Tag Archives: Danny P. Barbare


by Danny P. Barbare

Oh dear Emily from what depths
Of your death I hear
I do so sincere
As the loneliness of white
That commands you in your plight
As visitor does knock maybe
Once or twice
A garden far from night
I hear your carriage wheels
The school, you have no will
But your packets aren’t to be sewn
No needle thread for history
As your poems not at recess
So many flies on wall
As I hear somebody—
That sweet lie
That slender fellow that leaps
Across oceans—the world
The horse’s heads, poems
Are toward eternity, Emily.
Thank you so very, very much.


Robert Frost’s Winter Poem

by Danny P. Barbare

In the night is where it begins,
As quiet as
The snow swirling
Through the headlights.
The heater blows warm air.

I have dreams to fulfill and
Miles and
Miles to go and promises
To keep like Robert
Frost said in the downy
Flake so cold as the road
Winds through
The foothills of the
Carolinas, far from New England,

Yet yesterday in a wood not
Far from a
Village where a horse
Shook his harness
As a farm was no
Where near, where
A poet stopped to
Rest, the land owner
Didn’t know. As to Frost
The silence must
Have been music to his ears.

The Widow

by Danny P. Barbare

She mourns in the woods for
Her son in gray, or blue,
The babbling creek of blood
The peace of a dove
A bayonet of light
The rolling shout of cannons
The death of tall trees
The cemetery of pastures
The memory of a flower
A Southern Magnolia
A Northern White Pine
A prayer in time
A bullet of kindness
The coldness of a bugle at taps.