
After the Time Bell Rings
After the time bell rings
and the barmen start stacking the chairs
Guitar George packs his old guitar
in his old guitar case
and Honky Tonk Harry
closes the lid of that pub piano
and together, still in sync
they leave to catch the last bus home
to their adjacent council flats
where their wives await
in front of the television
with pots of tea
and plates of chocolate digestive biscuits
and later still in sync
they both reach for that last chocolate digestive biscuit
one eye on their gently snoring wives
before retiring to bed
and dreams of New Orleans
and the muddy Mississippi River.
Apologies to Mark Knopfler for using two of his characters from one of the greatest guitar songs of all time….The Sultans Of Swing,
Taking part in OpenLInk over at dverse.
Love the repetition in this one….and the sounds you create with your words: the sibilant in “start stacking the chairs”…..the pub piano….the wives await. And most especially, the repetition of “in sync” . The specific details add to the atmosphere of the poem as well. So glad you posted to dVerse tonight. AND, I enjoyed the video!
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Thank you Lilian for your comments, much appreciated! JIM
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Might as well borrow from the best…(K)
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Yes indeed!!
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Very well done, Jim. I love the way the story progresses in your poem. We all work hard every day, but still have our dreams.
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Thanks Dwight! Much appreciated!
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You are welcome.
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Tales told just right, my friend. Happy Thursday.
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Thanks Lisa!
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You’re welcome, JIM.
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Nice one, Jim! Your poem reminded me of the ‘sessions’ we used to have in the pubs when I lived in Ireland all those years ago. There was always someone with a guitar, a fiddle or a bodhran, and others prepared to sing right up until the barman called “Time, gentleman, please”. I love the Britishness of the ‘adjacent council flats’ and the ‘last chocolate digestive biscuit’ contrasting with the ‘dreams of New Orleans and the muddy Mississippi River’.
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Thanks KIm…..there’s nothing like a good session!
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You’re most welcome Jim.
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Yeah, those guys are still sultaning my lost nights, still playing where I tried to go home. Amen and pass the digestive biscuits …
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I love a good “lock-in”
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