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Oldblackhare Oldblackhare Poem
Walking an endless path, faithfully.
Crossing no familiar silhouettes,
glancing at no warm faces.
Still travelling, still in silence.
Glimpsing, registering each moment.
Most timeless as dream paralysis.
Others, memorable almost enjoyable,
Startling, as the first skipped beat,
of a heart touched by love.
Watching, and remembering each moment,
so I have more fuel to light up inside my chest.
Only to be gone, as light swallowed by
dark after a bloody red sunset.
Some still try to reach my tired eyes,
some curse me, as if I'm darkness itself.
I embrace it.
Those scars deepen my perception,
stronger, broken, just enough
to navigate through chaos.
I may appear, shining as the purest tin.
But don't be fooled, a single touch,
is enough to reframe my shape...
Only, to deceive me, or them.
I never know.
What I know is that I'm still human,
yet, some days I don’t use it.
I'm just a mad one, who knows the rules,
only to not follow them.
Copyright © OldBlackHare OldBlackHare | Year Posted 2026
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Oldblackhare Oldblackhare Poem
If it were ever possible to be seen or heard,
it would amaze me
to find myself inside you
my shape carved
by the harsh reality
of what you made of me.
I am a thing—
a jigsaw of
your silent prayers,
crumbs of curses,
you never spoke.
I refract through every lens,
I might appear to fight your demons,
then sit and praise them quietly,
or I might orchestrate their evilness,
just to watch your breathing fade.
I could be the waiter six feet under,
serving dinner to worms,
on a cold night.
I could be the hand behind the barrel,
aimed at your beloved face.
I might be the one beside you,
in your daily ride to work,
or the friend,
who loosens the weight in your chest.
I could be a stranger
surviving on the sidewalk.
I can be the air you breathe,
and still
you would never meet my eyes.
I could be you—
or a part of you
that sparks every doubt
and silences every certainty.
Through my words,
we could face each other,
for minutes,
like a passing coffee,
or for years,
aging quietly
inside your thoughts.
Or for an eternity
walking beside me
unraveling—
undoing your existence.
Copyright © OldBlackHare OldBlackHare | Year Posted 2026
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Oldblackhare Oldblackhare Poem
I see myself
from a distance.
T h e r e is c h o i ce,
I never can pick.
They act,
I am not aligned.
W he n w e h a v e i t d o n e,
it is myself in the line.
Living like a sentinel,
watching every beam of light,
but the mirror is too fractured.
W e pu t y o u a si d e.
I own this mind and body.
yet they are shared,
by many.
U r r i g h t!
We are touched,
by flames and light.
Ripped by incongruity,
watching, living or being?
He got tired of surface,
Dove deep in the depth.
W e 'r e th e g l i t ch.
Freeing us,
for some would be a gift.
W e' r e s o m e k in d o f er r @r.
Copyright © OldBlackHare OldBlackHare | Year Posted 2026
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Oldblackhare Oldblackhare Poem
Travel inward, walking in tight
corridors of a rundown maze.
Suffocating within these bricks,
built by sweat and tears.
Obfuscated by the mist that,
blinds, and smells rosemary.
Turns creating uncountable corners,
leaving space for beings to breathe.
Beings that watch — and stalk.
The cracks on the walls can seduce
with outward's gaze, but there is no escape.
Any window or ledges — and the thought
of walking back to face them shivers my soul.
These walls built me too, each drop
of sweat, like metal for hardening.
Each drop of tear, like light for clarity.
Lost, but I keep moving.
Not chained, just surrounded.
I was never alone, like a kid
that leaves crumbles in the forest.
I was already in pieces, pieces of my own spirit.
They were me.
They told me:
“Pierce the pain. Look beyond.”
I did not.
I cannot will —
I can only long.
Imust not become nothing.
I remain unfinished.
Copyright © OldBlackHare OldBlackHare | Year Posted 2026
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Oldblackhare Oldblackhare Poem
In the midst of my own storm
unnamed, unspoken, unnoticed –
the silence is deafening, unbearable,
yet too sacred to be shattered.
Desire presented himself to me, softly,
I turned away and did not return.
Not from fear nor sorrow,
but for love —
for the discipline of stillness.
I embrace the ache
over its guilty sweetness,
I chose to cradle the pain,
so others may dream.
Time unfolded its wings above me,
hovering over my heavy crown.
Not rushing nor judging,
just shifting the shape of my feelings.
And when the ache softened,
the silence slowly started to whisper.
I saw the truth:
The wound had always been my gift.
Not for glory
neither for praise.
But for peace
that blooms in restraint.
Copyright © OldBlackHare OldBlackHare | Year Posted 2026
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Oldblackhare Oldblackhare Poem
I came from a fire-forge,
withholding pressure,
and heat.
It had prepared me.
A path designed, not chosen.
I sipped my soul, tasted only bitterness.
A glance in memory, and there is
no stillness.
A realm that scares me to death.
So I am waking up instead.
Known only by me,
my vow.
For all lights that I shut out,
For every tear — each dropout.
For all bruises, mistaken over years,
every scar that I had caused.
This is my pain and my burden.
Each day, a glance in the eyes,
Making sure to keep warm.
To love the world as it is.
Copyright © OldBlackHare OldBlackHare | Year Posted 2026
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Oldblackhare Oldblackhare Poem
Suddenly, something grew inside my heart
Holding back the hemorrhage.
Ignoring all those years,
all those layers,
the weight that eroded me.
I couldn't look in the mirror,
recognize myself anymore.
I had changed.
It spread easily and steadily—
Asking no permission—just
silently rushing within my limits.
Found a force that tore me apart,
it needed to be released.
Never meant to harm you or myself.
It was the strongest,
I couldn't allow it to flourish.
For some, even love isn't enough.
I was dead anyway.
And I question myself,
Was it in vain? Was it a lesson?
Never wanted to break my word,
However, I could never become this one.
Never could I excuse that.
Your boundaries weren’t questioned or pressured.
But surely you always knew why
we ended up apart.
You know well that
I hold this bruise until death.
I keep quietly walking,
towards a cynical future.
Somehow your presence,
would make me drop the trigger.
Breathing, seeking ways
to stay away.
And if I could, I would paint the skies
pitch black, chaotic as tempests.
I hadn't shown you the storms.
Yet, wherever you were, surely
you would recognize my art.
Copyright © OldBlackHare OldBlackHare | Year Posted 2026
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Oldblackhare Oldblackhare Poem
Never meant to feel the loneliness of the crowded reality.
Nor the companionship of the isolating imagination.
The inversions of time — they mirror our reflection within ourselves,
only to show something that is fated never to align.
Like water shifting each instant, bypassing rocks with softness.
Breaking them with patience — yet humans were never meant to be both.
The mind was not designed to hold both.
The dancer and critic.
The gun and the victim.
The angel and the demon.
The imagination and reality.
The voices screaming quietly inside the head at 3AM.
The light from the moon, revealing fingers unconsciously gripping at the desk.
The veins tightening in the brain,
the late nights trembling.
The confusion becomes real,
understood only by itself.
Creating minds that travel through time, space, and dimensions — infinitely seeking meaning.
Scanning every step, every corner, finding only distortion — error.
How wonderful and dangerous,
how playful and tedious,
how certain and ambiguous,
it could shine like sun on a river, or dilute you into its eternity.
So beware — when you dance beside these waters,
the glance is seductive —
think twice before stepping beyond the borders.
It may free you — or break you.
Copyright © OldBlackHare OldBlackHare | Year Posted 2026
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Oldblackhare Oldblackhare Poem
I gazed at the warmth
in your smile,
careful not to meet your eyes,
stepping back just enough
to stay in control.
Sitting on the balcony,
waiting to watch
your first sip of coffee,
where sunlight touched your skin,
and I lost my balance quietly.
I could choose to touch,
embrace,
even choose to love you.
I didn't.
This fleeting moment
is too fragile
to endure a touch.
Longing to become
two statues mirroring each other,
hung from a cathedral,
resisting time.
Thousands would cross between us,
yet I would remain fixed on you.
Witnessing uncountable battles
over the centuries,
gazing at the fractures in you.
Beneath loud voices in prayer,
and still I would find
your silence.
When our time comes,
even reduced to dust,
we would resist.
Paralyzed in memory,
frozen in pictures made of us,
carried through stories
that will age before us.
In that stillness,
I would hold nothing of the world.
A simple move
would be impossible.
Still—
I would have you.
Now—
I realize
I was yours too.
Copyright © OldBlackHare OldBlackHare | Year Posted 2026
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Oldblackhare Oldblackhare Poem
Enchanted by your voice, I almost fell asleep,
in a field full of sunflowers, dreaming reality could mirror dreams.
I followed you so far, unconcerned by the fatigue,
walking through danger just to keep my place beside you.
Loved you so hard, when I saw you I missed a beat,
rational as I am, I was startled that I lost my breath.
I carried it to wake with you beside me,
wondering at night if an angel could be disguised.
Hearing you, I learned that dreams could also become scary.
Seeing you near taught me vigilance.
Loving you moved me across worlds — but I had traveled far enough.
Carrying it this long, I saw our colors — bold and subtle — filling the canvas.
Now.
My ears can listen from afar, but I cannot hear you.
My legs could cross layers of hell, but not to reach you.
My heart now beats fast as falling leaves, but not seeing you pass by.
I still carry it — but it no longer shines the same.
Copyright © OldBlackHare OldBlackHare | Year Posted 2026
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