Poetry Friday Number 33

Poetry Friday 33.

The juggernaut rumbles on. Three poems this week, all a little odd but meaningful in their own way. As ever with my poems, they are works in progress so any comments or suggestions are welcome.

For audio clickhere.

Cup Game

Drawn against the minnows;

risky for a mid-table team.

You want the glory, but

better a loss than a draw.

Get it over and done;

wham bam, no extra time,

no replays,

no being dragged back to their place

on a cold wet Wednesday in January.

A one-off encounter

that ends with the final whistle.

Restaurant Alone

Secondhand cigarette smoke

and memories for company.

A couple copulate with their eyes

waiting for the bill,

so they can disappear and

consummate

that that has already been

consummated.

Others bicker or stare at their screens

waiting for text relief

as Valentine’s Day accentuates

the negatives.

Musak drowns my thoughts,

whiskey drowns my doubts,

but my sorrows remain stubbornly

buoyant.

Headache

Closer she moves

so our clothes touch.

Her smell invades me

persuades me

to reach out

with my little finger and

touch her hand.

She slaps me

so hard that

I fall back and

crack my head

on the wall.

But my headache

is not caused by the impact

but by the sexual

harassment allegations.

Hope you enjoyed 33, some strange old poems there I think, 

Tune in next week for poetry Friday 34. Have a good weekend.