Elizabeth Haasch Poems
Comments about Elizabeth Haasch
I’m sick of the madness.
The hoping for more than you’ll ever have.
The antique hearts rusting away
like a carousel that’s never be ridden.
I’m sick of waiting for the pin to fall,
the umpire to tell me I’ve struck out once again.
I’m sick. You tell me that.
What is so bad in your life
that you can’t ride on down, pedal to the medal.
Stick a cork in it.
Living life like this is no more than wasted space,
a tumor growing with no medicine to cure
such a disease to the heart.
This love is nothing more than a meaningless tragedy. ...
Why I sit here in the dark.
Why I do the things I do.
Why is a question that keeps running through my head.
The tears flowing free like a stream of welled up thoughts of us.
The stars have never seemed so far away.
I’m looking for a way to realize now.
I don’t even recognize this girl I look at.