Tag Archives: emotions

If I Write a Sad Poem Today

If I write a sad
Poem today
People will say
He is sad.

If I compose a glad
Poem today
They will, likewise
He is feeling glad.
But they
Can not see my eyes.

I caught An Elusive Thing

I caught an elusive thing.
‘Twas happiness on the wing.
Honeyed words were said
And we ended in bed.

I caught an elusive thing.
‘Twas happiness on the wing.
The birds sang on a summer’s day
And I implored my mistress to stay.

The birds still
And will
Sad thoughts to mind
For I find
That within their song
Resides the truth “this won’t last long”.

Perhaps It Is My Curse

Perhaps it is my curse
But on looking into a humorous verse
Often hidden in it’s depths I see
A deep sadness staring at me.

I think of a poet named Jayne
Who, while drunk on champagne
Wrote a humorous rhyme
To pass the time.
Then for fun, blew out her brain.

(The Jayne in the above is purely ficticious).


A girl crying
On a train.
Me trying
To restrain
The human inclination to say
“Are you okay?”
But what right have I
To intrude on a girl who does cry?

My dog noses
I swear
His compassion exposes
The British reserve
In me.
As I swerve
Aside, and let her be.

The Old Familiar Faces By Charles Lamb

It is sometimes remarked by those who do not care for poetry that it is difficult to understand. However this certainly can not be said of the below poem, “The Old Familiar Faces” by the poet, Charles Lamb.



The Old Familiar Faces By Chaarles Lamb



I have had playmates, I have had companions,

In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days,

All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

I have been laughing, I have been carousing,

Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies,

All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

I loved a love once, fairest among women;

Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her —

All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man;

Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly;

Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.

Ghost-like, I paced round the haunts of my childhood.

Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse,

Seeking to find the old familiar faces.

Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,

Why wert not thou born in my father’s dwelling?

So might we talk of the old familiar faces —

How some they have died, and some they have left me,

And some are taken from me; all are departed;

All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.