A SESTINA FOR BRIAN

How being born on Christmas Day can make
some people think that you have this passion
for being so compassionate and construct
all sorts of things like Christ the Great Carpenter
did for living spaces of all levels
of human dwelling. You have always had to create
things for dwelling spaces and you always change
It’s like you have been going in your innate passion
since you were a baby. I saw you in winter, to make
a snow igloo. You had everything planned and constructed
this igloo right by the side of the house. It had this level
of true sophistication for a boy of your age. You could create
wonderful things: towers and tree forts and then change
to art work to decorate our house.
Brian, I’ve known you to go out of your way to make
breakfast for us. I remember the strange passion
you had and made us peanut butter and banana constructions
of pancakes. You did all sorts of culinary things on the level
of perfection to even make the best chefs just create
something to quench their envy of you. You never change
Now, when you got older, you still possessed this desire to make
you went through Penn State Ogontz and kept up this passion
to create other things and learn enough to construct
buildings but you needed the education to earn a living to create
things with your hard-earned degree and actually change
and re-arrange houses or interior of places on a different level
Why your inner mental and emotional makeup came out in such passion
that all who came into contact with you when you failed to construct
a certain project to your own perfectionistic liking and it made
you very angry and you used such profanity and it just changed
you from this compassionate and soft hearted soul into creating a raving demon out of you.
The way that you used to go out of your way and created
A wonderful family unit from a wife to a pair of children made
you bring out another facet of your personality: the father level
The two children came out of that union as some construct

from your desire to keep on creating through this passion
to keep up on revising and re-building so that you always change

@2006 Linda Barrett

Let God Feed You  
As He did for Israel’s children
By bringing them manna from Heaven
Let God clothe you-
As he clothes the field’s lilies
Who neither toil nor spin
For their garments but
They are far more richly attired
Than King Solomon’s most glorious clothes
Let God refresh you
who restored Eliljiah
the prophet who begged for death
in the desert’s wilderness
Instead God sent him
angels and crows bringing
two days’ worth of food
  Let God provide for you-
As He provides
for the smallest sparrows
Who perch in the trees
He still catches them
When they die
Let God care for you
For He knows what
Your needs are
Before you can think of them
@2003, 2005, 2010 Linda Barrett















August Evening
@2010 Linda Barrett

In the eternal gilded August humidity
You come to me
Dressed in tiger lilies
With your sunflower smile
Your copper hair blows in a breeze
Even if we stay awhile
Our love still lingers
But I must let you go
My August treasure
Your golden soul
That I cannot measure
Flies from my open fingers

Justin: Born On Wheels
@2012 Linda Barrett

You always lived on wheels:
a newborn infant
perched in a car seat
beside your mother
when she drove
Her 1973 Green Impala
The toy Knight Rider car
was your first one
It cursed at you
from its imaginary dashboard
You hummed your open road song
while holding onto
the sides of the Red
Wheel barrow
as I bumped you along
our back yard’s stone walkway
Out in Chester County,
you roller bladed
and skate boarded into adolescence
Every Spring Break,
You traveled in
your grandparent’s  station wagon
down to Florida
One winter,
you drove to Colorado by van
to snow board the mountains
Other guys chose college,
you took your mechanic grandfather’s cue
studied up in Boston
learned how to fix cars
inside and out
then put them back together again
You inherited the 1973 Green Impala
with its torn off vinyl top
let it go to rust and to the junkyard
then bought Red 1968 Ford pick-up
Your mother gave you a motorcycle
so you could scream down the Turnpike
with your Independence Day spirit
Nothing out on the road
can stop you
as if you were born
on wheels

Let all that you do be done with love
@2011 Linda Barrett

After the flowers have wilted
and the passion is gone
how can you hold up your love
and keep it going strong?
Let all that you do be done with love
Love means having to wear your special dress
it also means cleaning up
after leaving a mess
Let all that you do be done with love
While *** is a blast
and its aftermath fun
love only works
in selfless interaction
Let all that you do be done with love
you even have to take out the trash
in the pouring rain
you also have to listen
to one of you complain
Let all that you do be done with love
It may be shown in the words
You always have to say
It’s even more important
embracing after a bad day
Let all that you do be done with love
The Chinese symbol of love
is a heart drawn with feet
Only through your actions
can love be made complete
Let all that you do be done in love

Lobsters
@2014 Linda Barrett

They sit in the cramped corners
of the water tank
face each other
armored claws bound
with thick rubber bands
These shelled warriors
take on boxer’s stances
wait  their chance
to attack each other
in impromptu bouts
They step over one another
pick fights for dominance
of their watery ring
Some desperate crustaceans
decide to make their escape
reach out for the tank’s top
but fall over backwards
onto each other
Those lucky ones
usually win
when the Seafood man
in his white coat
pulls them out
makes the champions
of someone’s dinner.

Memories of Malinda
@2013 Linda Barrett

Whenever I saw you at your computer terminal,
my heart pounded with fear
You stood five feet and two inches tall
weighing twice your size
obesity bloated you
In your tight velvet tunic and tights
Your face resembled a ball of fat
lips ****** out in a sullen pout
Small brown eyes glared
At your computer monitor
underneath  your bobbed golden hair,
you held onto vindictive bitterness
hatched plots and drama
from all the television shows
you came home to watch
after keying in millions of medical forms
for five days a week
and seven hours a day
The hatred you felt in life
came out in disgust
and revulsion for me
You despised me for being the way I am:
told everyone in the office
of all of my crimes
against common sense and logic
How I couldn’t do anything right
I sneezed in my hands
keyed in the wrong information
picked my pimples in public
forgot to wash my hands
after going to the bathroom
To get rid of me once and for all
You took matters into your own hands
When our supervisor went on maternity leave,
you sabotaged my work
on the computer
verbally abused me every day
played cruel games on me
whispered about me
to your catty little friends
as I sat directly behind you
at my desk
until I started calling out sick
then searched for a psychiatrist
To unscramble my brain
and discover


why I couldn’t keep down a job
like other “normal” people
For a final analysis
I sought out God
If I prayed hard enough,
would He hear me
and pull me from the miry
clay of my office torment
or let this woman win?
I doubted Him at first
until two others caught
you in the act of sabotage
wrestled the claims I entered
into the company’s data base
Out of your self-made drama,
you almost lost your job
When Human Resources investigated
the other department’s members
about the sabotage issue,
you escaped from their questions
by fleeing for the parking lot
and speeding for home
You tried to get your friends
to gang up and save your job
from the others
who exposed your tricks
of data entry daring  do
The quiet speaking blonde H.R. manager
decided to demote you down
to a regular clerk
You went into tantrums
when the new auditor
revealed the mistakes
you used to hide from us
slammed your document folders
over her overhanging desk lamp
spat out obscenities
In childish rage
After a few years,
you quit your discouraging job
said to everyone
you found work
at a dentist’s office
in far away Dublin, Pa.
Even after two decades,
Why do I still
fearfully cringe
whenever I think of you?

One night in Provincetown
@2013 Linda Barrett


On my niece Jessica’s wedding
in the middle of July
The three of us weren’t invited
for the wedding rehearsal dinner
Instead of staying around the hotel,
That night
we went out on our own fun
just Alex, Kathy and I

We walked into Provincetown
searching for a place to eat
Looked at all the menus
and what entree to buy
discovered Pepe’s Wharf
sat on its deck
watched the Coast Guard’s fleet
ate boiled lobster and french fries
just the three of us
Alex, Kathy, and I

Our waiter, Derek, adored Alex
with his excellent restaurant manners
Two Lesbians admired his etiquette
A young straight couple made it complete
with their unified, approving sigh
Everyone on the deck admired us
Alex, Kathy, and I

On the Deck,
We linked our glasses in a toast
Alex with his Shirley Temple cocktail
Kathy with her white wine
Me with my diet Coca Cola
Smitten Derek played the host
told us of the pirates museum
the one that made Alex hum
we all thought it was fine
to see it with him
We left Pepe’s wharf
with our spirits high
toured the rest of Provincetown,
Alex, Kathy, and I







We walked upon cobblestone streets
still the same since
the 18th century
Ancient homes stood as witnesses
to the tall woman in
her Sonoma  sun dress
the red haired boy with the necktie
the middle aged woman
Clad in turquoise and white
and black high heeled sandals
' wandering on a Friday night
wondering residents passed us by
as we walked on the pavement
we impressed them all
Alex, Kathy, and I

The evening grew dark
we walked wherever we went
Motorcycles roared on the street
Drag queens dressed to the nines
We went into the stores
Stared at by dogs and artists
Kathy led me to a boutique
called Toho
bought a bracelet for my wrist
something unique
Alex got a Bear Claw pie
We astounded the parade
with our differences
and the commotion they made
at  Alex, Kathy, and I
We found out of the night
footprints of some African cat
from some bright yellow paint
followed their shiny way
down a side street
Kathy tried not to laugh
where it ended
A place called
the Kofu Kafe
Seretta the owner entertained us
with her South African thrills
displayed for Alex
Kalahari porcupine quills
We drank coffee
and South African sweets
let the time slowly fly
under the cafe’s sparkling ceiling
Just Alex, Kathy and I





At around ten
We three took off
Down the dark streets
To roam
I led  the way
with my feeble flashlight
Shining upon uneven cobblestones
walked past hand holding men
try to get ourselves
to our temporary home
silently say good bye
to our new found friends
and return to our beds
Alex, Kathy, and I

Seven Caesars

A haven in Bensalem
To come in from the storm
The Banquet Hall from Heaven
A zesty place to keep warm
Seven gilded statues wearing breastplates
All seven with spears and raised golden fingers
Its lavish atmosphere scintillates
The overall effect still lingers
Long after the garlic aftertaste
Has departed from your tongue
Sumptuous food will never waste
The ambience is always fun
Pizzaro had his City of Gold
Ponce De Leon had his Fountain of Youth
But we’ve found our treasure hold
Ride Route One North for the proof

@1995, 2006 Linda Barrett















A Time for Love
@2013 Linda Barrett

Two lovers
On Society’s opposite sides
Meet together:
One upholding its
Age Limit laws
Preventing citizens from living
Past their expiration dates
The other
seeks the Spirit world
for answers
Outside of Society’s rules
Both unite as a single unit
Run from the Eye
Which sees them both
Seer and Reaper
Two individuals divided
Against One Society
Add love to the formula
Now what is the product?

To Two Nonnas
@2007 Linda Barrett
We can't afford to go to Italy
So you both bring it to us
We hear in the music of your names,
each syllable coming from your mouths,
vocal chords and tongues
that dance fast Italian tarantellas
from your shared cubicle
You both should have been sisters
Born on the same month
And sailed into America
on the same ship.
You bring us Italy
through your cooking:
olive oil drenched cole slaw
made zesty with ground pepper and salt,
amaretto cookies placed on our desks
deep fried calamari rings
at the Willow Grove Bennigan's
and Italian restaurants
in a Maple Glen shopping center.
You both embrace us
with still strong Nonna arms
and crochet bright pink baby clothes
for expecting employees.
On the weekends,
you become bocce ball champs
in Montgomery County
where Italian is still spoken,
To uphold up the old country's heritage
This poem comes out
from our love to you
because just by being our friends
we want to save all our pennies
to see what Italy is really like.