Lyric

locked away

in her own mind

sitting silently

the bar-stool like a prop

perched

trying not to be analytical

watching encounters

comings and goings

couples around her

conjoined by tequila

in pre-sunrise moments

shooting jello

like whisky that sours

swapping old stories

and old cars

with a grain of salt

shaken not stirred

in the misty waters

of a tear-stained page

silently she notes

the memory

of a slow dance

on saw dusted floors

with two step promenades

clandestine embraces

in the dimly lit corners

hung like a ballad

on a slow long note

that echoes in the night

humming to the tune

of a long forgotten song

that silenced years ago

in the wake of a muse

the death of a sonnet

perched on the bar-stool

trying not to be analytical

watching each move

placed with precision

like the words of a haiku

by a forgotten poet

drinking a glass of regret

in the closing hours

of a smoke filled room

jotting down

......each pass

............each line

...................each flirt

trying not to be analytical

in the lyric of a poem

bj smith 

aka shallimarRose

 

 

 

 

For more shallimarRose Poetry titles visit my table of contents in my blog...

 

Bits of Me...Table of Contents by title...

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.. feel free to comment/critique

Reviews

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

conjoined by tequila
in pre-sunrise moments -- love these lines...so clever!

This was a very observational write with a lot of clever and witty wordplay. You use language well, and I appreciate that so deeply! This has texture, style, even scents and tastes. Also, the flow was quite nice, which I always appreciate as well. Nicely penned.

[shallimarRose]

Thank you Sarah.. I always appreciate hearing from you.. xo Rose

[Einstein Noodle]

"hung like a ballad
on a slow long note"
those lines move me especially ..lots to enjoy in reading this one ..classical anything gets swept away but does return as it has roots and discipline .. but is so analytical ;)
E.

[Coyote Poetry]

I understand the poem. I went from active person to observer in the bars. Funny how things move around you. I like to talk to people in lonely bars. We learn good stories and wisdom from people swimming in regret. I like the thoughts and places you took me in the poem. Thank you for the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[shallimarRose]

Thank you Coyote.. I am glad you read and related to this one.. xo rose

[RainDancer1997]

Very different and loved it:)! Your very talented, and I can tell you choose your words wisely:)

[shallimarRose]

Thank you again .. xo Rose

[Keith]

Unique, mysterious and beautiful, those sad images just flow. Thanks Rose.

[shallimarRose]

Thanks for reading Keith.. xoxo

[Night]

Brilliantly written....your words were chosen perfectly!

[shallimarRose]

Thank you my friend.. shallimarRose

[Rita L. Sev]

Poetry is found in everything, even in this smoke-filled room (or perhaps especially there...).

the death of a sonnet
perched on the bar-stool

This made me sad - and I look to the poet to resurrect the poem...

Wonderful rhythm and atmosphere in this piece, Rose.

[shallimarRose]

Thank you Rita for a lovely review.. xo Rose

[Sharon L.H. Kelly]

You know, I just absolutely love how you mold and maneuver words so beautifully. This had to be a huge effort. At least let me think that, Ok?! This is going in my 'favorites'!

[shallimarRose]

New favorite huh? Awww, thank you Sharon for coming to read and the kind words.. xo shallimarRose

[ron]

Very well done. I like it. A bar full of people and trying not to notice what they do or who they are.
Sounds like a few of my visit to a bar.

[shallimarRose]

Thank you Ron.. Actually she is not only noticing but taking notes...while trying not to analyze too much the secret rendezvous... Im glad you liked it.. xo Rose

[Jack...]

Sometimes a poet's inspiration is beauty and sometimes it comes from the south end of a long ago memory, dusty in the dark and louder than liked. Writing under a neon light that seems to smile when we don't. Very nice Rose. This feels very sad to me. eyes peering through the smoke, remembring days...oh those days.

[shallimarRose]

You hit the nail right on the head Jack.. It is meant to feel sad and melancholy.. Perhaps as she jots down notes on that tear stained page she is a forgotten poet that was driven to drink by something or someone.. I glass of regret can taste quite bitter. I know first hand..
So glad you felt this one.. xo Rose