by Brian Francis
Friday night is here it would seem
I have made it through the week
Putting up with all the stresses
And crazy assed people and the freaks
To sit there as I watch them as they are
dancing all around me - I am aghast
Counting down the hours until I finally
Get the chance to put my pen down at last
The bar is dark and smokey with the music
Blaring loudly in the hall. I search
but cannot find you, are you hiding possibly
or are you not even here at all
I’ve been waiting all of the week
To see you - to touch your hand.
To look into your eyes and
See your loving smile to have
my embers fanned
I feel the sorrows come upon me
As I willingly drown my soul in drink.
The dulling of life’s miseries
Swallow after swallow until I cannot think
I watch the mirrors
For your face, I am
Scanning the crowds
Flashes, catch my
As my vision clouds
Posted on 05/14/2020
Copyright © 2024 Brian Francis
|Member Comments on this Poem
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 05/14/20 at 04:42 PM
How curious to read this and think about how most bars aren't even open now and to get to see someone who doesn't live with us can be chancy. The longing you describe here is doubled in our present situation, I think. Thanks for this.
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 05/14/20 at 06:19 PM
I agree with Kristina. Fast moving visual and cerebral poem. Seems almost out of place in the current world situation. Well done!
|Posted by Laura Doom on 05/15/20 at 10:45 PM
In the absense of natural stimuli, the imagination takes control - fever dances with fervour.