Heart Of The Matter
On Borrowed Bar Stools
Thursday night,
Is poets night,
They gather there,
The little theatre bar,
Plays host to their offerings,
The patrons wait,
In little Bohemia,
They perch,
On borrowed barstools,
Amidst the drone,
There is muffled conversation,
And someone's
Mobile phone,
The poets gather,
One takes the stage,
The patrons hush,
Curiosity,
Confusion,
Being the order for today,
He speaks with conviction,
His voice,
Clear and loud,
But his words … have no meaning,
For those in the crowd,
His masterpiece over,
He fell on deaf ears,
And I pitied the poet,
Who had practiced for years,
No standing ovation,
At least, not today,
“Don't give up the day job”,
I heard one patron say…
Linda Harnett, ©2007
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On Borrowed Bar Stools
On Borrowed Bar Stools