5

Something I wrote ages ago. It's a different time and place, but some of it still rings true.

5

Windy nights, crowds in the galleries
The cultured come to get their fix
The ignorant come to pretend
And as I walk a familiar path
every work I set eyes on
From imitation Van Gogh, to watercolors of mist and mountains
Seems somehow to bring me more of the same…


Rainy days and small town cafés
The regular shift and a few strung out teenagers
The T.V talks about the weather
Friends talk about politics
I just sit and stare off smiling, pretending to listen
Stirring a spoon in a small mound of mashed potatoes
And I wonder, about…….


Petty and Perry, sing in turn through the stereo
The windows are down
Sixty out tiny country roads, not a clue, or a care in the world where I am
Then to the highway and on to the next town
Must’ve been through four different cities, three different states
Seen six different counties
With one thing on my mind the entire way…..


Acoustic guitars and coffee houses
The aroma of roasting beans
Hot espresso on the table, indie musicians in the corner
A cup of coffee named Monet, and another named Picasso
The boys sing a song about tomatoes
And all I hear is her name
They enjoy the music, I enjoy the song in my mind….


Nothing new here
Just a little more of it
Suppose I’ve thought about it before
Somewhere in the back of my mind
Only now I find it a little closer…


Late in the night, or early in the morning
Suppose it depends on how you keep time
Fingers on a keyboard by a sudden stroke of inspiration
Writing a poem, for her
Maybe to her? I’m not completely sure.
Nobody writes this kind of thing anymore
 And dear lord, I think that makes me a poet!

Reviews

[Collette]

I really dig it. It kept me interested the entire way through, and your imagery was amazing. A very solid write, indeed. My favorite stanza:
Acoustic guitars and coffee houses
The aroma of roasting beans
Hot espresso on the table, indie musicians in the corner
A cup of coffee named Monet, and another named Picasso
The boys sing a song about tomatoes
And all I hear is her name
They enjoy the music, I enjoy the song in my mind�.

I have some fond memories of the coffee shop scene, and this brought me back to them in a hurry. Thank you for sharing this piece. :)

[Stephen Ownby]

"And dear lord, I think that makes me a poet!" Priceless.

[Celtic Cat]

I really love how the first stanza looks exactly like a coffe cup....set me right up for the whole cafe theme. What a genius piece of writing this is....a bit random and vague...which I think is the beauty of it. I can picture you sitting at the cafe...dreaming of other things. This poem is lovely and touching. I really enjoyed it. Keep 'em coming!!

[Who among Fire]

Oh, this is phenomenal. I like the almost lackadaisical narration & the cynicism... it's more that I like how the person seems to be nonjudgmental while sort of singing his observations. Anyhow, I really like this.

[Stiver]

you know what, man, I really liked this. It's too late and I'm too drunk to give you some textbook bullshit about blah, blah, blah...

I just like it. AND i think I stopped to wonder about this line:

"They enjoy the music, I enjoy the song in my mind�."

I think this all the time--the rest of the worker bees get tangled up in the world, and I just keep smelling flowers.

Thanks James. I gotta stop by more often, man. I've always had some kind of affection for your work and I still do.

Stiver

[Hedra Helix]

sweet juxtaposition between revealing every sight seen and keeping the secret of your thoughts to keep us going.
It makes me recall fog forming from mouths and dreadies on the corner of humboldt streets in hoodies. A totally personal reflection prompted by the feel of your words.

thanks.

beautiful read

[Raef C. Boylan]

Is this a re-post? I feel like I read it before, a long time ago.
Really like the cynical tone, demonstrated through references to coffee house culture:

"The T.V talks about the weather
Friends talk about politics
I just sit and stare off smiling, pretending to listen"

"The cultured come to get their fix
The ignorant come to pretend"

"From imitation Van Gogh"

It's an enjoyable read. The narration is excellent and entertaining; kind of like we're hanging out in the narrator's head while he sits there at a coffee-stained table. The direct, free-flowing nature of this works very well, e.g:

"Writing a poem, for her
Maybe to her? I'm not completely sure.
Nobody writes this kind of thing anymore
And dear lord, I think that makes me a poet!"

Overall, a good write. You paint some vivid scenes for us whilst also making a point.
Thanks for posting this.