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Laced With Cobwebs
by Ken HarnischGray and bespectacled,
She reached for
A glass of Comfort
And stared at the men around her
In bewilderment.
There was a time
Men would have bought her
Drinks before she sat down
At the bar and her wallet
Would have been
Laced with cobwebs,
Having no need to be opened
Now it’s only me,
She mused,
Trying to keep the self pity
Out of the equation
But knowing, every now
And then, we’re all
Entitled to a soaking good cry.
She lifted one glass
And confronted
Her image in the other;
Saw more lines and creases
Than were really there;
Felt more age
Than really lay upon her shoulders.
But her heart was a cinder
And her memories as
Fresh as fire. In such combination
A woman grows old fast
And dies too young.
Intellectually, she grasped the dichotomy
But the lady in the mirror
Watched her drink
And all in all
Was most depressed
That it was her own money
In the wet spot on the bar.
02/16/2012 Posted on 02/16/2012
Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 02/16/12 at 02:04 PM You've done her a great justice here Ken. Nice write! |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 02/16/12 at 04:40 PM Interesting perspective here, Ken. No one's ever bought be a drink. Ever. Heh. I don't know if I hate that or like it because of this poem. I think I might like it because of the inner monolog I don't have to deal with. You've painted a clear scene with your words, though, and it was a pleasure to read! |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/16/12 at 05:17 PM I've never bar hopped, but the aging process is brutal, the being ignored a most unpleasant surprise - you paint it so well here in this particular venue. |
| Posted by Jody Pratt on 02/16/12 at 06:46 PM I do enjoy when an author can so gracefully place themselves in another persons heels. |
| Posted by Kris Mara on 02/18/12 at 12:57 AM haunting...and too real...we know her from your words...and our own souls...nice work...glad I got to read you tonight... |
| Posted by Linda Fuller on 02/21/12 at 11:44 PM There once was a woman who entered a bar four days after she turned twenty-one and was bought seven screwdrivers. She went home with the bartender. Your penultimate stanza knocks me out. |
| Posted by Vivienne Grant on 02/23/12 at 03:04 PM ahhh . . . another word-movie for me to enjoy ~ I admire the ease with which you create these scenes Ken ~ and the clever (although that word, to me, smacks of contrivance) double entendres ~ thank you |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 02/24/12 at 10:37 PM it's like you were her for these moments |
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