Jack of Hearts Queen of Hearts Jack of Spades Poem by Phil Coyote

by Phil Coyote
The Jack of Hearts
who gave us new starts
had his brain blown away in Dallas’ Dealey Plaza
as the whole world watched
by television.
The Queen of Hearts
who unchained hearts
rode the pure white steed
went downstairs to buy some cigarettes
and went back up to her room
and breathed her last breath
of LA’s smog
so says our Pravda.
The Jack of Spades
who gave electric, life changing serenades
and freed the slaves
mixed pills and wine
and left for all time
in a London ambulance
choked to death.
The Lizard King
who could do anything
and change your mind
when he’d sing
rode the pure white steed
that he never, ever would heed
and found his only friend
the end
in a bathtub
in the City of Lights
The walrus who everyone knew
like a Jesus Jew
who’d help you to do what’s true
was shot by an intelligentsia sleeper
in the Big Apple
another Casualty In America

Barefoot Review

bare footprint

Barefoot Review

Principals:  Jason Teeple (Founder)  Mel Glenn   Nicholas Gordon   Amy King    Jamie Sue Austin


In their words:

The Barefoot Review publishes original written work by people who have or have had physical difficulties in their lives, from cancer to seizures, Alzheimer’s to Lupus. It is also a place for caretakers, families, significant others and friends to write about their experiences and relationships to the person. They are a vital part to being able to live with an illness.

Some websites aren’t like others. Most websites emerge because of profit, ego, or simply personal expression. In all of these ventures good can occasionally be done. There are a few websites, like people, that emerge because of a giant need to somehow be a candle in the darkness. When you encounter such a place, it is a time to bow and honor. We are proud to bring the Barefoot Review to your attention..

Long ago and Far Away, a Panther Sings his Song by Dandelion de La Rue

Long ago and Far Away, a Panther Sings his Song

Brave and rude
young Panther
smile and eyes
so cynical
from 17 hard years
and Sixties
grime and glitter

I’d like to find you
thank you,
for my education.
Where are you now?
An old man,
white haired
This isn’t what we
planned, expected,

This isn’t why
we read those books
all those books
and talked philosophy
and politics
late into the night.

We wanted love
peace, tolerance
not hatred.
We never thought
of fear.

We were
The People.
There were no strangers
just friends
we hadn’t met.

We scoffed at
those who
wanted things.
We wanted nothing,
just the air
and midnight dancing streets
and friends.

We needed nothing.
We had youth,
and hope.

Where are you now,
my youthful guru
I think of you.

July Poem

My mother was born
in July
and my wife
was born and died in
That makes July a
two thirds
a pretty good month,
certainly hot,
but warm for sure.

I can recommend the month generally
but have had problems with it.

david michael jackson

We Needed The Rain Poem

We so  needed the rain.

We prayed for it.

I sat on the porch and watched it

hit the parched earth.

The grass had long ago turned dormant,

brown and dead


like the crops

like us

we prayed for the rain

for the farmer


and when it finally came

the trees looked happy

the droplets disappeared

and the ground was still dry

it takes a day for the water to finally run

in streams down the gulleys

becoming brown with the earth.


I sat with my cat

and noticed the rain this time


It is because we so needed the rain

that we played in it

that we felt as if

it had never rained before.


Send Rain

These words in these blocks

and these buttons

these spots on the screen

are seen by

a boy in Puerto Rico then

a girl in Mississippi then

a man in Samoa then

a woman in China.

I can hear them applaud for me.

in my heart of hearts.

I can feel your heart beating

in my fingertips.

I can hear the wind blowing on the beach in Samoa

through the trees in Mississippi,

and I can see your eyes reading these words

from so far away.

We need rain here.

Send prayers for rain

for the crops

for peace

for love.


Puerto Rico!


Water Poem by David Michael Jackson

The hot summer sun
makes cake of my skin
and the sweat lets me know
I’m alive

the water
is better then

it is needed then

and noticed

Can a poem be the water on a hot day

can the water flow down
this page
this poem

this time or the next
until there is no next

no new

of the water in a poem until it lies there in a pool on the page, on this page