Lonely
There was an old man
sat on a park bench,
his trousers were baggy,
his hair was unkempt.
It flowed long and white
right down to his shoes
and children would pass by
looking bemused.
A glint in his eye
and a glow on his cheek
he sat all day long
not a word did he speak,
but should you have asked him
why he was there
he'd had given you reasons, I'm sure
with a stare.
He sat on the park bench
eating some berries,
he didn't look sad
and he didn't look merry,
then just when the church clock
struck quarter to four
the old man got up
and he fell to the floor
Nobody noticed him tumble
nobody even passed by
and as sunshine hid behind a cloud
that lonely old man, he did die.
But sometimes as I pass that bench
I have a strange feeling inside
that someone is eating a berry or two
and watching the people go by
poem by Ruth Walters
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Related quotes
The Old Man
The old man sat on a park bench
just watching the people pass by.
He did it day after day
alone in everyone's eyes.
He would smile occasionally
but no one ever knew why.
Everyone who saw him
wondered why he sat so still
and just looked out
at everyone who passed him there.
The old man sat in repose
from dawn until dusk fell.
He sat there in the summer sun
and as winter's bleakness fell.
He looked for some face
he might remember from his past
so they could reminisce for a while.
Sadly, the years slipped away.
Everyone spoke about him,
but no one ventured to talk.
Then one day the old man
wasn't on the park bench
and he was nowhere to be seen.
Now a different question was asked.
Day after day, the bench was empty.
Where had the old man gone?
Had he simply passed away?
The questions remained unanswered
because no one ever stopped
to enquire of his name.
I would like to think
that in the dying hours
on the park bench one day
that he had found
what he was waiting for
and then happily he faded away.
12 July 2012
poem by David Harris
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Memories On A Park Bench
He sat on a park bench
just to pass the time away
when he saw her there
from the corner of his eye.
She was older now,
but her beauty had not faded.
She turned in his direction
and he smiled at her.
At first, she looked at him strangely
until there was recognition.
She smiled back
and then joined him.
They sat there on the park bench
the sun smiling down on them
as the daffodils swayed in the breeze.
For both of them came a flood
of memories of when they were young
before the world spirited them away.
Both had walked down many roads,
had some hard knocks along the way.
Both recalled them now
the way old friends meeting do.
As they sat there
recalling memories from happier days.
All too soon they would be parting
and as they would go,
they would take with them
a little of each other
in the form of memories
that they acquired on a park bench.
5 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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A Place To Sit
Smoochers and snoggers, and resting joggers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Ramblers and walkers, and street hawkers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Mini’s and Roller’s, and lady strollers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Old folk and young folk, and dogs with no folk
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Market traders and cavers, and money savers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Children that play who meet everyday
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Students and teachers, and lay preachers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Loose women and boys the ‘for sale’ toys
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Addicts and dealers, and police squealers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Dogs out for a pee who can’t find a tree
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Drunks in the night who like to fight
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Spray painters and doodlers, and bench abusers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Vandals and hooligans, and booted ruffians
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Demolishers and breakers, and obliterators
never stopped until they destroyed this concrete bench.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Park Bench
Sitting on a park bench,
the fragrance of the grass
scents the fresh air.
It makes you look more closely
to everything that is there.
The beauty of the day,
white clouds, no black ones of dismay.
A breeze that bends
every leaf and petal to and fro.
Then there are the colours,
a multitude of green.
Everything assaults our senses,
every smell and flower there.
The sun is over my shoulder,
blue skies, and no clouds in sight.
As I sit here on a park bench
enjoying everything, I see.
(7 July 2007)
poem by David Harris
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Old Friends
==============================
Simon & Garfunkel - Old Friends
==============================
(2:35)
P. Simon, 1968
Old friends
Old friends
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
Of the high shoes
Of the old friends
Old friends
Winter companions
The old men
Lost in their overcoats
Waiting for the sunset
The sounds of the city
Sifting through the trees
Settle like dust
On the shoulders
Of the old friends
Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy
Old friends
Memory brushes the same years
Silently sharing the same fear...
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hollow
I sit alone at the edge
of a bench, watching the children
as they laugh
and play.
And they run past me
as I smile back and laugh
with their small voices
and wet hair in their eyes.
And they call me their friend,
as they see me often.
I often sit alone on that bench.
In the dust at the corner
of the sunlit park.
With a sagging tree
just over my head,
dappling my clothes
and shading my eyes
from the sun.
Until I stayed the night.
The sun was shooed
out of the sky
and the moon took
her shift.
The shadows grew longer
and the children left,
calling in the faeries.
They wanted me to dance.
I smiled and stood
in the center
of the pure Beauty.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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In This Life
Sitting on a park bench
Thinking about a friend of mine
He was only 23
Gone before he had his time
It came without a warning
Didn't want his friends to see him cry
He knew the day was dawning
And I didn't have a chance to say goodbye
Chorus:
In this life I loved you most of all
What for?
'Cause now you're gone and I have to ask myself
What for?
What for?
Driving down the boulevard
Thinking about a man I knew
He was like a father to me
Nothing in the world that he wouldn't do
Taught me to respect myself
Said that we're all made of flesh and blood
Why should he be treated differently
Shouldn't matter who you choose to love
(chorus)
Intermediate:
People pass by and I wonder who's next
Who determines
song performed by by Madonna from Erotica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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replaying mozart's serenade #3 in G
middle age sits on a bench
at the park
just watching people pass by-
a fat lady with a pink purse as small as as a snail
a thin man looking like he's dying of tuberculosis
a little boy being held tight by his mom smiling at me
two lovers as sweet as sugar and walking too close like a glued pair of slippers
middle age sits alone and laughs loud like he's winning
this lonely game of optical illusion
this trajectory projection
middle age inside this cell of himself
looking for an opening
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Clown With A Frown********6/19/69
6/19/69
While sitting in the park one day
A man happened to pass my way.
He was dressed up like a clown
With a large and pitiful frown.
As he stopped and turned towards me
I asked myself “ what can it be”
That he continues to stare at me.
He gave a little sigh and sat down by my side
And as he turned towards me
I knew it was something dreadfully.
He said that he lost everything in his life
His home, his children, and his wife.
He lost everything while in his prime
And he thought everything was going just fine.
He had met this woman where he worked
Where she considered all men jerks.
It seemed that she had taken to me.
But that was part of her plan
To get everything she can.
She started going with me to lunch
I never suspected or had a hunch
That it was all part of an elaborate plan
To prove that all men were dumb
That she could use any man just for fun.
So in I fell like a spider in a web
She got me where she wanted me
In a bed.
She had pictures taken while making love
She passed it around the office for
Every one to see, just how she had gotten me.
She sent copies to my boss and wife
While knowing it would be the end for me.
she didn’t care about losing her job too.
She was always in solitude.
So this was the story as it was told to me
And why he would always wear a frown
And by a woman never be put down.
As he got up and left me on the bench
He turned and smiled and said these words.
When you feel life is letting you down
And you’re in despair, - remember me
And what I went through
And soon you’ll climb out of that solitude.
poem by Louis Rams
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Clown With A Frown**********6/19/69
6/19/69
While sitting in the park one day
A man happened to pass my way.
He was dressed up like a clown
With a large and pitiful frown.
As he stopped and turned towards me
I asked myself “ what can it be”
That he continues to stare at me.
He gave a little sigh and sat down by my side
And as he turned towards me
I knew it was something dreadfully.
He said that he lost everything in his life
His home, his children, and his wife.
He lost everything while in his prime
And he thought everything was going just fine.
He had met this woman where he worked
Where she considered all men jerks.
It seemed that she had taken to me.
But that was part of her plan
To get everything she can.
She started going with me to lunch
I never suspected or had a hunch
That it was all part of an elaborate plan
To prove that all men were dumb
That she could use any man just for fun.
So in I fell like a spider in a web
She got me where she wanted me
In a bed.
She had pictures taken while making love
She passed it around the office for
Every one to see, just how she had gotten me.
She sent copies to my boss and wife
While knowing it would be the end for me.
she didn’t care about losing her job too.
She was always in solitude.
So this was the story as it was told to me
And why he would always wear a frown
And by a woman never be put down.
As he got up and left me on the bench
He turned and smiled and said these words.
When you feel life is letting you down
And you’re in despair, - remember me
And what I went through
And soon you’ll climb out of that solitude.
poem by Louis Rams
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Haikou - Texas Style
Nice night in June
Stars shine – big moon
In park – on bench
With you – in clench
You say – you love
I coo – like dove
I’m smart – You’re fast
Never let chance pass
Can’t get hitched
So ‘they’ say
No problem here
Anyway
Same night in June
Same stars – same moon
Same park – different bench
He and she in clench
He say – he love
She also coo like dove
She smart – he too fast
Maybe should
Let this chance pass
Speedy say, “get hitched”?
She say, “oh yes, okay”
Wedding bells – ring, ring
Honeymoon and everything
Settle down – married life
Happy man – happy wife
Another night in June
Stars shine – big moon
Nobody ‘happy’ anymore
Carry baby – walk the floor
Wife mad – she fuss
Husband mad – he cuss
Life is now one big spat
Nagging wife – bawling brat
Man realize at last
Maybe he just too damn fast.
Bench
Sitting on a bench watching people go by.
Smiles and frowns, Stares and glares
Wondering what they are thinking?
Is it me greeting them one by one
Or me sitting on a bench.
The seat of comfort and distractions
a place to think and read
Feed the birds, Friendly chats
Surprising hellos, A lot of old fellows
wanting the seat, for they are beat!
Everyone's favorite seat
The bench of life
poem by Michael Peterson
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Ol' gents on a bench(in the park after dark)
Ol’ gents on a bench (in the dark in the park)
Two grizzled ol’ gents
On a bench in the park
Talking sagely of baseball
In the late evening dark
“ya think there’s baseball in heaven? ”
Mused Shecky to Levi
Levi furrowed his brow deeply
As he sighed soft reply
With an old man’s wet wheeze
He sonorously said
tis fairly certain we’ll know
Shortly after we’re dead
Let’s make a deal, they solemnly proposed
Whoever goes first will return to reveal
If there’s bleachers to seat and hot dogs to eat
And heavenly bases to steal.
As fate would have it, Shecky passed on that very night
And the next night Levi on their bench sadly sat alone
When out of the night, giving Levi such a fright
Levi heard Shecky’s ghostly voice intone
“Levi, oh Levi! I have good news and bad
Levi, there’s baseball in heaven” Shecky said with delight
And the bad news my ol’ friend I hate to relate
is…you’re the starting pitcher tomorrow night.
poem by David Whalen
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And You Don’t Remember Me
I sat on the park bench
pen and notebook in hand.
I watched all the people
as they passed on by.
I wondered how in life
each one of them had fared
with their happiness
and their sorrows.
I looked for inspiration
for something to write.
She looked at me and smiled,
I smiled back
thinking that was that.
“You don’t remember me? ”
She said and sat down.
I looked at her again
as memories swirled
around in my mind.
She was right
I didn’t remember her
Her hair was mousey colour
with flecks of grey
starting to appear here and there.
There were thick lines
across her forehead,
crow feet lines
near the corners of her eyes.
The corners of her mouth
drooped just slightly.
Her blues eyes were striking
and I knew I had seen them before,
but they were with a younger face
a long time ago.
A face that lit up
whenever she spoke.
“You still don’t remember me? ”
She asked once again.
I shook my head,
but unfortunately, I did.
I could remember
all the beauty
she had had in her youth,
before time had ravaged her
and taken away her beauty
and her youth.
She looked so sad.
I wanted to reach out
like I always wanted to,
but something deep inside,
a little voice you could call it,
kept telling me no.
My urge to hold her
was trying to win out,
but I couldn’t do it.
She was no longer
a part of my life.
All she was now
was a memory I clung to,
a memory of my youth
so long, long ago.
With notebook and pen,
I smiled and bit her farewell.
I whispered her name
as I said a last goodbye.
I didn’t look back
or I would have looked back with regret.
She was a past,
something none of us can ever relive.
poem by David Harris
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Baggy Trousers
Naughty boys in nasty schools
Headmasters breaking all the rules
Having fun and playing fools
Smashing up the woodwork tools
All the teachers in the pub
Passing round the ready-rub
Trying not to think of when
The lunch-time bell will ring again.
Oh what fun we had
But, did it really turn out bad
All I learnt at school
Was how to bend not break the rules
Oh what fun we had
But at the time it seemed so bad
Trying different ways
To make a difference to the days.
Headmasters had enough to-day
All the kids have gone away
Gone to fight with next-doors school
Every term, that is the rule
Sits alone and bends his cane
Same old backsides again
All the small ones tell tall tales
Walking home and squashing snails.
Oh what fun we had
But, did it really turn out bad
All I learnt at school
Was how to bend not break the rules
Oh what fun we had
But at the time it seemed so bad
Trying different ways
To make a difference to the days.
Lots of girls and lots of boys
Lots of smells and lots of noise
Playing football in the park
Kicking pushbikes after dark
Baggy trousers, dirty shirt
Pulling hair and eating dirt
Teacher comes to break it up
Back of the ead with a plastic cup.
Oh what fun we had
But, did it really turn out bad
All I learnt at school
Was how to bend not break the rules
Oh what fun we had
But at the time it seemed so bad
Trying different ways
To make a difference to the days.
Baggy trousers, baggy trousers, baggy trousers
Baggy trousers, baggy trousers, baggy trousers
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happening 1961
Greenfield said
where you from?
London you replied
I don’t like Londoners
he said as a bee
buzzed in the greenhouse
where the rural science teacher
Gable had sent you.
Greenfield pushed you
against the potting bench
and you pushed him
against begonia plants
which fell to the floor
and he punched
your arm
and you punched
his jaw
and he grabbed you
around the waist
and you both
fell to the floor.
You smelt his sweat
and saw blood
drip from his lips.
Get up you gits
another boy said
Old Gable’s coming
and so you pulled
Greenfield up
by the hand
and he brushed off
your school jacket
and you pushed
your fingers
through your hair
and he wiped blood
from his lips
and in came Gable
and said
what’s happening here?
And why are the begonias
on the floor?
My fault you said
I knocked them
with my elbow
and Greenfield
was going to
pick them up
when he banged his jaw
on the bench by accident.
Gable glared
at you both
and said
well bloody well
pick them up
and clean up the mess
and left.
Greenfield held
his handkerchief
to his lip.
You picked up
the begonias
one by one
and put them
on the bench.
Greenfield put them
tidy and neat
and kicked
the spilt earth
under the bench
with his feet.
Gable’s a toss
Greenfield said
and put out
his hand for
you to shake.
You shook his hand
and smiled
and he laughed
and said
I guess Londoners
aren’t all bad
and the bee buzzed
out the open window
and you watched it go
and was glad.
poem by Terry Collett
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A dove and crows
A Park
A dove came to sit
near to a lonely man.
He stops watching the lake
and talks to it
I cannot hear
what he says
But as he seem
to loose his smile,
the dove is chased away
by.. crows..
Moves next to a bench,
Where a young couple
have a small feast
Of course the dove
Gets to be fed few crumbs
But crows come there too!
Like at a signal
Ground is filled with lots of crows now
And more to come! !
Young couple interrupt their eating
Bento goes back inside the bags
they stand ready to run away..
But crows insist! Starts yelling:
One by one, taking turns:
-Craaawwww! ! ! ! Craaaawwww! ! Not fair! !
-Craaaww craaaw only two crumbs..-Pleaaase! !
-What's the criterion
of your food to share?
-The color of my feathers?
-What color I shall dye them, pink! ? !
-The sound of my voice?
-Should I be mute, you think?
-Size? ! ?
-Teach me! How can I shrink? !
-Is it my fault?
-That I'm not cute
-I can't enchant..
-Why? am I so unpleasant?
And then, in chorus:
-Why? ? ! ! ? ?
Being smart..
does not count?
Without a word, couple gone
to answer questions they did not mind
But.. By leaving in such a hurry
not noticed was, the onighiri left behind..
*Bento=Japanese fancy lunch box
*onighiri= rice ball
poem by Elena Sandu
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Was He A Child?
Was he a child? (NARRATED 7/9/10)
I was feeling down and out depressed and in despair
My chest was feeling tight My mind up in the air
Like so many others I was living from week to week
I was all the way down to my lowest peak.
Nothing seemed to console me, so I decided to take a walk.
Sat on a park bench when with me, a child started to talk.
What’s wrong mister? You look like you lost your best friend.
But don’t you worry, for soon it will end.
Its just like when I play baseball, and I want to hit a home run
And when I don’t do it, I feel like getting a gun.
My coach always tells me that I can’t always hit a home run.
As long as I get on base, that’s all that has to be done.
I looked at this child, he had a big smile on his face
He took me back- to another time, another place.
Well I’ve got to run mister to meet my family
For they are always there to hug and comfort me.
I thought: now here is a child with wisdom
Who seems to know more than me.
How is this possible? How can it be?
I turned to thank him and to tell him to have a nice day
But he was gone, he just slipped away.
I got up off the bench and looked all around
But he was not in sight, and nowhere to be found.
I felt a sense of freedom, like a burden taken off of me
For all those cares and worries, no longer bothered me.
WAS HE A CHILD?
poem by Louis Rams
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I Hate Eating Alone In Public
I sat alone to eat at a restaurant today
For the first time in public today
I gotta say I hate eating alone
I used to ask total strangers to eat with me
And I would tell them that I would pay
So they would eat with me
This one guy must of thought I liked him
And that wasn't the case
I just wanted someone to eat with me
He gave me compliments
We had a great conversation
It was fun eating with him
Than I realized
He thought we were on a date
When he said
I never had a girl ask me out
But I didn't have the heart to tell him
I only asked him out to eat
Because I didn't want to eat alone in public
He asked for my number
So I gave him my number
But I never called him back
And if that had been a date
I would of called him back
But it wasn't a date
Now I'm sitting in a restaurant eating alone
And having all these people stare at me
And it make it worse they're all here with a date
And I'm eating here alone
The Bench-Legged Fyce
Speakin' of dorgs, my bench-legged fyce
Hed most o' the virtues, an' nary a vice.
Some folks called him Sooner, a name that arose
From his predisposition to chronic repose;
But, rouse his ambition, he couldn't be beat -
Yer bet yer he got thar on all his four feet!
Mos' dorgs hez some forte - like huntin' an' such,
But the sports o' the field didn't bother him much;
Wuz just a plain dorg, an' contented to be
On peaceable terms with the neighbors an' me;
Used to fiddle an' squirm, and grunt "Oh, how nice!"
When I tickled the back of that bench-legged fyce!
He wuz long in the bar'l, like a fyce oughter be;
His color wuz yaller as ever you see;
His tail, curlin' upward, wuz long, loose, an' slim -
When he didn't wag it, why, the tail it wagged him!
His legs wuz so crooked, my bench-legged pup
Wuz as tall settin' down as he wuz standin' up!
He'd lie by the stove of a night an' regret
The various vittles an' things he had et;
When a stranger, most likely a tramp, come along,
He'd lift up his voice in significant song -
You wondered, by gum! how there ever wuz space
In that bosom o' his'n to hold so much bass!
Of daytimes he'd sneak to the road an' lie down,
An' tackle the country dorgs comin' to town;
By common consent he wuz boss in St. Joe,
For what he took hold of he never let go!
An' a dude that come courtin' our girl left a slice
Of his white flannel suit with our bench-legged fyce!
He wuz good to us kids - when we pulled at his fur
Or twisted his tail he would never demur;
He seemed to enjoy all our play an' our chaff,
For his tongue 'u'd hang out an' he'd laff an' he'd laff;
An' once, when the Hobart boy fell through the ice,
He wuz drug clean ashore by that bench-legged fyce!
We all hev our choice, an' you, like the rest,
Allow that the dorg which you've got is the best;
I wouldn't give much for the boy 'at grows up
With no friendship subsistin' 'tween him an' a pup!
When a fellow gits old - I tell you it's nice
To think of his youth and his bench-legged fyce!
To think of the springtime 'way back in St. Joe -
Of the peach-trees abloom an' the daisies ablow;
To think of the play in the medder an' grove,
When little legs wrassled an' little han's strove;
To think of the loyalty, valor, an' truth
Of the friendships that hallow the season of youth!
poem by Eugene Field
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