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

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
smarter
maybe
disappointed.
This isn’t what we
planned, expected,
wanted.

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
then,
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
teacher?
I think of you.

My mother was born
in July
and my wife
was born and died in
July
That makes July a
two thirds
proposition,
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 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.

 

The Magic Touch of Strangers

 

The touch

of strangers

in a crowded bus

my arm

against another’s

trading warmth

and energy.

 

I feel good, the

shared aliveness

somehow magic

thinking, silently,

that I am

one of us

at least for now.

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.

Hello

Puerto Rico!

 

Songs and Lyrics with Play Buttons

~~

The mermaids sang
to lusty Zorba
I am sure, but not to
Prufrock, so he said,
he of tiny
dibs and dabs
of life, drizzled on
his plate with tiny
spoons.

Did he regret
what he had missed?
I think he did.
I see him sadly
staring at the waves,
hoping for
a second chance,
but fearing,
ever fearing,
nearly everything.

I see so
many Prufrocks
on the news,
they’re so afraid
of getting hurt
and so afraid
of life without
insurance.

But those who
guzzle life
from gallon jugs,
I think the
mermaids love them.