deepundergroundpoetry.com
never get close
from a distance, she looked good.
a silhouette without a strict outline, flaring gently
in the proper places: the full, ripened orbs adorning
her sublime anatomy; her hips, where they reigned
imperiously on the bar stool. a very poetic flaring, like
a blue balloon slowly inflated, or rippling concentric
circles in a moon dappled pool when a raindrop hits.
her hair, rich with the amber shade of rare liquor aged
in oak. exiguous sparkles, like tiny gems cut from
purloined stars, scattered in her waves by intrusive
ceiling lights & performing their own ethereal ballet.
her face remained hidden in shadow, from which
silvery smoke rings emerged at intervals, perpetrated
by her elegantly thin cigarette. & her legs, sleek & slimly
muscled, that have cantered across tropical beaches,
perhaps. & danced. let them dance upon my dreams.
as the bar was not crowded, I approached her easily, to
prove my assessment.
my calling card was quick & laced with noir that I relied
on: I hated drinking alone, & hoped the fire in her eyes
would make the night a little less black.
she looked at me with a worn gaze that held no fire, only
suspicion & fading glamour; glamour that was fostered
these days by an uptown Merle Norman. her mask was
less than demure in the accusing light.
the mistrust that draped her like dubious protection was in
stark contrast to the loneliness that led her to pick-up joints
like this. I concluded that her stunning legs were shaped by
years of running…..from one broken heart after another.
she would sit here sipping her cocktail & french kissing her
slim cigarette, imagining that one night her prince would
come. but there would be no prince in this den of diluted
booze & cheap sex, even in the kindest fairy tale.
I was no hero, I could not save her, & so I made my departure.
there were other bars, & more desirable targets.
at the exit, I glanced back, almost in sorrow.
she looked better from a distance…
(Art by Vladimir Volegov)
Published 21st Dec 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 22
reading list entries 3
comments 18
reads 1376
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
21st Dec 2014 3:38am
At least you made the approach. Proximity does make a difference. Depends on the woman, and the bar. Another fine poem noir.
21st Dec 2014 4:22am
John you always set a romantic scene.. with a poignant, powerful ending excellent with love and respect Crim
21st Dec 2014 5:44am
I concluded that her stunning legs were shaped by
years of running…..from one broken heart after another ...
This line is phenomenal!
Great story as always.
years of running…..from one broken heart after another ...
This line is phenomenal!
Great story as always.
21st Dec 2014 10:04am
This is yet another fantastic piece of work
Your observational skills are breathtaking
You really should write a novel
Your observational skills are breathtaking
You really should write a novel
21st Dec 2014 10:05am
"she looked at me with a worn gaze that held no fire, only
suspicion & fading glamour"
- Amazing pathos conveyed in these lines, stark, worn and used, despite the incredible physical beauty.
Great poem John. Like
suspicion & fading glamour"
- Amazing pathos conveyed in these lines, stark, worn and used, despite the incredible physical beauty.
Great poem John. Like
21st Dec 2014 11:41am
Your descriptive words of how you 'see' are amazing...compelling, beautiful and ultimately sad at the end...
21st Dec 2014 6:31pm
21st Dec 2014 8:03pm
22nd Dec 2014 6:22pm
a portrait so detailed, delicate n seductive u paint on one hand while spinning a hearty story behind her n him. Juz a stunning piece.. loved his decipherings n the subsequent departure n her pains n waits. Tq JF fr the share:)
22nd Dec 2014 10:41pm
23rd Dec 2014 5:20am
23rd Dec 2014 11:31am
it never ceases to amaze how you continue to outdo yourself with each write
another wonderful piece, Mister Feddeler
another wonderful piece, Mister Feddeler
23rd Dec 2014 3:33pm
I would trust your take on a bar pick up scene over anyone else's all the time :) Rejected or relieved?
23rd Dec 2014 8:55pm
Anonymous
26th Dec 2014 1:10am
Hi John.....always impressed by your expressive talent......enjoyed.....xo :)
27th Dec 2014 6:12pm
"a very poetic flaring, like
a blue balloon slowly inflated, or rippling concentric
circles in a moon dappled pool when a raindrop hits.
her hair, rich with the amber shade of rare liquor aged
in oak. exiguous sparkles, like tiny gems cut from
purloined stars, scattered in her waves by intrusive
ceiling lights & performing their own ethereal ballet."
Your poetic talent pounds the stars into fine glittering dust in which I can inhale. You inspire my deeply, John!
a blue balloon slowly inflated, or rippling concentric
circles in a moon dappled pool when a raindrop hits.
her hair, rich with the amber shade of rare liquor aged
in oak. exiguous sparkles, like tiny gems cut from
purloined stars, scattered in her waves by intrusive
ceiling lights & performing their own ethereal ballet."
Your poetic talent pounds the stars into fine glittering dust in which I can inhale. You inspire my deeply, John!
25th Jan 2015 6:08pm
