Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
It was when I counted my wallet That a coin fell down. It rolled down the granite to under a chair; My eyes followed behind. I, as any average man, bent down And crept to my lost possession Until a foot stepped on it. ‘Finders keepers!’—that was his philosophy. It was a bar, and alcohol smoked in the air. Red visionless eyes sang drunken songs And drunken minds danced like clowns lost in the dark. Glasses slipped and shattered - the scent of whiskey red. I looked on my enemy, drunk than me. I demanded my rights in the boldest tone. He spoke a silent no. I spoke next with fists--tables broke, chairs crashed. He plunged forth -- we fought and wrestled; We were drunk in beer, ego and money. Clothes tore, blood spilled, bones nearly broke. Giving up was not our ideal. I hit that dog like I would have killed him. I made way to my money, but before I could, He kicked my fragile jaw--I was pinned. The game ended – Mammon was pleased. I collected my last inch of power, fired with fury; I grasped the broken bottle, and dived The blade to his chest. The coin fell off his hand, his life off his body. The crowd looked on in silent horror. I gaped immobile. The blood accused me. The coin shone silver in the blood stains. One by one, I counted my tears fusing in the whiskey.
0
Dec 15, 2010
Dec 15, 2010 at 7:34 AM UTC
Drunken Minds
It was when I counted my wallet That a coin fell down. It rolled down the granite to under a chair; My eyes followed behind. I, as any average man, bent down And crept to my lost possession Until a foot stepped on it. ‘Finders keepers!’—that was his philosophy. It was a bar, and alcohol smoked in the air. Red visionless eyes sang drunken songs And drunken minds danced like clowns lost in the dark. Glasses slipped and shattered - the scent of whiskey red. I looked on my enemy, drunk than me. I demanded my rights in the boldest tone. He spoke a silent no. I spoke next with fists--tables broke, chairs crashed. He plunged forth -- we fought and wrestled; We were drunk in beer, ego and money. Clothes tore, blood spilled, bones nearly broke. Giving up was not our ideal. I hit that dog like I would have killed him. I made way to my money, but before I could, He kicked my fragile jaw--I was pinned. The game ended – Mammon was pleased. I collected my last inch of power, fired with fury; I grasped the broken bottle, and dived The blade to his chest. The coin fell off his hand, his life off his body. The crowd looked on in silent horror. I gaped immobile. The blood accused me. The coin shone silver in the blood stains. One by one, I counted my tears fusing in the whiskey.
Written by
Dec 15, 2010
Dec 15, 2010 at 7:34 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem