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Open Poetry #49
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Inside the Cleveland Street Bar
| Open Poetry #49 |
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Inside the Cleveland Street Bar |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana 
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This is an original form of poetry I conjured up in 2007, and call it "Septcouplet;" from Septette (A set of seven similar things considered as a unit) and couplet (Two successive lines of verse forming a unit marked usually by rhythmic correspondence, rhyme.) The Septcouplet consists of seven free-style verses, with six lines each, no syllable count. After each verse there are two lines which rhyme, with four syllables to each line. The style is lowercase, except for proper names, punctuation when needed inside the lines, but none at the end of lines. In other words it is a fairly laid back form of poetry, much like me. wandering misfit looking for an oasis overwhelmed by loneliness, tortured by disingenuousness of life need for human contact fosters frustration shabbiness of life intolerable Cleveland Street Bar irresistible force pulling him inside door locked up tight buzzed-in tonight sawdust floor, broken teeth particles imbedded within slipped mental moorings reason for nocturnal jaunt into world of smoke-filled tough gutted with desire to press flesh against flesh seeking out bodies crammed on stools telling lies, hearing same sense of comfort your last resort panicky, icicle jabs prick your dismay staring at yourself in each haggard face eyes swiveled, scrutinizing new meat then back to their misery-laced frivolity seeking what they seek, alley cat morals human, clinging barnacles full-body stench most speaking French New Orleans, squandered delights cross-dressing Cajun queens sprinkled here and there tonguing words with faux mouths more in touch with their femininity than the average Joe smiling with distorted eyes trying to blend in do you think queers can be sincere Cleveland Street Bar, mishmash of off-course characters wretched people seeking respite wishing for just one good day annoying barmaid with rapier-like wit skin loose, heavily veined tired face hisses back like a moccasin making your play maybe she may eyes crawl over her body, breasts, hips undress her with your best smile, which is a leer in your stupor she is seraphic innocence talent for deceiving oneself cowardly seeking balm for your black soul within this den of Cleveland Street Bar psychotics and losers one final try for thigh to thigh odd juncture, where words mean not what they say self-pity, lowest of nadir emotion like sex, unnecessary to be proficient to benefit from just want to be happy not change solar system, just a ersatz smile will do she blew bitter cold wind straight into his face back on the street life is deceit ©November 10, 2016 / Jerry Pat Bolton ~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~ [This message has been edited by JerryPat2 (12-31-2016 12:58 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2016 Jerry Pat Bolton - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Bluesy Socrateaser Member Elite
since 2002-11-07
Posts 2417In The Mirror |
Beyond 5-7-5, I never quite understood styles like Balladeer did. I'm certain there were none unfamiliar and even mastered by him while he was with us, but this one is all your own JerryPat and I find that astounding! It's a tale of interactions that appeal to me, that is, I feel like I've been to a few places like your "Cleveland Street Bar". Through it all, I found this little gem most appealing: quote:Your talents really shine with this piece Sir. ...just bein' Bluesy |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
Bluesy, Bluesy, Bluesy! I am so grateful to you, sir, for your ever so kind thoughts turned into words concerning my Poetry. ~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~ |
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DaysofView Member
since 2014-04-01
Posts 433Just A Slice Of The Pie |
You can't just make stuff like this up! You must have seen things like this so you better not go back! A very good poem, but some of it is weird and even a little scary like being around all those crossdressers! I want to die in my sleep like my grandfather...not like the passengers screaming in the back of his car. |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
Nope, I didn't make this up. The poem was my remembrance of the bar back in my "two lost decades," and it was for real, Stacy. I went there often, it was sort of an oasis for me in those very troubling days of mine. Yes, it was a rough bar, but usually you didn't get into trouble unless you were there asking for it. Thank you for checking out the poem. ~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~ |
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