Daddy's Money

All the gold and riches Daddy made,

Have done to me, more harm than good.

The calling of a dollar, I eagerly obeyed,

But happiness was something, I never understood.

Oh how I loved the lime light, and the company of rich folks,

I, the prodigal son, who played so well, the part of clown.

I kept them all in stitches, plied with drink and smoke,

As I led my jolly caravan, all about the town.

Fast cars and faster women, were at my beckoned call,

Just a snap of my fingers, lay them at my feet.

Though I sat tall in my saddle, I was riding, for a fall,

Never could play by the rules, always had to cheat.

Once I had a wife, she was a keeper I would wager,

Had hair of silk and eyes that twinkled bright.

But my antics and behavior, seemed only to enrage her,

Then she left my gilded tower, when she finally saw the light.

But my pals, they still love me, because I’ve got lots of money,

When I foot the bill, They all tell me that I’m swell.

All the guys pat my back and the girls, they call me honey,

You bet, I’m always smiling, truth is I live in Hell.

I’ve never had a callous, upon my hands so soft,

Never spent a day, toiling in a filthy ditch.

I never saw the wonder, in the Moon and stars aloft,

Never had to work or worry, never found my niche.

The misery is killing me, Somehow it has to end,

I’m headed for oblivion, down the road I trod.

I need so much, but most of all ,I need a friend,

He’s been there all along for me, I found my friend in God.

Michael J Barker           2003

Spring Has Sprung

The weather’s still unsettled, The lawns are growing rampant,

And once again the trees all wear a regal crown of green.

The garden’s tilled and planted, basking stately in the Sun,

The birds all seem contented as they bathe and chirp and preen.

The cows are glad to graze again, encumbered with new calves,

And the crows are calling, mocking, from their perches in the trees.

The bull frogs boom in chorus from their pads down on the pond,

And the orchard is alive with the buzzing swarms of bees.

The spotted fawns bounce playfully, at the clearing in the woods,

The bucks are sporting fuzzy knobs between their twitching ears.

The evening air is laden, with the sweet smell of cut grass,

And the coyotes howl so mournfully as their daylight disappears.

And I am lightly leaning, on the hoe I should be swinging,

Watching herds of clouds stampeding ‘cross the sky.

Me oh my, how times flies, I’m afraid that I must leave,

My iron skillet beckons for a mess of trout to fry.

Michael J Barker  2013