Bluebell Wood

Within this treeless space once stood

A knot of trees, quite beautiful to see.

In childhood here I played, in Bluebell Wood,

Little thinking that in time it could

Be torn away from me.

They cut down every single tree

And levelled what was once my secret den.

Bluebell Wood destroyed then by decree.

A highway runs through where it used to be.

My mind drifts back to when...

Wild bluebells carpeted the ground,

And friendly trees seemed happy to by climbed.

No better recreation could be found

Than playing in that wood with joyful sound,

As childhood reason rhymed.

Bluebell Wood, gone for good — or bad.

Progress rides roughshod over childhood dreams,

Caring little for what we have — or had.

"The future waits for no-one here, my lad!"

The past just dies, it seems.

Copyright © Robert Haigh 2015

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Photograph by Douglas Haigh. This scene — on the edge of Blubell Wood — no longer exists. The whole area was cleared for the building of a new section of motorway.

I Could Be Wrong — But I'm Not!

When I was a lad, summers were longer.

Families were closer, and somehow stronger.

There were surely more birds and butterflies

That flitted and fluttered and filled the skies.

   I could be wrong — but I'm not!

Roads were much quieter — less traffic you'd see.

The grass was greener, and advice was free!

We played in the street, enjoying our games;

Neighbours were friendly — we knew all their names.

   I could be wrong — but I'm not!

We hadn't much money, but life was grand!

We walked to the shop with coppers in hand.

Big jars of sweets were there on display,

And we'd choose from different jars each day.

   I could be wrong — but I'm not!

Life was much simpler and worries were few.

Dad stoked the fire and mother made stew.

We'd all play Monopoly after our tea;

Back then not many folks owned a TV.

   I could be wrong — but I'm not!

Nowadays kids have oodles of stuff,

And still they want more. It's never enough!

When I was a lad I had what I'd got;

Not very much, and that was my lot!

   I could be wrong — but I'm not!


Copyright © Robert Haigh 2020

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These Paths and Lanes


These paths and lanes I've walked along

So many times before.

They've barely changed throughout the years;

Still steeped in days of yore.

Old memories cry out to me,

With tales of family lore.

The cottage where my parents lived

Lies empty, looking sad.

I smile as I recall once more

The happy times we had.

But that was oh so long ago,

When I was just a lad.

St Martin's church, with steeple tall,

Stands proudly on the hill.

My uncle Joe once rang those bells,

And they are ringing still.

Old Joe's long gone  he's buried there,

Along with auntie Jill.

The farmland, stretching out for miles,

Has hardly changed at all.

The cattle grazing in the fields

Are just as I recall.

Same trees  the ones I used to climb 

Still stand there, by the wall.

I turn, then walk back to my car

Parked down beside the green.

I think about the friends I had,

Now gone, or never seen.

A one-hour drive and I'll be home.

She'll ask, "Where have you been?"

Copyright © Robert Haigh 2017


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I was enjoying a quiet moment in the bookstore when bursting through the door

followed by her mom and dad…came a little girl…I imagine around four.


She was wearing sunglasses…her hair was full of curls

and the minute she entered the store she waved, she smiled…and she twirled…


She ran right over to an orange book and held it over her head,

“Mommy, orange is my favorite color…let’s bought this book” she said.


“That book is orange but it’s not for children.” Her mom said.  

The little girl did not get mad

Instead she smiled and ran to the back of the store saying “I think I’ll go ask Dad.”


Dad agreed with Mom.and the little girl told me, “We’re not going to bought it.”

as she gently returned it back to the very shelf from which she got it.


Next she saw a Pokey Little Puppy shirt and she did what young children do

She said, “Mommy can we bought this…it’s my favorite color…blue.”


Again her mom refused and I must admit this is the best time, in a while, I’ have had

watching her run with the shirt to the back of the store saying, “I think I’ll go ask Dad.”


As she returned the blue shirt to the rack she found another and quickly changed her tune,

when she held it up and asked me, “What color?” I answered, “That one’s maroon.”


She smiled and said, “That’s my favorite color….Her third since she came in I might add

and clutching that maroon shirt to her chest she quickly ran to Mom and Dad.


As I witnessed the way her favorite colors changed I couldn’t help but feel glad

at the innocence of one so young…but also at the patience of her Mom and Dad.


They spoke to her respectfully, they didn’t get annoyed or mad…

I believe you can learn a lot about the child by watching Mom and Dad.


And as this little adventure unfolded before my eyes it was plain for me to see

just by watching her mom and dad…the kind of person she’ll grow up to be.


As they were leaving, with a book in hand, she stopped, she waved and she twirled…

and I found myself smiling as I waved goodbye…to one of my favorite little girls.

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Budding child

Budding child
Cried for joy
laboured books
Arrested for hours
Exploring the nature
Strong desire of hour
Realising all stress
Father took out for ride
Joyfull looks
tried capturing all around
All at once a gentle blow
Hammered by mom
How did u do!
I did well mom
Double hammed mom
Was it just well or best
I did very best mom
Oh! god you are so kind
My son! did best in test
Shuttered all joy
Hammer upon hammer
Or father drove home quick
All at once
Remembered how i were
In screwed childhood.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A child reaction to mother for being over concerned .

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Golden hour

Golden hour

              Madhanala Shaila Prasad

Golden hour reminded by gone days,

Tit- bits of being together

Still fresh as love at first sight

Courtship days filled with hope and sorrow

Travelled all the way as Adam and Eve

Till heavenly one bestow an angle

Day in and day out no other to do

Each day fell too short to

Narrate how she grew

Cloths that she put on

Alerted mere childhood

A quality time to hangaround

Material world would allow me

Conquer the world around

But, not at the cost of

Flitting childhood days of angle.





Author's Notes/Comments: 

All about how sepending time with baby...

cursing time for being transient....

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Sally came running in the door…”Grandma I have a secret!” She yelled.

It’s a really, really good secret…but I promised not to tell.”


“I want to keep my promise but you don’t know how hard it’s been.”

“Trying not to tell anyone…trying to keep this secret in.”


Sally looked up at her Grandma…her wide eyes, big and blue…

“Grandma can you help me?  Grandma tell me what to do?”


Grandma took Sally out to her back yard saying…“There’s something I want you to see.

They sat down under a very large oak… “This is my secret tree.”


“Grandma…” Sally laughed …”This is not a secret tree!

Everybody knows about it…everyone can see…”


Grandma put a finger to her lips…and gently shook her head

“The tree is not the secret, silly…it’s what it holds.” she said.


Ever since I was a little girl…and a secret was given to me

I’d hurry home and sit right here…underneath this very tree.”


“And when I was sure I was alone…that secret I’d retrieve

then I would let that secret out and share it with the leaves.


And so this tree is filled with secrets…every secret I ever brought

secrets she will never tell…and some I’m sure I’ve long forgot….


With that Grandma stood up and walked away…happy as can be

leaving Sally all alone in the shade of her secret tree.


On her way to the house Grandma turned around and smiled…

She couldn’t be sure but she believes

Sally was whispering to the tree


sharing her secret with the leaves.


October's raring to get us high on sugar
with temperature falling


In an elevating freight elevator
I overheard a conversation between two adults


behind their ragged full grown beard
which could hide their faces


but failed to hide their
childish love for colorful things


They were discussing if
skittles were even considered candies.

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Baseball Everywhere

Elvin and Leroy were baseball players
From the time they were six years old
And best friends since the early days
A million baseball stories to be told

Their entire lives had been consumed
By the game of baseball which they
Played together all through school
Then pro-Negro league as Blue Jays

Even in retirement baseball was key
Games at the ball park and on the t.v.
Indeed – it was a sad day when Elvin
Passed away from a cardio infraction

Poor Leroy was hurt and felt so alone
He had always had Elvin by his side
And now without – was totally thrown
Unable to handle that Elvin had died

Leroy missed Elvin so much that he
Kept talking to him – always his plea
“Please let me know how you’re doing
So I can quit all my silly brooding”

But nothing – no answer from Elvin
Until late one night – in the kitchen
Leroy was talking - asking his friend
For a message – some sign to be sent

Leroy was sitting at the table and
Heard Elvin so asked – “that you man”
Without hesitation the voice of Elvin
Clear as day – “It’s me – good friend”

Leroy was both shocked and ecstatic
He started talking and then did ask
About baseball in heaven – and Elvin
Said – “Leroy – it really is heaven”

“They got baseball everywhere and
You should see the fields and parks
Just like we used to dream and plan
And got beautiful lights after dark”

“That is wonderful news” – said Leroy
“Wonderful – is there any bad news”
Elvin began tentatively – “well old boy
There is some bad news I brought you”

“What bad news - Elvin ” – Leroy asked
“Tell me – whatever - be what it might “
So Leroy started slow then said it fast
“Elvin - you’re pitchin’ tomorrow night”