The time hangs heavy on my hands as I think back on bygone days, When in fair childhood's far-off lands I played beneath Sol's golden rays. I thought myself immortal then and never spared a thought for death, For I was just a lad of ten, but now I'm old and short of breath.
With little time in front of me my gaze turns backwards to the past, And days of glory do I see of happy times I thought would last. But Time, the one who mocks us all, will have her way as years pass by, We are but captives in Time's thrall and 'tis appointed that we die.
But in my mind I'm young once more, surrounded by my childhood friends, And things are as they were before in mystic time that never ends. There's Tom and Jim and Joe and Bill, restored to youth once more in dreams, We play again upon that hill which rang with laughs and joyous screams.
They all grew up and went their way; they met and married loving wives, They gave their all in work and play, they led such rich, fulfilling lives. There was so much I meant to do, but never seemed to find the time, And now I sit here whilst I rue that I'm no longer in my prime.
But then as if freed from a trance my reverie comes to a close. In looking-glass I catch a glance and wonder if that old man knows When he was young he had it all, the whole wide-world lay at his feet; He should have conquered and stood tall - but now I stoop low in defeat.
My friends are gone, dead many years, and I am left to face my fate, I try to hold back stinging tears and know I've left things far too late. I should have made more of my life and not just let it slip away, And raw regret cuts like a knife for things unsaid I meant to say.
Regret for things I meant to do, but sadly, madly, left undone. The woman that I meant to woo, who might have borne to me a son. I sat and watched life pass me by as I was left upon the shelf, And then it was too late to try and I blame no one but myself.
So one truth now I realize, that life is like a bitter pill, And as I dab tears fom my eyes I dream once more of that green hill, Remembering with poignant joy the happy lad I was at ten - And wish I was a little boy, if only for one day again.
2010-08-02T04:01:05Z
No TDs from me.
Anonymous2010-08-02T08:37:19Z
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Amazing man ! I loved your mask of janus and thought that was your best until I read this one, this surpasses it.
I like poems with a message like the poem "two roads diverged in the wood" they are not only poetic but they also have something to teach, this "Halcyon Days" has the same effect on me.
I loved the way you have described your childhood, the fact that you are old and want to revisit it, I think that desire is shared by many of us. and I liked the truth in these words "Regret for things I meant to do, but sadly, madly, left undone. The woman that I meant to woo, who might have borne to me a son.
I am in a love with a girl , whom I want to end up with, I hope I have the courage to get her, for like the character in your poem I don't wanna end up with regret.
the thing which I like about your poems is that you tend to bring out the ugly, depressing, sad but very real side of human nature, things, the side which we don't want to talk about but which cannot be avoided.
In mask of janus you talked about backstabbers, about not trusting people, friends and people who betray you and I could immediately connect to it, because I have been through such experiences. here also the thought of being alone when I am old and regretting the past and crying over it scares me and I could relate to thought of being a child again.
you have captured the joy of childhood and agony of dying alone very well.
The Death, Commemoration and Memory (DCM) Research Group is based within the School of Arts, Culture and Environment at the University of Edinburgh. Founded in 2008, DCM provides a forum for postgraduates and staff whose research engages with any aspect of the Group's remit, attracting junior and senior scholars from a variety of academic disciplines. Building upon the Group's success, a two-day conference is planned in Edinburgh for June 2010 to provide a platform for further interdisciplinary discussion and to create new networks between researchers with similar interests throughout the academic community.
Topics for discussion may include, but are not limited to:
• Acts of commemoration, mourning practices and rituals • The social aspects of individual memory, collective memories and cultural attitudes towards memory • The ethics and etiquette of death studies: the treatment of human remains in archaeology, pathology and museum practice • Death in the visual arts: commemoration through architectural and artistic practices • Poetic, literary and musical interpretations of death • The dichotomy between history and memory • Psychological and sociological studies of bereavement
Humbled and in awe of what great poetry can do, I have vowed unto myself to learn to write more like you. The dignity of verse, I have compromised at best; the problems in my life put my skill with words to test.
I was the single wild card in my grade schools' gifted class, an anomaly by means of long absences, allowed to pass the third grade simply because someone made a mistake, and did not realize I was only there for two days before summer break.
Do you wonder why I tell you this? Please give me just a bit of compassion, of sound advisory, I see your candle has been lit I may have been, in your regards, just another would-be-writer- but through things due, in part, to you, I am a better fighter.
I read this poem some time ago and it brought a tear then, too. I apologize for not showing deserved respect to you. Our soulful brother sang praises to your verse, way back when. I am quite profoundly moved to see that you might be his friend again.
If I were not so brazen as to skulk around the archived posts, I would not know how much this poem has haunted some, like ghosts.
Yes, this is a good moment for us all. I realize that we are all maturing, but the little boy or girl inside will always play part in matters of the heart. At those magical, mystical moments when empathy comes to me like a tsunami, I see the ripples in the waters that may seem a world away; you are positively tidal tonight.
With best of wishes, paradigm shifts, heartfelt interest, and due respect... LC.
After hurriedly digesting the content of the other responses, I gather you're a wicked person who is undeserving of others attention. As a result, although calculated and donned in the finest of clothing, this piece rings hollow and insincere.