
Park
On a night's drive,
you go over the Narrows Bridge,
past corrugated iron, construction.
As you look up,
passing,
high atop King's Park, alight,
the memorial touches the tree line,
lined with names on plaques.
If they sailed, travelled time,
they would know the bugle blows,
the guns roar, early Anzac morning:
mist rising through memories,
In remembrance.
(c) deBarnes October 2000 -03
The Ache
It
is as if
it never happened,
as if
it never will take place again,
this
rent in the fabric
of being.
rent in the fabric
of being.
It
is as if
space-time
binds
you in the void
of
non-existence.
is as if
space-time
binds
you in the void
of
non-existence.
It
is as if
graffiti cobwebs,
electrified
in the dark of mind,
burn.
is as if
graffiti cobwebs,
electrified
in the dark of mind,
burn.
It
is as if
it has to happen,
this
crushing
fist
inside a breast.
is as if
it has to happen,
this
crushing
fist
inside a breast.
It
is as if
the soul, torn,
bursts
in fire-stars.
It
is as if
it is all we have ever
sought:
is as if
the soul, torn,
bursts
in fire-stars.
It
is as if
it is all we have ever
sought:
love,
love makes it feel
like
it
never
happened
at all.
like
it
never
happened
at all.
(c) deBarnes October 2000 -07
Aroma of grass
Until I reclined
in summer's warmth,
aroused by the fragrance
of fresh cut grass,
blades piercing
into my disfigured flesh;
I didn't believe
I was back home from the hospice--
back stricken
from the conflict
of the surgeon's scalpel:
I started to rise
but the weight of the sun
flaunted my weakness,
Drunkenly, I climbed the hilltop
like a child, wrapped
in the sweet fragrance of grass.
(c) deBarnes July. 2000 -20
Episode
It was the wrong season
to reach beyond ambiance;
in retrospect
I should have stayed in bed,
waited another season, another time.
The suns ray's claw
tearing night's shroud, revealing mist hovering,
lingering... a lover
trembling for release from earth's bed.
I reached for you beside, futile,
you whom I do not know,
in this silent solitude:
to reach beyond ambiance;
in retrospect
I should have stayed in bed,
waited another season, another time.
The suns ray's claw
tearing night's shroud, revealing mist hovering,
lingering... a lover
trembling for release from earth's bed.
I reached for you beside, futile,
you whom I do not know,
in this silent solitude:
Its self-enlightening
coping isolated--
Dementias leap at you devour you
entice you.
coping isolated--
Dementias leap at you devour you
entice you.
I consider this dramatic joy
when space rushes up at you
to swallow you in deepest shadows,
when light touches inner fibre;
falling I call the wind, the elements to my side,
burrow in autumn's faltering bed.
If you hear anguished storms,
know they pass
across this island, cast in remoteness:
when space rushes up at you
to swallow you in deepest shadows,
when light touches inner fibre;
falling I call the wind, the elements to my side,
burrow in autumn's faltering bed.
If you hear anguished storms,
know they pass
across this island, cast in remoteness:
I reach for you
whoever you are; rise
break in to my existence...
waves across a desolate rock, pounding
to your touch:
We will meet at the next juncture
When the mist rises clear,
Where sails touch horizons,
Where twilight is absorbed
Setting patterns of tomorrows
Expectations.
whoever you are; rise
break in to my existence...
waves across a desolate rock, pounding
to your touch:
We will meet at the next juncture
When the mist rises clear,
Where sails touch horizons,
Where twilight is absorbed
Setting patterns of tomorrows
Expectations.
I wait for you.
(c) deBarnes August 2000 -08
(c) deBarnes August 2000 -08
Symmetry
When I awakened
I was tired of the dream.
I was tired of the dream.
The mirror told me
a sad-eyed man
stayed with me all night,
a sad-eyed man
stayed with me all night,
waiting,
Waiting for dawn.
Waiting for dawn.
To rise...
(c) deBarnes September -04
Pledge
A band of Gold,
worn faithfully thirty years
round her finger,
did not count in her favor.
He covets youth,
fears age,
turns on it like a predator
to absolve his fear:
age is his master,
and she,
she is cast aside, discarded.
Age treats her cruelly
in the autumn of life...
(c) deBarnes Revised August 2000 -12