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CK Baker Nov 2021
he wasn’t so much a peddler
(as many had quietly assumed)
more of a rural shuffler
or social inchworm
than a mover and a shaker

but boy
could he dish out those jabs
and ad lib on a whim
and draw sweet melodies
from that broken 6 string
all night long

carving out reflections
oh, those deep intuitive divinations!
steadily preaching
on the breathtaking joys
and fruits
of the vibrant land

grow your own
seeds to be sown
clean and green
a nourishing machine!

silver linings (straight from truth room)
clearly seen
from those uncompromised
garden views

casting his baited lines
from softly pebbled shores
(his nanna, and poppa
were there, years before)
giving grace…
and basking deeply
in the bounty of the fenua

his love of life was insatiable
moving from town to town
to nourish his soul
digging way beyond the deep
for that shrouded purpose
that soulful existence
that many spend a lifetime
looking to find

three boats settle
in the quiet harbor
a net shed basking in the sand
peaceful and serene
(with a hint of emerald green)
Sunset red
with crawfish (and lemongrass)
to keep us
bountifully fed
CK Baker Sep 2021
Well we jumped on the wing
for a good Irish fling
kicked off the week
with a boiler

The banter was high
as we took to the sky
nothing in sight
was a spoiler

And the red eye at night
was a captain’s delight
we spread on the seat
of the liner

Arrived just in time
for a whale of a time
at the Temple Bar
and Diner

Well the Dublin scene
in the Old College Green
was wired and alive
on the corner

Where me and me' mates
paired in at the gates
there were welcoming arms
to us foreigners

And we sang through the night
and grinned in delight
with banjos, pipes
and lasses

Drinking whiskey and beer
in a boatload of cheer
the rooster got lost
in the masses

The **** in the walk
was out on the stalk
a wee little flute
on display

His shoulders were pinned
with a great big grin
they were such
peculiar ways!

Well we found em next day
(in a sauntering way)
got tossed in
all the commotion


What happened to you?
said he hadn’t a clue
or any
baldy notion!

Hit the road to Howth
little east, little south
the seaside town
was groovin

Found the Cobblestone Pub
for a jar and a scrub
the seabird sounds
were soothin

Then we jumped a train
in the lashing rain
the Belfast craic
was mighty

Hit the Thirsty Goat
with a parching throat
some Tullamore Dew
for a nighty

In the Crumlin jail
the spirits set sail
the IRA
was gaffin

There was Bobby Sands
in celestial lands
alive and proud
and laughin

The Griffin dance
was the final chance
the evening closed
in nigh

And we made our way
through the Chelsea lanes
to say our
final good bye

~ ~ ~ ~

Singing
Ay, oh…let it all go
safe haven in the wasteland!

Singing
Slainte’…take me away
to the old Irish sounds
of the band!
CK Baker Aug 2021
Some days we'd lay about the milled plank deck
eyes to the sky
shoulders pinned
deliberating
on the hickory trees
and pillow clouds
and heavenly contrails

the warm caress  
of a mid-summer wind
whispering through the hayfields
coondog at our side
sandhill crane still
feet in the shallows
of the Haldimand pond

a soft trickle coming
from the Pickerel stream
creaks from the woodshed whistle
as the Massey Ferguson
putters her way
up the county line

catharsis in place
(in this ethereal space)
just a garden variety day
...with fire ants
and fowler toads
and golden honey bees
Haloed harlot in the midnight moonlight
      To dance beside your spectral grace
      The fluid motions of your body so tight
      Together we will set the pace

      Misty shadows of towering mountains
      Lakes and streams cool waters flow
      Towards the oceans like shining fountains
      And beauties we’ll forever know
Strange as it might seem this is about the martial arts warrior's stance.
CK Baker Jul 2021
A salute to the heroes
who battle the blaze
of raging infernos
with billowing haze

they drop into combat
in smouldering heat
a ****** forest
holds little retreat

brothers* in arms
who forge the attack
scaling the landscape
with 60 lb packs

down in the valleys
and up through the hills
hectares burning
as time stands still

bombers and copters
descend from the air
as dozers dig trenches
with no time to spare

the enemy rages
and embers rush
the firestorm flames
consume the brush

an evening ignited
in blood orange sky
candling trees
with tinder dry

may we always remember
the fighters of flames
who battle the burn
without any fame

saving families, and cities
wildlife and ward
a charred streaked face
their quiet reward
*and sisters!

🔥…ignited by sparks
or a discarded roach,
when using the forest
mind your approach! 🔥
CK Baker Jan 2021
I’m itchin for a tender
to serve me up a brew
with a couple wiley pals
it’ll surely be a few!

We’ll hoist a couple pinters
gobble up some wings
break the quips and banter
with a lyric that’ll sting!

fin
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