Phil Soar Poems

I left before the opera was complete
I'd sat for hours upon a broken seat
Listening to a woman howl and shriek
Thinking that her brain had sprung a leak
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Take a road that leads to somewhere magical
Even though the trip might be illogical
Raise you will, and make a move to places new
Come back home and write about your daily view
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I’m sixty three, my mind tells me I’m ten
Except for all the pain, now and again
My aches and pains will be the death of me
I feel like ten, but I am sixty three
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There was a mix up at the supermarket
About my car, and where I should have parked it
I drove into a parent and child place
And someone tried to get into my face
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I lay there, looking up
Wondering how far away you might be
A trillion light years, maybe more?
Yet twinkling in the sky forever more
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My mind works in mysterious ways and drifts off quite at random
It’s like a ride on a bicycle that ought to be a tandem
Except that I am on my own with no help on the pedals
Trying hard to win a race that doesn’t hand out medals
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