Robert Zucker: : Traveling Show

The Traveling Show

“Then the angel that talked with me went forth, and said unto me,

Lift up now thine eyes, and see what is this that goeth forth.” 

Zechariah 5:5

Traveling on a rainbow

In hopes to reach the sun.

A piece of sky, a piece of dream With angels across the heavens.


Traveling Show minstrelTreading the waters by the riverside.

Collecting flowers that grow nearby.

The wind seems to sweep me away.

Blowing endlessly past my eyes.


Am I a player in a Traveling Show

To amuse the audience for awhile?

Am I the seeker who lost his way?

Paying for the people to smile?

For nickels and dimes I make my living

To be spent in a round about way.

Behind it a gray wall of smoke I stand to face the world each day.

When I look for some direction, only the flame dances before my eyes.

And it leads me to keep wondering if the river is just a bit too wide.

Have I’ve been changing, rearranging all of my world to see?

Have I lived in the memories of what I’m supposed to be?

And I’m a player in a Traveling Show
Who entertains the simple souls?

Am I the seeker who lost his way?

A stranger I’ll never know.

#463 November 20, 1974. Written at age 24, I’m the Traveler- looking ahead while looking back.

The Dream 

Dream about it all.

For what is here now

Will be gone tomorrow.

And with it all will be the dreams of

Yesterday’s tears and sorrow.


A thought of someone

Will last only for a short time.

It will soon be forgotten

And pushed to the back of the mind.

Remind yourself

Of the good things in life.

For only happiness will help

To make things go right.


Don’t let the past fade for only a tear will take the place

Of the fears that will invade memories that can’t be retraced.


I hope your thoughts of me

And the past that we shared together

Will never cease to exist

For the dreams will still be there.


There’s not much to remember me by

Except for the poems I left behind.

Just don’t make the living past ever die

For it is imprisoned by our minds.


Thank you for the kindness you’ve shown.

And happiness you brought me each day.

And for making my life feel at home

Though my hopes are so far away.

I’ll always remember the past

It’s a stepping-stone of what’s to come.

For shadows of the future that have been cast

From dreams far beyond will forever shine on.

I’m writing this poem as an appreciation

And to all of my friends

Who have helped make my life shine.

Thank you.

#25 November 12, 1970. Written at age 16, when I begin to sort out the world ahead of me.

The Story

Gather around and let me share

The wisdom I have recently learned.

Get comfortable as I tell you where,

And how, all this new experience has turned

Life into a circle game.

I’ve learned a secret only known to me.

I’ve seen what this secret can show and what it means.

Let me relate some experiences from the past.

It’s not very important, but you’ll see,

What it’s done to make this secret last.

Trust me sincerely, as I trust you.

Don’t let this secret get away. For only harm it will do.

Don’t let this secret the stay deep inside of you.

Don’t be fooled. It’s not worth the pain to find out

About these secrets the hard and painful way.

But don’t just wait and sit and watch the rain.

Now, I’ll tell you what I know.

Just be careful and listen.

Then you can go and show

That this secret is about someone I know.

#42 November 17, 1970 Wrote this during high school, an eerie preface of what’s to come.

Who can tell?

And so the story goes of the man and the beast.

The hate and fighting between them never ceased.

Then one day, the man decided to get back at him.

He took a part of the tree and hit him with the limb.

The beast got mad and started to explode.

Now comes the best part, as it is told. The beast killed the man and ruined his land.

He got so mad. Wherever he went, everything was damned.

He left destruction upon the earth and no one to be. Many had died. No one lived. The only thing alive was he.

That is like the story of the present day.

When this beast will destroy the world, no one can say.

When this beast does come, all will be known.

Who is this beast? It is the bomb.

#2 January 19, 1969. Age 15, one of my first poems about the struggles of ourselves against the world.

Words of a poem

Pages of books

Strewn around the room

Of stories someone

Once had written

Now lie crumbled, torn

And burned

Words that have

Lost their meaning.


The man throws a glass against the wall

It shatters into a million pieces

Each piece tells the story of a thousand broken dreams.


The woman pushes back her curly hair

Seems she’s getting a little bit older

Losing their senses of what to do

Loneliness sets in when time gets longer.


And are you so happy

You lived so long

Wasting your whole life

Into words of a poem.

The man shakes his head

What else is he going to do.

Pages of lines written to read

The story of another man’s world.

1972, Age 18, about my fears of the future and how they are embodied in the words of a poem.


Copyright © 2012-2013 BZB Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of the material protected by this copyright may be reproduced or utilized in any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the copyright owner and author.

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Buy "Traveling Show" on Amazon

The Traveling Show is a collection of poems and artwork that ravels together a storyline of the lives of the people who pass through one’s life.

Paperback: 232 pages
Publisher: BZB Publishing Incorporated (October 17, 2013)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1939050030
ISBN-13: 978-1939050038

Product Dimensions: 11 x 8.5 x 0.5 inches
Shipping Weight: 1.5 pounds