The driver at the traffic light is waiting for a change.
The new kid on the block is feeling kind of strange.
The sacrificial lamb still doesn't know its fate.
An old man sits thinking he's probably too late.
The clock in the hallway struggles to keep time.
The poet in his study is searching for a rhyme.
The oak tree in the meadow is reaching for the sun.
An old man now ponders and thinks his race is run.
The blackbird on the fence is happy just to sing.
The goldfish in the bowl knows barely anything.
The youth who once was lost has somehow found his way.
An old man sits alone, with nothing left to say.
The jury can't decide what verdict it should reach.
The speaker is confused as he bumbles with his speech.
The king has lost his crown, and thinks of what he had.
An old man remembers when he was once a lad.
Copyright © Robert Haigh 2015
When I was older, I buried my friend.
When I was older, I had to pretend.
When I was older, I thought about the end.
When we were young, songs were sung!
When we were young, we ran from bees that stung!
When we were young, we played on swings and swung!
When I was older, I had to change.
When I was older, life became strange.
When I was older, love was unrequited.
When we were young, was when love was first invited.
Now I’m old, and wishing I were young. But you’re gone, my soul is sold, and my heart is now wrung.
Forty years and what do I have to show?
A whole lot of heartache,
Too many dreams I let go.
A lot of tears I've cried,
Feelings of worthlessness,
A lot of hope that's died.
Bad poetry written late at night,
Long after I should be asleep,
I'm kept awake by this eternal fight.
Feelings of pity and sorrow.
Wondering if I will ever be good enough,
Hoping for a happy tomorrow
Fourty years with nothing to show.
What next?
I just don't know.
I guess I should try to right all I've done wrong,
Throw my depression right out the door,
Before another 40 years is gone.
Cause when my time is up, only my memory will be left behind.
I don't want to be forgotten
The hands of time don't have a rewind
Fourty years, I've wasted now.
What do I have to give the world?
Bad poetry, a few broken dreams,
I must move on somehow.
Throw all my pity out the door
Live the dreams that still remain.
Smile and pray for Fourty more.
"This is it,
the last time.
Not my last time,
for there will be many more,
but before I go,
take a second.
Or two.
As though leaving a humble abode
for the last time.
Or realistically,
one to be proud of,
one no need for humility.
A tendency to be crass,
the one-stop coffeeshop
that was the first building
foot stepped in,
the exact final destination
of a journey
across from
one Ocean to the next.
First impressions,
wild differences between
vernacular and tone,
'shaka brah',
and an immediate inquiry
as to where the hell
I come from.
Brash,
but immediately warm
the very first contact
turned out to be,
only to observe
more than a year of stumbles,
pieces scribbled,
baristas in and out,
one to be a brother
calling this location
headquarters,
locomotives blaring by
in a flash of red
everyday.
Bicentennial
the count not of years,
but of poetic conveyance,
written in the soft glow
of this shop,
this shop the subject
times so often giving
detail to who,
what, where,
and how that one girl,
that one time,
smelt as she walked by.
Edited,
the time spent
since the Spring,
but some things never change,
and that's how at home
I feel in this booth.
Bottoms up,
here's to you,
one last brew,
one last time.
No more lines
to be written
here,
skate to the next place,
though it won't be the same."
With falsity and neglictory,
With lies and efiface,
With hope begone a truth,
Thy soul bounded multiude.
Begone a hopeless dreams.
Beyond a place unseen.
An abyss of solitude,
Ages of things begone.
Beyond a mighty shield,
A pile moves/grows,
Not Delay taint unclean,
Ever vigilant of change.
An act that lies,
Can only be ugly,
A move made already,
Cannot be taken back.
We see an illusion.
They show a mirage.
A move already made,
And they keep it so.
Rebel Rebel hopeless soul.
Fight, Fight lest unfilled,
Through thy Red blood,
Keep the fight alive.
Thy hand hold another,
lest be bad end.
A fight continue definite,
A fight won Indefinite.
A world unseen granted,
For those beyond grasp,
A rising sun uncovers,
For they deserve it.
And it all started,
With a single phrase,
"Let it be so."
Will it be though?
- Eventim
I don't believe I'm as old as I am
Inside im just a little kid wishing I was sixteen I wish It would of been a better sweet dream
Growing older each day is to me it seems
The saddest realization of this sinking ship
I wish I just could
Stop myself from
Getting any older.
Remeber when my dad
Would push me off
So I could ride
My bike.
Or when my mom
Would show me
How to read on those
Warm summer nights
And all the roads
We traveled down
To see the things
I dreamed about
Oh I wish just could
Stop myself from
Getting any older.
One day I could find a
Love and we could
Start it over
And maybe we could
See are selves
When we were that much young.
And I know just can't
Stop myself from
Getting any older
Reminiscing about the past,
How it tends to last,
The memories of our days,
Spent living them away.
Fire is dancing
Gems are shining
Stars are falling down
Something's coming out
Dark road against my path
Light is shining bright
Can't ignore these signs
Should show them what I got
Shooting to number one
Breaking bars, having fun
Sleeping on the cloud nine
Seeking words that would rhyme
This is the Golden Age
I'm on the Utmost Sky
This is the Peak of Time
I'm on the Perfect Chase
Taking break on heartbreaks
Flying high from lakes to seas
Writing lines from tears to bliss
Bleed hard and celebrate
Never saw this coming
It left my soul singing
I never knew I could reach
The skydreams I once wished