I created this erasure poem from a paragraph in my work in progress.
By Kelly F. Barr
A burst of warm air
And the scent of horses.
She stepped into the parlor.
Checkers —
Read; many kings.
Who was winning?
Wait for the outcome.
Just a few more moves
And Johnny was the victor!
Cookies
by Kelly F. Barr
Cookies are a favorite treat;
An easy take-along snack
That’s sweet and fun to eat;
Enjoyable by the handful, bagful, or stack.
Some like their cookies crisp and crunchy;
Some like their cookies soft to chew.
They satisfy a case of the munchies.
Most can’t resist eating “just a few”.
What kind of cookie do you like best–
Oatmeal raisin, molasses, or chocolate chip?
Finding the perfect cookie can be quite a quest;
But when you find it, you’ll want to flip.
Horse
strong, fast
working, galloping, grazing
saddle, animal, rider, man
riding, wrangling, repairing
diligent, rugged
cowboy
The Coffee Shop
by Kelly F. Barr
Oh the hustle and bustle
Over coffee and tea;
Regular or latte–
What flavor will it be?
People chatting, eating,
Looking at their phones;
Conducting business, studying,
Or writing in their zone.
Those who need a pick-me-up
Make it their early morning stop.
Others leisurely sip their choice
At their favorite coffee shop.
A Bundle of Joy
by Kelly F. Barr
Ten little fingers;
Ten tiny toes;
Eyes full of wonder
And a button nose.
These are the makings
Of a bundle of joy.
It really doesn’t matter
If it’s a girl or a boy.
Swaddled snugly in a blanket
Wrapped in my arms.
You hold my gaze captive
With your plentiful charms.
False Comfort
by Kelly F. Barr
“God is a farce!”
“When you die, that’s the end–
There is no heaven and hell.”
These are your mantras
Until someone you love dies.
Loss is painful;
Seeking comfort
Now you utter,
“She’s in a better place”;
“He’s no longer suffering”.
A Writer’s Lament
by Kelly F. Barr
Characters and ideas crowd my mind
In numbers enough to fill many books.
My psyche races, my heart thuds.
But my fingers on the keyboard fall behind.
People in my head won’t leave me alone
Constantly nudging me to peck at the keys.
Their loves, their struggles, their adventures
They want made known.
If only there were enough hours to flesh them out.
My jotted notes on endless scraps of paper
Do nothing to quiet them.
“Write faster,” they shout.
My forehead breaks out in a sweat
Through each day filled with endless tasks
My brain creates scene after scene.
Two years and not a single novel finished yet.
Blood pulses to my brain
Pushing to find the proper words
In sequence without repetition,
While my heart hopes this work is not in vain.
The Briskness of Fall
by Kelly F. Barr
Fall comes in
With a chilly breeze;
I am enthralled by a ballet
Of dancing leaves.
Through leaves on the ground
Playful, busy squirrels scamper;
In my front yard, robins abound
Fueling their bodies as temps become damper.
Soon they’ll fly south and others will follow.
As the cold winds blow, less songs the birds sing
Will reach my ears as I stay warm; my heart a bit hollow,
Until robins and warm breezes return in the spring.
Misty and the Children
by Kelly F. Barr
Lots of voices float through the air;
The laughter of children tickles my ears.
Multiple grades and ages; as Misty sits and stares.
Her tiny head and ears twitch at the sounds of the dears.
Misty’s little body usually trembles and she barks loudly
For she was a rescued dog and people cause her fear.
Right now she sits alone, upright, proudly
Until the chattering children draw near.
Then she rises, body shaking, as she moves away.
The younger children would like to touch her
But she runs to her owner where she stays
As she watches and in her throat rumbles a “grrr”!
The Moral Code
by Kelly F. Barr
Manners, respect, and consideration–
These things seem to be lost
in the current generation.
Kindness seems to have a cost.
Self has risen to the top
Of every desire, every thought.
Authority and rules should drop
Unless infringement upon them is caught.
A negative word about negative behavior
And touting character and strong morals
Makes me judgmental; a hater,
While they spew judgment in plurals.
Just below the surface, anger burns–
A wrong look or wrong word and it explodes.
Oh, how my heart yearns
For a return to the moral code.
Kelly F Barr 