A Bar Stool Baby
The Morgue File
wantonness is a slow burn
moving silently toward shadows
left behind bar stools on a hazy Saturday night,
picking its way among the wreckage
trailed in from lives disintegrating
one decibel at a time,
finding life in thieves' movements
a slip of lip
in a bathroom stall.
are you all in yet?
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015
The midweek motif at Poets United is all about choices this week, Here is my bit.
whew I was once but luckily I lived through it. it is a slow burn that will eventually leave you little more than ash.
ReplyDeleteSobering! (No pun intended.)
ReplyDeleteSoo full of depth & wisdom!! š
ReplyDeleteBreathtaking!
ReplyDeleteA depressing reality. Awful choice of a way to live.Although in the third world a lot of girls have to pole dance in bars to feed their extended families ...we comfortable westerners should not be judgmental about these poor girls.
ReplyDelete"moving silently toward shadows" indeed...
ReplyDeleteThis made me think of what it must be like in a nightclub in the morning (literal or otherwise) - of the harsh light of day and the mess that needs to be cleaned up - skilfully written
ReplyDeleteThere is so much truth in this....my goodness, Audrey, you are only getting better.
ReplyDeleteThis was a scene that never appealed to me, even when I was young and not very bright, LOL. You painted it to perfection.
ReplyDeleteOh dear - my comment wilt publish. Hm. Really good poem - you bring just the right feeling to it.
ReplyDeleteNicely written, Audrey! A harsh reality here.
ReplyDeleteWhen it's slow there may be time for other choices. You evoke a mood that I have not experienced but can imagine.
ReplyDeleteSo very sensual.
ReplyDeleteRaw poetry...you bring the scene so clearly with your details and paint a portrait of a life in this area of choice...well written!
ReplyDeleteRaw poetry...you bring the scene so clearly with your details and paint a portrait of a life in this area of choice...well written!
ReplyDeleteLove it, from start to finish!
ReplyDeleteSo it is, a slow burn until we wholly disintegrate ~
ReplyDeleteLucky for me, this is not someting I was ever involved with. But those who are making choices that may hurt them, deserve our compassion, their choices are probably founced in ignorance and pain. So sad.
ReplyDeleteThis life fragment will influence all further events for them, sadly...
ReplyDeleteThis poem was deep, really deep. Loved it. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteGreetings from London.
Humans have a bit of mess of their evolution I wonder which animal will be dominate next...or insect perhaps. (I had to put that last bit in as the ants and cockroaches were giving me a strange look)
ReplyDeleteWhen we seek the slip of lip in bathroom stalls I think we cannot sink further.
ReplyDeleteThis makes me think of energy: the energy of where you "hang out" and if you're in a sub-par place, your cup isn't filled.
ReplyDeleteBut, as always, I love, love your poetry.
It's unfortunate that for some people living like this is the only viable choice they have... Well-penned!
ReplyDeleteThis is perfectly written and in combo with the photo - wow, I felt it. Didn't feel good . . . ha - glad to be an adult a (mostly) content adult.
ReplyDeleteAn intriguing image of the single scene, expressed clearly and without reservation.
ReplyDeleteWould love to see something this good written on the restroom wall :)
ReplyDelete