Ladybird, Ladybird (Poetry)
15th April 2019
He went into a dingy bar
and there upon a stool
a woman sat all dressed in black
her stare remote and cool
“Hello” he murmured to the keep
“the usual, if you please”
and shivered at a morbid thought
that grew from his unease
He swallowed down the fiery drink
the keep refilled his glass
the woman’s sigh denied approach
he let the moment pass
The atmosphere was thickened by
a creeping sense of dread
that sucked imagination — got
inside his boozy head
At last he turned to her and said
“Hey Lady, what’s the deal?”
He flinched as she swung round and let
her ruined face reveal
its agony — the reason why
she sat there all alone
His “Sorry” filled the space between
she said “I would go home
but it’s too late to save my kids
my home burned to the ground
I come here simply to escape —
the only place I’ve found
where I can sit and numb my guilt
while wine makes me forget
that awful night ...” her lips went white
she lit a cigarette
“Forgive me pouring out my woes
you’ve trouble of your own
I’m headed for the door that leads
into the twilight zone”
She stumbled off her high chrome stool
she staggered — almost fell
she grabbed her red coat from the hook
and mumbled her farewell
He followed her into the street
but found nobody there
no footsteps echoed down the block
she’d vanished in thin air
He went back in and asked the keep
“What did you make of her?”
The keep was counting up the cash
he closed the register
and while he wiped the bar top down
he pondered on the scene
as though he couldn’t quite decide
just what it might all mean
At last the barkeep answered with
some theory he’d long-nursed
from years of observation how
some folk were simply cursed
And Ladybird’s a case in point —
that nursery rhyme’s to blame
there’s no escape — the die is cast
the end’s always the same
The warning comes a drink too late
he’d seen it all before
the bottle dulls the guilt awhile
the sorry heart’s less sore
The old ghosts come to sit and brood
they haunt us with their plight
until it’s closing time when they
head off into the night
The customer, he took the hint
he was the last to go
out the door, just slightly drunk
he staggered to and fro
The cold air cleared his muzzy head
he heard the jangling bell
the engine passed, he smelled the smoke
and then he ran like hell
and there upon a stool
a woman sat all dressed in black
her stare remote and cool
“Hello” he murmured to the keep
“the usual, if you please”
and shivered at a morbid thought
that grew from his unease
He swallowed down the fiery drink
the keep refilled his glass
the woman’s sigh denied approach
he let the moment pass
The atmosphere was thickened by
a creeping sense of dread
that sucked imagination — got
inside his boozy head
At last he turned to her and said
“Hey Lady, what’s the deal?”
He flinched as she swung round and let
her ruined face reveal
its agony — the reason why
she sat there all alone
His “Sorry” filled the space between
she said “I would go home
but it’s too late to save my kids
my home burned to the ground
I come here simply to escape —
the only place I’ve found
where I can sit and numb my guilt
while wine makes me forget
that awful night ...” her lips went white
she lit a cigarette
“Forgive me pouring out my woes
you’ve trouble of your own
I’m headed for the door that leads
into the twilight zone”
She stumbled off her high chrome stool
she staggered — almost fell
she grabbed her red coat from the hook
and mumbled her farewell
He followed her into the street
but found nobody there
no footsteps echoed down the block
she’d vanished in thin air
He went back in and asked the keep
“What did you make of her?”
The keep was counting up the cash
he closed the register
and while he wiped the bar top down
he pondered on the scene
as though he couldn’t quite decide
just what it might all mean
At last the barkeep answered with
some theory he’d long-nursed
from years of observation how
some folk were simply cursed
And Ladybird’s a case in point —
that nursery rhyme’s to blame
there’s no escape — the die is cast
the end’s always the same
The warning comes a drink too late
he’d seen it all before
the bottle dulls the guilt awhile
the sorry heart’s less sore
The old ghosts come to sit and brood
they haunt us with their plight
until it’s closing time when they
head off into the night
The customer, he took the hint
he was the last to go
out the door, just slightly drunk
he staggered to and fro
The cold air cleared his muzzy head
he heard the jangling bell
the engine passed, he smelled the smoke
and then he ran like hell