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Philip Shamplina write on! showcase poem poetry

From Waiting Room to Departure Lounge

by Philip Shamplina

 

In the beginning, from your birth

You’ll never know, in the future, what you’ll be worth

Hatch, match and dispatch

For some, for a living, they have to scratch

Living on the wrong side of the tracks

With no-one to watch their backs

 

For some it will be a battle

And many cages they’ll have to rattle

Others who live in large mansions

And on whom there are no sanctions

 

They are bold, arrogant, not at all feeble

And quite often they can give you the needle

And many are disagreeable

They are the beautiful people, part of the in-crowd

Are always noticed because they talk so loud

 

For others, always with cap in hand

Life does not turn out to be so grand

So from waiting room to departure lounge

To onlookers they appear to always be on the scrounge

 

Life’s not fair, you hear so often quoted

It’s so often noted

In fact many go unnoticed

If life was fair we would all be equal

But there never is a sequel

 

For when life’s on the other foot

You can feel the boot

Not welcome, you’re shown the door

And you wonder if you’ll ever score

Three strikes and you’re out

On your bike, that’s what it’s all about

From waiting room to departure lounge

More often than not, they’re on the scrounge

Fed up doing the rounds

 

In the waiting room he’ll bed down for the night

Can’t rent a room as money’s tight

So he has to rough sleep

Don’t earn enough for his keep

The road upwards is steep

 

The years pass by, so very fast

As time goes on you keep looking for your next repast

Three score years and ten

What happens then?

 

In the distance you see the way out sign

Life’s not been fun, not a pantomime

No happy end in sight

Another sleepless night

 

So he’ll take refuge in the departure lounge

No difference, still on the scrounge

Tomorrow, same old, same old

From when you were once young and now have become old

 

Now in the departure lounge, what a cringe

Another bottle, another binge

So to sleep, another stupor

Never seen as a super duper

More as an interloper

 

From cradle to grave

Another life saved

How he managed to survive

But he did to the age of seventy five

No-one knows, but he did manage to live a full life

Never married, no children, no spouse, no wife

 

 

Copyright Philip Shamplina 2020

 

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For some it will be a battle
And many cages they’ll have to rattle
Others who live in large mansions
And on whom there are no sanctions