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Jeff Lewis Sep 20
Ordering a drink.
      I really need that empty glass.  

The lights are slow.   The pace
                        is dim.    The room
         has a sense of non about it.
A piano man plays
                    tuneless  songs.        
                   And couples    stare    
     past each other.
I kept trying to tag a positive end on this poem, and every time I did it told me to F' off and get back to work
Ivy Leigh Aug 28
The need to breathe
and hold firm
in a room full of turds
over-weighs the hate
or the buzz in my mind.
Nevertheless I take that breath
and continue the journey
into my head
to find and lose
myself in others words.
I wont fall into rabbit holes
off of bar stools
that only lead to unhappy
upsets, shallow eyed
and deep tasting jacks
and cokes with drunken orders
of fries.
I can only imagine
the feeling of a piercing end
by bullet, knife, or choking line:
the sadness isn't as deep as alcohol runs
behind backs and under noses.
Megan Hammer Aug 5
The River Seine, I remember well
And his bedroom window just above the stream
The gleam of a basement bar in Bruges
Blue eyes he poured out of over a mug

All I can think of is laughing and stumbling in the street
The cathedral as I sat in his lap, soft as the hour passed
Laughing at boys who were drunker than us
Asking each other which way the hotel was

Kissing in the dark in the back of the pub
Just look at him - how the eyes pour out
Pouring the most important thing into me,
Words I keep scrawled on a note in my pocket

Because he’s not here to tell me anymore
Doesn’t mean I can’t go back to the River Seine
Or a cathedral or the bar or the square

I can still hear it, the eyes pouring out
James Rowley Jul 26
Visiting once more brought the smells all back,
Stout, mixed with cigar smoke, maybe.
I guess it still lingers; Damp had crept  into the only wall left
Burrowing its way in, nesting in the crevices.
It must have been 6, maybe 7 years to the day
When I got a beer from Seamus at the bar
And watched Jack, Billy and Sean down Guinness
With all the finesse of  blind dogs.
What dogs they were though, the furious three;
Piercingly loud they screeched
At every dart that narrowly escaped the clutches of the bulls eye
And nestled itself in the matted padding of the run-down walls.
Even on its last legs, Carlton Vale still kicked with its escaping life;
Now it is clear that desire to fight
Went away the moment the bulldozer touched that first wall, and
All that is left is Billy’s lucky dart
Defending its resting place in the centre of my memories.
Feedback would be appreciated :)
Jon Thenes Jul 18

Been drinkin’ The Devil

but ****** run dry

I’ve drunk to his memory

and thirst after his family

I attended the funeral

pretended to cry

approached the open bar

and began to pry my luck

Bartender was most generous

Said he once was the Devils’ mascot

he poured me something unfamiliar

I awoke

scratching the inside of the casket

                         - i think I’m gonna be sick
Spelling has been corrected and minor alterations made, where the obvious intent and what was written deviated.
He smelled like a bar I was too young to get into and marlboro lights
just for a while, I wanted to live something new
to wake up to pancakes in the morning and kisses on the cheek
instead of with my heart broken from the night before and a sinking feeling in my stomach
I hated you for the things you chose over me and the love you never gave
I hated you because a daughter should never have to beg her father for a relationship
newpoetica Jun 29
it's four in the morning,
and the man you left is sitting on the barstool still in mourning.
he's trying to understand how you feel,
but it's really difficult to do since when  it comes to shots he's had his fill.
he wonders what he did wrong in the your relationship that from his perspective is "ours,"
and what you don't see as you walk away is that he feels remorse so he'll continue this cycle for hours.
some fun wordplay and rhyming :)
Prescribed drugs
Sipped with liquor

A lethal cocktail
Genre: Clinical
Theme: A taste of life
Jenna Apr 25
People walk all about
Humming a soundless tune of self-doubt
The drinks keep coming
Steeped in endless fuming

Friends joke around
A truth sealed and bound
Hiding behind a deadpan
Sustaining the image of an American man

‘More!’, everyone shouts
Raising their cups forgetting their spouse
Sitting here with a straight face
Wanting to forget my workplace
This is based off Miss Lonelyhearts by Nathaniel West. Please give me lots of feedback even if you have not read the book. Thank! :)
Jules AA Apr 4
The night I left, the band was playing
Billy Joel, and Jazz guitar.
Your art was scattered around the room.
Your welcome voice, the sound of drums,
And rock and roll covers.
Glasses clinking amid dangling wires,
Acrobats hanging from the roof,
In the trees, always watching.
The bar was closed,
But we hung around
The Pinocchio dolls, murals
All red and purple.
And we could hear the cars go by ‘till 5 AM.
Our throats were raw from camels, conversing.
And now the band is gone, the doors have closed,
But even if the acrobats have met their ends
They live on in our minds,
Swinging from the roof,
With the Pinocchio dolls.
One of the first poems I wrote upon deciding to commit to poetry :)
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