Sailing Too Close to the Wind

Sailing Too Close to the Wind

by Helen Barter

Battered, bashed and

half drowned in cliches:

"you were my anchor, I am all at sea."

Waiting

Waiting

by Helen Barter

One step, two step, 

patiently round and 

round the overgrown garden,

the weeds binding my toes

to the slow rhythm of the pacing.

Powder Blue Shirt

Powder blue shirt, and

button-up flies.

Grey shorn soft

over pink scalp 

and ruddied cheeks

Indulgent belly 

stands firm

and I am still a 

woman of obsession.

Mother

Mother

By Helen Barter

She recognises in him

A bright openness to

All the possibilities 

Of the world.

But she can't remember

Seeing it in her own children.

She only remembers 

Pushing, forcing down.

Not able to cope with

Another bloody child walking.

Poet

Poet

by Helen Barter

Poet - 

when you write

are you a pianist

practising your scales

or an artist

drawing from life?

Is living life

and using words 

all you need

to call yourself poet?

A poem a day, 

keeps the doctor away.

Away from you, poet?

Or from me?