WOMAN AT THE BAR

A new edition of an old poem.

You've seen her a hundred times
With a hundred faces
But she's always the same
Always at the bar
She's there when you arrive
And she'll be there when you you leave
There beside the fullest ash-tray
Lighting another cigarette
With fluttery fidgety fingers

Her lipstick is far too red
And not quite straight
Too much make up to hide the lines
Which show all the more
As she cracks the mask to smile
Her hair is too yellow
And her eyes are long lost grey
The arc which her glass follows to her mouth
Is restless and constant

As the evening wears on
She will talk too loudly
She may even sing out of tune
She will laugh too shrilly
When nothing is funny
But sometimes
When it's late
She sheds silent messy tears
As she rocks on her bar stool
Because there's a reason
This woman at the bar
Has a story as real as any other
And it matters just as much

                                    By Phil Roberts

Reviews

[J3ssInJupit3r]

I love this poem. I loved the use of alliteration "fluttery, fidgety fingers". I loved how you described how she looks too. Have you seen American Horror Story? It somewhat reminds me of the character Jessica Lange always plays. A lost, lonely older woman who wears a mask of different sorts. Wonderful piece I am so glad you shared this. I really enjoyed it and I will for sure be putting it on my favorites list. :)

[Phil Roberts]

Thanks very much for the encouragement :)

[Jacqueline]

That woman has probably seen many things; experienced many highs and lows. I like how you paint her as being somewhat hopeless to change but determined to be where she's at.

[Phil Roberts]

Thank you very much. You'Re very kind :)