bar poem

Somedays Vodka Sounds Better Than You

I drink vodka in this bar

That’s what I drink in here

Sometimes it’s gin,

Sometimes rum

But never in here

This place calls for vodka,

And this bar rarely calls

But when she does,

It’s good to start with a vodka tonic

From there the world is my oyster

Vodka martinis finish me off too fast,

So they’re better left for the bad days

Those days when things need to get done,

And I don’t belong in here,

On days like that…

Excuse me,


Make me a vodka martini”

“One of those days, huh?”

Something like that…

Something like that.

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

She Looks Good From Here

She looks good from here
She has on a nice sundress
Her legs are a calling bronze,
And she has the most beautiful hair
I’m a sucker for the hair
It’s always what seems to do me in
This Thursday afternoon,
Is no different from any other,
Save for this beautiful lady,
And a break from the heat
I want to ask her name
I’d like to spend the rest of the afternoon and my money with her
But after a little consideration,
I surmise my chances lie in that hated grey area,
Of not what I was hoping for
I’m drinking rum
She’s downing wine
I can’t imagine,
We wouldn’t be a good fit,
For each other
But then my conscience grabs me by the balls,
And I know to fight is useless
So the next time she looks my way,
I offer only a slight smile
A smile she returns as well
And that made it all worth while
Mental note to self,
Smile at strangers once in a while
You just never know who’s day you might make
© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Nothing Better

I have nothing better to do,

Than sit here all day

Just waste this day,

Like so many before,

And the so very many,

Which will follow

I have nothing better to do

My glass is empty,

And now I wait on the girl,

Behind the bar

I’m held captive,

And need to find a filler

I pilfer glances,

At the two girls sitting,

Next to me

They’re deep in conversation,

And have no way,

Of knowing any better

I compare the two girls’ thighs

I wrestle with which one,

Would be better in bed,

Which one would look better naked

But then,

In an instant,

My drink has been refilled,

And I’m back to doing,

What I came here to do

This is a pretty good life,

Good if you can keep up with it,

And don’t weaken

I’m ok with that

I can work within these rules,

Laws and parameters

And besides,

I have the time

I have lots of it,

And as I finish my drink,

I smile at the boredom,

And at the two girls’ thighs

It’s all good,

I have nothing better to do

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

To All Men And Those Days

All men battle,

A forge against the strife,

The agony,

And the perpetual madness

When the lights go out,

What’s left?

Just sunken thoughts,

Of the days gone by

All the fleeting memories,

Of what was,

What could have been

All men lose sleep,

Over the feelings,

Of loss and nothingness

The blackness and voids,

Which fill the tiny spaces,

Which are hidden,

From plain sight,

In a barren and empty attempt,

To convince all,

Of how perfect all the world is

So, to all men,

Spit back at it all,

Growl, roar,

And never fear being heard

For we are all of these days

The days when the sun refuses to rise,

The snows pack the exits,

And the mind lies in ruins,

Like a forgotten headstone

Stand and call it to attention,

Be brave,

And put these days to rest,

Put them behind

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Hold To Grace

You hold to grace,

Like a bull in a china shop

You teeter from side to side,

Like a rudderless ship

If you told me you were dancing,

I’d have to believe you

There’s a certain art to you,

A style soaked in you

This can’t be duplicated,

Can’t be imitated

But somehow,

You manage to pull it off

And I know the walk home,

Will be interesting,

And filled with hundreds of extra,

And dizzying side steps,

And circles

Got to smile

You have it all worked out,

Down to a science,

And perfected,

And done so without shame,

Or care,

Or regret

Like a small child,

I guess you just don’t know,

Any better,

Any other way

© Dicky J Loweman 2015


A Pause To This Life

As I sit here,

I think about everything,

And nothing,

All at once

The heat of the day,

Has zapped my thoughts,

And any words I might have considered using

I keep fixating on the old clock

With its old neon tubes,

And it’s deafening hum

I watch the second-hand tick

Tick, tick, tick, tick

I feel as though,

I have been in this same spot for years

And I feel as though,

I might stay here for several more years

Not moving,

Just watching

Tick, tick, tick, tick

This is how I’m spending life,

Right now

In an old bar,

Which is held empty,

By the early hour,

And the sun’s stifling heat

Tick, tick, tick, tick

The bartender’s slow reach,

To the bottle on the back bar,

Looks to me,

Like a speeding train

Tick, tick, tick, tick

Then suddenly, I’m back

Back just in time

To catch his sudden movement,

And watch the glass being set,

In front of me

Like a plane landing at night

In the swirl of jet fumes,

And heat,

And that old neon clock

Tick, tick, tick, tick

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

Thirty Paces From The Bar Door

‘There aren’t any potluck lunches down here’

That’s all the sign read

The sad old sign,

With the yellowed and weathered scotch tape,

taped to the humming lamppost

A bit odd, huh?, is all that came to mind

Some people have more time on their hands,

Than I do

Then I smiled,

And kept on walking

Never once turning around,

Never giving a care, again

And why would I?

I had a place to be,

Because that old lamppost was only,

Thirty paces from the bar door

© Dicky J Loweman 2015


You got it, kid,

And that’s a good thing

Not like the time you were throwing glasses at my walls,

But more like the times in the bars

You’ve got spunk,

Got the good line on life,

Got the moxie

And 90 out of 100 times,

Well that’s 90%

And that’s pretty good in my book

Keep it up, buddy

We all like your 90%

The world needs more of it,

And usually they’ll be willing to pay for it

God knows I will

© Dicky J Loweman 2015