Friday, May 24, 2013

Something died

In the market yesterday I saw her
Looking at bread, reading ingredients
As she always used to do when with me;
And I just watched and said nothing at all.

And something died...

I just sort of trailed her around the store
Keeping my distance, afraid to approach
Because I never wanted to leave her.
I just packed up one day and I was gone

And something died...

When she came home from work that winter's eve
It was to an empty, cold, lonely house
Knowing her as I did, I'm sure she cried.
But I had to go cause I was poison.

And something died...

Don't think I left cause it was best for her,
Though I'm sure she's better off without me,
I was feeling boxed in and overwhelmed
And I needed to breathe free without her

And something died...

The sense of relief was immediate
Upon getting in my car and leaving
And for the next few weeks I was happy
Til I realized she was gone forever

And something died...

I won't go back to that market again
Because I might once more encounter her
And the next time I might approach her;
But I burned that bridge a long time ago

Something is dead.

Monday, March 25, 2013


It began one day with a simple premise -
that what we were doing was right.
And men and women, and boys and girls,
good and bad,

And the dying continued
and continues today;
and the cause in which we believed,
whether right or wrong,
lost its meaning.

But we didn’t start the killing,
and if we stop, the killing will go on,
and continue until everyone,
good and bad,

It is regrettable, and sad,
But dying is what we do best
and war seems to be
the ultimate answer
to mankind’s quest.

© 2013 Bobby Barnhart


Do you believe in dragons,
and elves and fairies and such?
Well I’ll tell you true,
between me and you,
I do.

Do you believe in Santa Claus,
and the Easter bunny too?
Well if you do not,
And magic’s forgot,
I feel sorry for you.

Do you believe in the future,
and that peace is possible for all?
Well if you don’t,
Or if you won’t
There’s little hope for you.

© 2013 Bobby Barnhart

The Game

When you come to the end of the road
and you don’t know which way to turn -
left or right?
It really doesn’t matter
because it is just a game in the end.

A game that has no winners
 a game that has no losers
a game that just goes on
a game seemingly with no end

Though one day your road may end
and leave no way to turn -
and no way to go back -
and you know that for you
the journey is over;

Yet you know the road will go on
because time struggles on without you
though you are not there to see.
And the journey will continue
until the game itself shall end.

© 2013 Bobby Barnhart