memory

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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Cycle of Forgetting

Folder: 
2020

My brain whirs when the sun goes off

and isn’t it funny

that I have always been nocturnal even when I am asleep

the loner the

lover the

one to grow at night alone

the one to build arches that stretch

toward the hibernating sun

and build nests scattered with moonlight

you will never fit into

 

Isn’t it funny

the only time I think of you is in bed

when that’s the last place you wanted to be

 

The stars think I am attuned to you

and the way time is shoved down my throat here

 

When I think about it I can swallow it,

a spoonful of earthquake shivering down my spine

until it becomes a part of me

 

I walk through the almost-fire,

the heat that chases me until I look right at it

 

and under these swollen memories I step

and I forget you.

somehow

I forget.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 9/15/20

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tags:

Georgia

 

Georgia stole the drugs in the glovebox

and traded them for passage. I don't
remember Texas. I barely remember
you.



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The Cupcake is a Lie

 

 

There was a café at the end of the road

where the patio trickled onto the sidewalk

and umbrellas opened like snowdrop petals

allowing only splatters of sunlight to decorate the plates

placed in front of posied forks and clinking glasses.

At noon we sat with people sipping rosé

and nibbling the edges of pastries:

you with your cupcake, I with my

tart. Your mouth full of mischief, you spoke

with your hands to clear my head and

there was something like sweetness

on your fingers. Words sifted between your eyes and 

a token of my innocence saw the sun

when icing stuck to your bottom lip. 

I barely noticed the tremor in your fingers

when you raised your glass to toast the afternoon or

the acidic taste of the powder I wiped off your nose with my thumb.

 

 

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We Slid Like Molasses

 

 

Tell them we died

in late evening while the band still lingered

over their cocktails
and rhythms slid like molasses
over moon-tanned shoulders and under stilettos.

Lilacs wafted from her hair as she tapped a heel.
I imagined what my mother would say
and I suppose we gathered glances
like some do sea shells
and held them just as tightly.

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Lo que no se cuenta

Folder: 
Life

 

Un aplauso a
Todo eso que vive
Entre, tu mente y tu boca, y 
Que nunca llega a salir
Esos momentos tuyos
Que tuyos se han de quedar
Hasta dejar de existir


Eso que habita la mente en forma de recuerdo,
De furtivos momentos escondidos en la normalidad
Detrás de un "nada" hay toda una vida en un instante
Un instante de vida oculta y presa
Entre tu memoria y tu boca

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

There will be a full translation of this poem, just be patient plis :) ly

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Treading Water

Folder: 
2019

Sometimes I go back to that place.

The one I

love

love

hate.

 

Where I stood

in the sand

in the moss

in the grass

scattered with candy wrappers.

 

Where she left me

in the dark

and left herself again.

 

Where I was made

and everything broke.

 

Sometimes I go back to when

they would splash so I could hear them,

barely above water,

from where I stood in that lake

my feet on the ground.

 

I don’t want to leave the ground.

 

I should have left the ground that night.

 

The night I could not

love her and

keep her safe.

 

But in my head I’m still under four feet tall

and the water closes over my head

the diving board is

miles away.

I can’t tell how much I’m willing to give.

 

Drowning doesn’t seem real

until you want me to make it out there

and I am gasping as my mouth fills with

possible endings instead of air.

 

I run too fast when things get real,

treading water in time.

I swam out to the dock

for you.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 7/17/19

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tags:

Safe Inside The Locket

That face is never getting old with time.
It still bring me close and you not afar
From time present. Small morning here dreams alone
And love-gate open, for memory to come home.
All things that make you who you are
Gifts and robs the soul at once:
Those blessings giving, and curses retaining
As they were with you,
They are with me here now.
Even death dust cannot touch the evergreen
Of grandchildren their days not yet seen.

Mists of Time

Folder: 
Light and Dark

“I had a child just like you”

She said to me that day

Waiting in the hospital

On my knees to pray

She didn't know who I was

Her mind just couldn't see

That I knew who she talked about

The child was truly me.

 

We'd had this converse once before

And many before that

The degradation of her mind

Was obvious, as she sat

And prattled on about her son

How happy he will be

With her family when she comes home

And I had to agree

 

She never found her memories

Or recognized my face

After everything she went through

She's in a better place

Where memories last forever

And can't be lost to time

Where human bodies don't break down

Always in their prime

 

Many years have come and gone

I can't recall them all

It's not like I haven't tried

But the thoughts just have a pall

I try to stare back to the past

Peer directly through the grime

Just like a fog covered my eyes

It's hard to see through mists of time

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