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Bar Poems
by Terry Brinkman




Royal Bar


I stumble in to the Royal

My stool between dark woman and fair man

Ghost-woman drink a beer from a coffee can

Unreluctance mobility loyal

Steaks on to broil

Fair man’s name is Dan

Fishing tomorrows plan

He puts in his beer fish oil

Half mad deathless Gods

Making friends without half trying

Moon mid-watchers awed

Gloaming gray sky

Alabaster silence Izadi

The dark woman is so shy



a line, (a short blue one)


Bear Pit


I hiked from the top floor of Old Faithful Inn

Signature drink is the Morning-Glory

Employees are hear from the Dormitory

Gruff Squire alone playing his guitar

He sound like a poor tuned truck

Clear glass and sky, much like an observatory

Not enough beer to tell a story

Look now a shooting Star

You can smell Old Faithful through the door

Scenic Yellowstone in glass

Kids hanging from the decks on the second floor

In July Christmas

Hiking all day, now I’m sore

Time went fast were at the bottom of the Hourglass



a line, (a short blue one)




 I peddled my bike to Bluebird

Organic food and beer

Everyone in biking gear

Tuesday’s live music from Blackbird

Organic Peanuts too absurd

Blackbird’s music to loud to hear

Saving the Earth and Deer

Save like the rest of the herd

L.E.D. candle lights

The West Wealthy way

Flint glass to maximize daylight

No power Hopscotch play

Solar-power making dim light

Now snowing I need my sled



a line, (a short blue one)




Star ship to Dragonfly

Everyone’s wearing a Jetson’s “T” shirt

Maladroit silk skirt

Sonic fast Barfly

Moon landing we glorify

AREA 51 in the desert

UFO were all alert

Mars-Woman sings a lullaby

Catalectic tetrameter star

Moon Mid-Watcher’s Rocket

He plays an atomic guitar

Works with George at Spacely Sprockets

For bars this is bizarre

I left with a Sprocket in my pocket



a line, (a short blue one)


Way Side Inn


I slide into the Way Side Inn

Past the Green worn wood door

Snow was falling Christmas Eve

In the corner a Ghost woman dream weaves

Sewage breath and Ashes on her Chin

Jockeyed old Bar-maid too Feminine

It’s Christmas you must believe

Coat hook tears my Crucified shirt’s sleeve

Drinking Black-Forest Wild Geese Gin

Smell of Logs almost burnt glow

Dark woman and fair man in the Gazebo

Closing time

Old drunks begin to sway

She gets a kiss under the Mistletoe




a line, (a blue one)


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