The widows tale
The widows tale
~
He sits down at the local bar
Same old table by the window
Overlooking the river passing by
A pint of the usual half drunk
Sat squarely on the beer mat
He looks around observing the room
Nodding towards familiar faces
Never sure of their names
The little routine he’s known
Reminiscent of so many nights past
There’s a look in his eye telling
Something’s not quite right
A missing companion, loyal friend
Is gone now lost, taken away
The one who shared the laughter
When the conversation filled itself
Who danced to the music with a smile
Now the music just plays out
Memories tainted with each new night
The routine of an old habit
Keeping hold so as not to let go
And slowly growing old
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Related quotes
What's The Use Of Getting Sober (When You're Gonna Get Drunk Again)
(words and music by Bubsy Meyers)
[DV = dark voice, SV = squeaky voice]
DV: Boy, you listen to your old Pappy
SV: Yeah, Pappy
DV: And stop drinking so much
SV: I'm-I'm ain't been doing so much drinking, Pappy
DV: Shut up, boy! You drink all day
and you drink all night
and you know, son, that that ain't right
SV: Oh Pappy, you just give me a chance. I, I can, I...
DV: Shut up, boy!
Boy, you're lookin' thin as a twig
SV: I know that...
DV: Look likes your dear old Pappy - about to blow your wig
SV: Oh I'm gonna blow my wig, Pappy
What's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Oh Sam done something fine
When he bought that good whiskey, beer and wine
I love my whiskey and I love my gin
Every time you see me I'm in my sin
So what's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
DV: I went out last night about half past one
Thought I'd whoop it up a little and have some fun
I got me a half pint about half past two
Mmm, mmm, the way I was feeling you know what I wanna do
Got me a pint about half past four
Felt so good, went out and got me some more
Got me a quart about half past five
Boy, that was so nice didn't know if I was dead or alive
So what's the use of getting sober
If you're gonna get drunk again
Oh Sam done something fine
When he bought that good whiskey, beer and wine
I love my whiskey and I love my gin
Every time you see me I'm in my sin
So what's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Well I've been thinking
But I keep drinking
I guess I'm 'bout lose my mind
(C) Leeds Music Ltd.
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The night we danced
The night we danced
~
It was in that little room
We dance concentric circles
Your laughter tickled my ear
Filled my heart with joy
Holding your hand in mine
The touch of your fingers
Our heads buried in shoulders
Your scent and warmth
I remember as though
We are still dancing
The way we slowly moved
Both trying not to fall
The look of your smile
That shine in your eye
You were so beautiful
The night we danced
Slow concentric circles
Without music we moved
In that little room
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Morning Greeting
good morning, my friend
hope you're fine like the smooth morning rays of the sun
on soft hands caressing the shiny brown skin of my face
did you sleep well last night? let me ask if you have dreams
that make waking up a regretful event
i am out now for my usual walk to see the usual rising of the sun
on the golden ricefields on the road leading to a group of nipa huts
i am asking myself today: is there meaning to this usualness
this routine that comes to us without any break?
is there something new to the sun that we always expect to shine?
is there a twist to the usual chirps of birds, the usual white color of their wings? is there something better to do than walk and think the usual
thoughts of how to make a living and be the fit person to survive
this war on boredome
this struggle for meaning
this monotonous routine of this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that
there is no stuttering here, nothing symptomatic of sickness
and even death, there is this boredom again that will make us
not sleep the nights
and make us uneasy and restless and asking some more
what is this life? what is it giving me?
what am i giving it? how long?
just asking, i am returning to the house from this short walk
there is no music in my ears
more questions popping
i will just take tea
i need really to pee.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lost Without Each Other
I ran into your best friend today
Twelve nights since you ran away
I asked about you and she said, can't say, can't say
I'm feeling lonely and it seems to stay
It's been a while since I felt that way
Well, I can tell you there's no room to play this game
All I know is what I'm missing
What I'm missing is your kissing
Are you listening
Don't go, don't go telling me you're alright
There's no room for getting uptight
Don't go saying that you're OK
When you're lonely
Baby, don't go telling me we're over
When you know you're my one and only lover
And I won't go saying that we're OK when we're
Lost without each other
'Cause we're lost without each other
'Cause we're lost without each other
I didn't mean to start the last big fight
You never should have hung up that night
All I want to do is make things right
Make it right
Listen, with all the choices that we chose to make
And all the promises we chose to break
We were busy making big mistakes, yesterday
All I know is what I'm missing
What I'm missing is your kissing
Are you listening
Don't go, don't go telling me you're alright
There's no room for getting uptight
Don't go saying that you're OK
When you're lonely
Baby don't go telling me we're over
When you know you're my one and only lover
And I won't go saying that we're OK when we're
Lost without
I can tell you one thing
We're not better on our own
I'm tired of running from my feelings
Are you listening
All I know is what I'm missing
What I'm missing is your kissing
Are you listening
Don't go, don't go telling me you're alright
There's no room for getting uptight
Don't go saying that you're OK
When you're lonely
Baby, don't go telling me we're over
When you know you're my one and only lover
And I won't go saying that we're OK when we're
Lost without each other
Lost without each other
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What's The Use Of Getting Sober
Dv = deep voice, sv = squeaky voice
Dv: boy, you listen to your old pappy
Sv: yeah, pappy
Dv: and stop drinking so much
Sv: i'm-i'm ain't been doing so much drinking, pappy
Dv: shut up, boy! you drink all day and you drink all night and you know, son, that that ain't right
Sv: oh pappy, you just give me a chance. i, i can, i . . .
Dv: shut up, boy! boy, you're lookin' thin as a twig
Sv: i know that . . .
Dv: look likes your dear old pappy - about to blow your wig
Sv: oh i'm gonna blow my wig, pappy
What's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Oh sam done something fine
When he bought that good whiskey, beer and wine
I love my whiskey and i love my gin
Every time you see me i'm in my sin
So what's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Dv:
I went out last night about half past one
Thought i'd whoop it up a little and have some fun
I got me a half pint about half past two
Mmm, mmm, the way i was feeling you know what i wanna do
Got me a pint about half past four
Felt so good, went out and got me some more
Got me a quart about half past five
Boy, that was so nice didn't know if i was dead or alive
So what's the use of getting sober if you're gonna get drunk again
Oh sam done something fine
When he bought that good whiskey, beer and wine
I love my whiskey and i love my gin
Every time you see me i'm in my sin
So what's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Well i've been thinking
But i keep drinking
I guess i'm 'bout lose my mind
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Juke Box Music
Theres a lady plays her favrite records
On the jukebox evry day.
All day long she plays the same old songs,
And she believes the things that they say.
Other ladies like to prance around
And flirt and dance the whole night through,
But she just sits and listens to here juke box records,
cause thats all that she wants to do.
She sings along with all the saddest songs,
And she believes the stories are real.
She lets the music dictate the way that she feels.
Its only juke box music,
Only juke box music.
Its only music,
Only juke box music,
Only juke box music.
Seems to me shes in a fantasy.
Shes livin in a world of her own.
And we all agree that shes a mystery,
Because shed rather be all alone.
Evry guy will do his best to try
To put that music out of her head.
Forget all the songs,
And just dance to the music instead.
Its only juke box music,
Only juke box music.
Its only music,
Only juke box music,
Only juke box music.
Its all because of that music
That were slowly driftin apart.
But its only there to dance to,
So you shouldnt take it to heart.
Music, only juke box music.
Only music, only juke box music.
(repeat)
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Music Of The Night
In the night the music plays,
I lay alone in the covers hidden from the dark,
I do not turn I do not look, I listen to the music play,
The horror of reality has left its’ mark,
On my soul, on my mind,
I am alone in the truth, in the past.
I know what they have seen, as others are blind,
I know the cast,
Of their play, of their lives,
Yet I still lay here scared, weak,
It is on my knowing that they thrive,
So I am left, weak.
The music plays over the sounds, all their goodbyes
I do not hear them, yet I feel them,
I see their faces, their eyes,
I know they hold onto life by it’s hem,
Trying not to let go, to hold to life,
They hold onto me, my mind,
I am their source of life,
And so I lay, waiting for sleep,
I lay with the nightlights in their small light,
Yet still the darkness is so deep,
For this is the same every day, I fall asleep, to the music of the night.
~This is the truth, this is how I live, this is my night.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Saturday Night Local
They congregate at the local pub
Each and every Saturday night
Break in routine from stressful week
Creatures of habit seeking respite
Logs are burning in the grate
Flickering orange flames in dance
Firelight reflecting on the hearth
Warm and cozy creating ambience
Local men propping up the bar
Discussing football escaping wives
Drowning sorrows from mundane life
Another pint through bleary eyes
Barmaids with their cheerful smiles
Filling up the empty glass
Engaging conversation with the punters
Who freely spend their brass
Tucked in corners lost in love
Couples share a fleeting glance
Sneak a kiss and passion ignites
Anticipating an evening of romance
Dreaded bell begins to ring
Landlord calling last orders please
Social gathering coming to an end
Glasses drained it's time to leave
poem by Lynne Howard
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Song From ‘The Princess’
As through the street at eve we went
(It might be half-past ten),
We fell out, my friend and I,
About the cube of x+y,
And made it up again.
And blessings on the falling out
Between two learned men,
Who fight on points which neither knows,
And make it up again!
For when we came where stands an inn
We visit now and then,
There above a pint of beer,
Oh there above a pint of beer,
We made it up again.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Local Hero
I was driving through my hometown
I was just kinda killin time
When I seen a face staring out of a black velvet painting
From the window of the five and dime
I couldnt quite recall the name
But the pose looked familiar to me
So I asked the salesgirl who was that man
Between the doberman and bruce lee?
She said just a local hero
Local hero she said with a smile
Yeah a local hero he used to live here for a while
I met a stranger dressed in black
At the train station
He said son your soul can be saved
Theres a beautiful women nights of low livin
And some dangerous money to be made
Theres a big town cross the whiskey line
And if we turn the right card up
They make us boss the devil pays off
And them folks that are real hard up
They get their local hero
Somebody with the right style
They get their local hero
Somebody with just the right smile
Well I learned my job I learned it well
Fit myself with religion and a story to tell
First they made me the king then they made me pope
Then they brought the rope
I woke to a gypsy girl sayin drink this
Well my hands had lost all sensation
These days Im feeling all right
cept I cant tell my courage from my desperation
From the tainted chalice
Well I drunk some heady wine
Tonight Im layin here
But theres something in my ear
Sayin theres a little town just beneath the floodline
Needs a local hero
Somebody with the right style
Lookin for a local hero
Someone with the right smile
Local hero local hero she said with a smile
Local hero he used to live here for a while
Lisa lowell, backing vocals
Patti scialfa, backing vocals
Soozie tyrell, backing vocals
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Emmy
Emmy's exquisite youth and her virginal air,
Eyes and teeth in the flash of a musical smile,
Come to me out of the past, and I see her there
As I saw her once for a while.
Emmy's laughter rings in my ears, as bright,
Fresh and sweet as the voice of a mountain brook,
And still I hear her telling us tales that night,
Out of Boccaccio's book.
There, in the midst of the villainous dancing-hall,
Leaning across the table, over the beer,
While the music maddened the whirling skirts of the ball,
As the midnight hour drew near,
There with the women, haggard, painted and old,
One fresh bud in a garland withered and stale,
She, with her innocent voice and her clear eyes, told
Tale after shameless tale.
And ever the witching smile, to her face beguiled,
Paused and broadened, and broke in a ripple of fun,
And the soul of a child looked out of the eyes of a child,
Or ever the tale was done.
O my child, who wronged you first, and began
First the dance of death that you dance so well?
Soul for soul: and I think the soul of a man
Shall answer for yours in hell.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Man Danced
Man danced
Woman faltered.
The room spun
Accordingly.
Ten past nine:
Night sky and
Music.
And Man danced,
Woman faltered.
Smile on a lip
And the Band,
Playing.
Nine past ten;
Man danced
Woman faltered.
But Man insisted:
Man and Woman
Danced.
poem by Stug Jordan
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In A Room Of So Many
In this room I am one with myself,
I sit alone, away from them, from the people,
I sit in the chair in the back, with only myself,
None notices me except the two people next to me.
They sit around me laughing with friends, playing their games,
They are all happy, all together, with one another,
But thats what it is to them, a game,
They don't need more people they don; t need another.
The girl on my right sits, lost, in her book,
Maybe she's there with the characters, in the past, or maybe the futrue,
She looks from word to word page to page within her book.
This is her pasttime, her fantsy, she is lost to know the books future.
To my left a boy sits facing the wall, music playing,
Both thumbs pressed against the small arrow keys,
POKeMON is what he sits and plays;
The small animals battleing growing, and looking for keys.
And here, in the middle of them of all the others, I sit alone,
At the tabble in my bubble of scilence, the aloness of being non-social,
In my green chair I write, alone.
If only I could talk to them, if only I were social.
So many people playing so many things,
UNO, rummy, conect four, cards and sharades,
These are only a few of the things,
Yet they don't notice me, my longing to know them, my own sharades.
This room is filled with every feeling, everything good,
So few differences, yet so many,
I feel apart from them, yet in a way watching feels good.,
Sitill I sit and I write, I am alone, I am one, in the room of so many.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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A Little Night Music
A little night music plays on
As I walk tonight
The stars are sublime
While many fly by in the sky before
they're gone
It's a night like any other
But tonight there's a little night music
I'm all alone
Yet while the music plays
I stand by a wall of this abandoned
building
And just become enchanted
The streets are still flooded with cars
The highways are still busy with trucks
Yet where I am
I'm happy where I am tonight
Whether I'm standing outside a building
Or just wanting to take in the night for the
sake of it
A little night music plays on tonight
And I feel like it's on my side
On this night
While having a smile on my face
poem by Justin Gildow
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Boy And Man
he played his music
he played it for fun
he played his music for everyone
as he plays no one every asks his name
no mother no father it drives him insane
as he plays his music no one askes his name
no parents in this orphant game
he plays his music for the people
lonely busker outside the cathedral
we all know the one with the steeple
they clap they smile he escapes for a while
drunk with the music confused by their smiles
as the sounds carry him away
he finds a place he wants to stay
for a time people listen
but in his mind theres still something missing
the solider the sailor tapping in time
the money they throw he spends on cheep wine
the father the son dont spend a dime
now they rush to get home on time
as you stand tapping in time
to his music for the deaf dumb and blind
so please ask his name just one time
this is a person who need to feel fine
dont you worry even god was blind
this is a person
poem by John Mc Cudden
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Music Man (The)
hey there mister music man
play your music like you did
last night when i saw you live
on fifth and amsterdam
hey there mister music man
spread your music 'cross the land
i'd follow you from here to there
just like you asked when i was there
but sadly i cant follow through
for my bestfriend is terminal
they say its name is Cancer
hey there mister music man
play your music spread your love,
like you did on 5th and amsterdam
would you come play for my friend
mister music man
play your music play every song you know
play them as you would for all
play them once for a thousand times
we'll put it on live tv
so the whole world can see
hey there mister music man
play your music
spread your love across the land
from here to there
make his last days worthy
as he falls into his dark sleep
hey there mister music man
play your music play your love
spread it far across the land
like the laughter of a baby
in a quiet room
like the laughter of a baby
in a quiet room
like the laughter of a baby
in a quiet room.
poem by David Thomas
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A Familiar Routine
Why have I stopped a familiar routine?
I began to notice,
How others became annoyed with it.
Believing I had nothing else to do,
But to offer them my assistance...
As if I had something to prove.
And after eliminating a familiar routine,
As a practice to be involved...
With a contribution of a doing of things,
I decided my own happiness would benefit...
From the more time I now give to it.
With a doing of that I have yet to regret.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Music
The neighbour sits in his window and plays the flute.
From my bed I can hear him,
And the round notes flutter and tap about the room,
And hit against each other,
Blurring to unexpected chords.
It is very beautiful,
With the little flute-notes all about me,
In the darkness.
In the daytime,
The neighbour eats bread and onions with one hand
And copies music with the other.
He is fat and has a bald head,
So I do not look at him,
But run quickly past his window.
There is always the sky to look at,
Or the water in the well!
But when night comes and he plays his flute,
I think of him as a young man,
With gold seals hanging from his watch,
And a blue coat with silver buttons.
As I lie in my bed
The flute-notes push against my ears and lips,
And I go to sleep, dreaming.
poem by Amy Lowell
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A Little Laughter
Laughter shows no disrespect
to the memories of those we've lost…
sadness is a fact that will remain
An absence creates a vast emptiness
when a love that was shared is severed…
laughter is a small way to ease the pain
Share a little laughter with a friend
even when shadows of sorrow
are laden in the clouds of rain
A little laughter sparingly shared
can bring warm rays of sunshine
breaking through… keeping us sane
Loved ones who have passed
would want us remember this…
In their memory... enjoy life again
9/3/2010
poem by Theresa Ann Moore
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Living For The Weekend
I awake eyes half open
Trying to survey the room
Making sense of where I am
A place I know too well
Through the curtains I watch
A half moon cross the sky
While car doors open, close
Engines start and drive away
A train passes into the distance
On the nearby line
I lay there waiting to rise
Shower, dress and catch the bus
Then sit there listen to music
While I stare out the window
Each street, people passing
Its another weekday morning
Another step in the old routine
I reach the office, hang my coat
Switching on the computer
I leave it bleeping into life
Before I make the first coffee of the day
Filtered black and strong, one sugar
Then I sit there sifting through papers
Doing my job nine to five
Till I go home and bed
I live for the weekend
poem by Matthew Holloway
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