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ALAN BARRETT ACTOR - WRITER - PERFORMER - ENTERTAINER

A SMALL SELECTION OF MY POETRY

NO ONE

When we were babies

We smiled when we were happy,

And cried when we were not.

We loved anyone who loved us,

Or fed us,

Or played with us.

We hated

No one.

We had no thought

That we were better than another

Because of our gender,

Or colour,

Or physical appearance,

Or mental capacity.

We mocked

No one.

We had little accidents

Like all other babies,

And threw up on our clothes,

And ate the dog food,

And wiped chocolate on the furniture

In equal amounts to all other babies.

We were different to

No one.

Only as we grew up

And listened to new ideas,

Hearing only the loudest voice,

Often belonging to the emptiest head,

Did our minds form opinions

To make the differences matter.

When the differences matter

It helps

No one.

Alan Barrett 10th September 1999

TEARS OF A CLOWN

Tiers of enjoyment

Engulfing the theatre seats

Abounding with smudged mascara

Running with tears, rescued from

Surely missed sorrow, to sorely mist

Optics. The buffoon watches, and smiles;

Fulsome applause welcomes continued banter.

All conquering jester, storyteller to

Cloud even the most abhorrent memory

Left by life. He who laughs last

Often laughs alone, and cries,

When allowed, for memories

None care to hear.

MANIC MEANDERINGS

Half past a quarter to seven

In the night time, during the day

I sprinted whilst hovergliding

On a stream spilling over with hay.

Down to the kangaroo’s igloo,

Where the mountains reached up to the sea

And froze in the hot soaking desert

In my sleeping bag, dancing with glee.

My watch, which I wasn’t wearing,

Said the time was a hundred and eight

So I hurried along without moving]

And strolled through the fence with no gate.

I smiled at the invisible person

I could see when I wiggled my knees,

And swam with the A-major ice cream

And sang with the green swimming bees.

Now to the folks who look without seeing

Who unlock a door so it shuts

My journey’s beginning is middle

And the end is, I’m totally nuts!

Alan Barrett June 1999

HEAD

Quarters

Wind Band

Line Fast

Butt Case

Cheese Sail Land Strong

Square Shrink

Bang Gear Lock

Light Room Board

Away Phones Rest

Down Teacher Rail

Set Off

Stand Waiter Stone

Man Scarf Way

Ache Hunt

First Piece

Less

commisioned as part of an exhibition

called HOMAGE aimed at highlighting

the forgotten innocents of war whose

suffering was, and is, as a direct result

of genocide, racial hatred or simply

being in the wrong place

at the wrong time.

RABBIT HABIT

Today my dog annoyed me,

he chased another rabbit.

but I suppose it’s better

than licking his bum –

a most disgusting habit!

TWO GARDENS

Once, before time, a garden arose from nothing.

Filled, scented, warmed, given life,

And all was wonder, and peace.

Deceit drove the tillers from the wonder,

And sadness reigned at their loss.

Peace remained, but distanced.

Later, a garden grown from toil and sweat,

Saw tears and terror, pain and injustice

Soil its tender fragrance.

Yet all gardens have seasons, and time,

To regain former glories, and this one

Saw also the beginning, of wonder, and peace.

Alan Barrett 29th March 1997

GOD SAT

I screamed and shouted

“What in the name of sanity

is going on?”

God sat.

Impassive, listening,

And let me continue

I beat my fists on His chest

And threw myself to the floor

Thrashing and kicking

God sat.

Unflinching, watching

And let me continue

I hurled abuse and blame,

Daring Him to respond

So I could smash His argument

God sat.

Patiently, silent,

And let me continue

Finally, when I had spent my

Anger and frustration,

I cried.

Only then did He move.

Taking me gently in His arms,

God sat, crying with me.

Alan Barrett 10th July 1996

A POEM DOESN’T HAVE TO RHYME

The way to write poetry is

To let it flow

To watch it settle

To draw a word picture

To be unafraid

If it

Doesn’t scan

Doesn’t rhyme

Doesn’t have a meter

Doesn’t have verses

Or a chorus

Oh yeh

Or a chorus

To remember that it is simply another

Form of communication

Form of art

Form of language use

Form of expression

To realise that

Your words

Your thoughts

Your feelings

Your message(s)

Are as important as mine.

Alan Barrett 7th September 1999

JUST ONE MISTAKE

Just one mistake – to fall in love

Or love as she once told herself

Should always be

Just one mistake – to tell the boy

A man he has to now become

For two are three

The tears burn – a river flows

From cheek to chin, the boy once kissed

So tenderly.

A broken heart – to match the promise

The boy had made, and now a man

He’ll never be.

The burden grows – and now alone

She has to face the shock and pain

The looks of pity, scorn, disdain

And listen to the old refrain

Of love disguised as anger –

- wounding her again.

LERNING

Im lerning how too reed you no,

And how two rite az wel,

And wen I’ev dun them both enouf,

I’l fined owt how too spel.

SCHOOL HAIKU

School again today

Not that I mind going, but

Weekends are better

Alan Barrett 7th September 1999

BUTTERFLY

Butterfly emerging from your skillfully wound sack

That’s kept you safely covered from your enemy’s attack

Gently the unfolding of your wings in summer glory

Shows how amazing nature is as we retell your story.

For now you fly and pollinate all kinds of plant and flower

And even though you’re fragile, you exert the greatest power

Without you we might never see the seeds of next years wonder

So flutter by, dear butterfly. Enjoy your pollen plunder.

HOMEPAGE

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