Poem
of the Month, December 2013
Yesterday,
When
I Was Young
Poemwriter:
Herbert Kretzmer
seems the
love I've known has always been
the most
destructive kind
guess, that's
why now I feel so old
before my
time
yesterday
when I was young
the taste of
life was sweet
as rain upon
my tongue
I teased at
life as if it
were a
foolish game
the way the
evening breeze
may tease a
candle flame
the thousand
dreams I dreamed
the splendid
things I planned
I'd always
built to last
on weak and
shifting sand
I lived by
night and shunned
the naked
light of day
and only now
I see
how the years
ran away
yesterday,
when I was young
so many happy
songs
were waiting
to be sung
so many wild
pleasures
lay in store
for me
and so much
pain my
dazzled eyes
refused to see
I ran so fast
that time
and youth at
last ran out
I never
stopped to think
what life was
all about
and every
conversation
I can now
recall
concerned
itself with me
and nothing
else at all
yesterday,
the moon was blue
and every
crazy day
brought
something new to do
I used my
magic age
as if it were
a wand
and never saw
the waste
and emptiness
beyond
the game of
love I played
with
arrogance and pride
and every
flame I lit
too quickly,
quickly died
the friends I
made all seemed
somehow to
drift away
and only I am
left on stage
to end the
play
there are so
many songs
in me that
won't be sung
I feel the
bitter taste of tears
upon my
tongue
the time has
come for me
to pay for
yesterday,
when I was young
Fifty
Years Ago
(c)2014
Bob Atkinson
heard
a song played on ceiling speakers
while
dining at that special place
lyrics
fervent in their meaning
about
how adults could at him rage
didn't
know his mind of reason
understood
his feelings not
couldn't
hold a candle to him
in
depth of inner thought
papa
kept him from his passion
Mary
that sweetness imbued
with
all his inner strength
to
work hard for a car to use
let
him wander aimlessly
down
school halls so late to class
picking
up where he left off
homework's
not finished in his bag
many
yells and screams at him
by
folks not in the know
about
the latest dance step
or
what's good to wear of clothes
driven,
his mind by hormones
dripping
sweat down from his brow
while
playing full court basketball
in
front of the hometown crowd
left
him prideful and aware
of
his importance there that night
how
could they see him as the one
who
never turns out the lights
or
cleans his room with passion
or
finishing a plate of food
while
contemplating sadness
one
of his many moods
this
kid who loved to nothing do
now
laments these same hard trials
as
the song was written years ago
about
his teenage child
