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Barry DeCarli
This website is no longer one I use, although you might still be able to purchase my books here. Please visit my poetry blog at Thanks. -Barry
        ​​------Welcome to my website. I am hoping to use this site as a place to share my poetry, old and recent, with willing and interested readers. I'll also try to include some music (please use the Music tab) that I really like.

        Be sure to visit
me on facebook and at ferrisburgh-antique-company(seller name) on eBay.
        Find a couple poems below. Also, please click on the Poems tab above for more.  Let me know what you think here.

        My second book of poems,         Almost published in 1979 by Poor Pigeon Press is available for $8.95 plus $2.00 for postage. Also offered is a scarce lightly used copy of my first book,         Of Sun And Rainpublished in 1973, for $45.00 plus $2.00 for postage. Payment can be made via Paypal by using the Buy Now button.
like father, like son

wanting to pour poetry
      from a bottle
      of Pinot Grigio
      to uncork the perfect pairing 
      of words and emotion
      in an untitled document
      trying to escape the collision
      of headache and hope with
      the right metaphor
      stoking my muse there in the wine
      my poem scrapes against the easiness
      of inkjet black on white

      he stood unsteadily
      the car was his vehicle
      driven with a practiced recklessness
      he sought to slake a more primal thirst
      I never understood
      as the bourbon burned his throat
      then softly drenched
      his drought of dreams
      for a while he found forgiveness
      fulfillment there in the bottle

      his Oldsmobile keyed with barbed wire
      while taking out the farmer’s fence

      there was nothing easy about his poetry
      of rubber and speed
      steel and noise

Barry DeCarli 
        April 15, 2010 (6)
        Copyright 2010 Barry DeCarli


      first feeling the heat of emotion
      tears flowing
      being held back
      a choked-up gratitude
      a misplaced relief
      that the dirge
      the solemn music is not for you

      shaking sweaty hands
      kissing blurry-eyed faces
      rouged cheeks grazing
      stale perfume stealing breath

      touching but distantly
      waiting for the open air
      the cumulus shadows
      the shafts of god light
      through the pines
      a last prayer in the cemetery
      then a chance to have a drink
      loosen a tie, wipe off smeared make-up
      proffer a smile

      dare to laugh…

      Barry DeCarli
      August 13, 2010
      Copyright 2010 Barry DeCarli
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