The place for writers: Upload your writing in minutes, receive peer feedback from other writers, poets, authors, then get your work published out there in the real world. Learn how other writers are doing it.
Steady hands light this cigarette on
this night or is it still after
the noon sun drove me here
under the whipped drooping ceiling
fans click against the up beats
of the clackety music offending
each silent sip
on this day the man sitting next
to me smells of damp
stone walls in a basement but
besides that
beside me his liquor
lacquered voice glides
on about
as far as I'm concerned You can
Have the bitch
to no one
and not me remembering
the day when I too had a bitch
that wore sundresses
and never shoes on sundays
the sunbeams were lazy and thick
in her bedroom
but goddamn the weather putting out
a cigarette withoug shaking
always a difficult endeavor
Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...
I can definitely feel some hurt in this one...
Seems like the speaker is speaking of some sort of past relationship
that went wrong and left him in the gutter.
Nice write.
I like this one more than the other. THe phrase: "liquor laquered voice" sticks with me. I also like how you put in the man's dialogue, though he wasn't speaking directly to the "speaker." I think that, if this were my piece, I may remove or tweak the final line. The poem is a reflection piece, but it all seems very present until that line...kind of summing up the whole thing, where it seems like it would end well with "a cigarette without shaking." I LOVE this piece though. I'm going to bookshelve it so I can have it!
