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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Daily Cascade #1078520 added October 18, 2024 at 1:10pm
Restrictions: None
The Poet and the Bartender
Prompt:
Imagine being into a 1950's diner. What kind of person would find this setting comfortable? What does this person love to do? What kind of things does this person fear? What would be a dream come true scenario? Now take this information and write a short story based on what you determined in this setting. Nothing to elaborate, just have fun!
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The Poet and the Bartender
on stools worn, like his shoes,
he sits still under the dimmed light
listening to the hum, sipping the blues,
from the jukebox, the music of the night
for here is where all dreamers come
to this 1950's smoky bar, a haven for some
closed in a world unseen, with ghosts
of cigarette smoke, rising up like love
taking a toll in his life, but now, long-lost
and her words still hurt, yet a treasure trove
for they are the reasons all dreamers come
to this 1950's smoky bar, a haven for some
the bartender wipes the counter clean,
fully knowing where this poet’s been
and how the music echoes his soul
for in his heart, her words take their toll
for they are the reasons all dreamers come
to this 1950's smoky bar, a haven for some
the bartender hands a napkin to him
for the poet's scrawls, with ink smudging thin
so his thoughts from within he pours out to part
while Dean Martin sings "Always in my heart"
for it is the reason why all dreamers come
to this 1950's smoky bar, a haven for some
and he'll write, with every sip, wrapped in smoke
of cold city streets, the war, and being broke
or this poet will let something go, a bit too slow,
or he'll choke on words only bartenders know
for they are the reasons all dreamers come
to this 1950's smoky bar, a haven for some
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