THE SPATA Poem by Betty Hermeleerelationships, time for a stiff drink
THE SPAT The pub is murkily lit Stench of smoke permeates Photos of unknowns cloak the cracked walls A filthy fan spins and waifs the foul air
I am a broken soul No path to turn Other than to drink The barmaid takes notice She senses my morose And without ask Pours me some whiskey I smell the booze My medicinal for sure
One other patron Sits a distance A table far in the corner Wide brim hat covers his face I bet he’s forlorn too
I am in no temper to converse My body pains, my spirit rifts Spat with my wife She’s sulky too What was our quarrel? Nothing special Just years of presence Perhaps we consider a change Yet I may bemoan this notion
The barmaid pours me another whiskey
© 2022 Betty HermeleeReviews
|
Stats
159 Views
15 Reviews Added on January 2, 2022 Last Updated on January 2, 2022 AuthorBetty HermeleeBlack Mountain, NCAboutMy love of poetry results from my love of art. As a painter I am able to express myself on a canvas. As a poet my words come from my heart, my moods, sometimes sad, mostly upbeat. I like to use vivid .. more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|