The Laughing Stars
He lives deep inside himself with burnt out emotions,
He can stll hear his piercing scream's,
When he had a bad fall from a horse in a race,
That ended all his dream's,
His chance gone at becoming top jockey,
He clung desperately onto his fading career,
But the ugly truth has taken hold,
He is stalked by fear.
His bitterness wrenches his heart,
He lives in a small two roomed flat,
Simpe and plain,
He's headman now at a small riding stables,
He ties himself down with an invisible chain,
As his heart bleed's because he has fled,
From the spotlight with the side effects,
Of the steel plate inside his head.
He makes his life comfortable,
He has a fiery temper but he's a hard worker,
Every evening he sit's in the same spot in the local pub,
Talking to the same people,
Drinking his usual pint of Guinness,
Everything the same, until he drives the short journey home,
The mountains looming,
Like giant creatures lurking.
His dream's always come back to knock him out cold,
With his feeling's of been a loner and a loser,
His heart locked and the key lost on the racecourse,
His brown eyes turn black with rage,
Now he exists on a poor wage,
He survives with his good sense of humour,
And his weapon of sarcasm,
Filling the empty chasm.
He now stand's staring at the darkened stable yard,
Fleetingly for a second he believe's he has done well,
Then he glances at the galaxy of stars,
Looking and laughing down at him from afar,
With their aloofness and untouchable presence,
He remembers the scenes in the winners enclosure,
With the crowd cheers,
All he's left with is his deep fears.
His eyes have lost their light,
Without his souls inner sight,
He steps quickly inside his front door,
Away from his glory day's,
Away from the brilliant stars of the night,
At losing his lonely fight.
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Comments about this poem (The Laughing Stars by Hazel Durham )
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