life grows thinner
with the thinning of my hair
I’m as unenthusiastic
as elastic on old underwear
socks that won’t stay up
pills that won’t go down
is there any decent reason
I should really hang around
except to watch the sun
till that lovely moment when
it goes over the yardarm
I can have a drink again

[first posted Apr 4, 2015]

in the deepest dark

in the deepest dark of the abysmal night
when there is nothing
no hope of insight
but the rejection of all gods
and the rejection by all gods
one finds a special kind of light
amber glory ready to annoint
I usually drink my whiskey at this point

bar talk #3

the guy next to me at the bar
is going to talk any minute

I didn’t come here to talk
I didn’t come here to drink

I came here to belong

when he talks – I leave


In wine and verse I bargain with the night,
though wine is once again the favoured option.
The thoughts of men in print now rarely charm,
and tend to bring less sleep than irritation.
As for love, she may as well have been
a dream that I once dreamed in former days.
The pleasures of the flesh and of the heart
by lumps and bumps and groans have been outweighed,
Tonight as stars grow dimmer one by one,
no bright new suns have blazed into my view,
and as for those I marvelled at in youth,
old passions these, I do not now pursue.
From two consuming spheres I seldom stray,
dull circles that I trace to end each day,
sad orbits that bring neither peace nor light,
in wine and verse I bargain with the night.

[Note: The opening and closing lines clearly echo Robert Frost’s “Acquainted with the Night”. This is the second time this has happened. I’ll let it stand as homage to a poem that got itself into my bones. EB]

Do drop in

My door is always open
– do drop in,
unless of course it’s closed
then don’t be bothering.

Don’t knock, don’t enter
please just stay away.
I’m the only one I’m seeing today.

It’s not that I don’t value
it’s just that I’m the one
that gets on best with me,
unless we have a row,
in which case help!
I need the whisky bottle
off the shelf – and then
I’ll be the one for partying.

My door is always open
– do drop in.

ready to order

I won’t have a starter
I don’t eat dessert
I shan’t have a mains
I hurt hurt hurt
I can’t take rejection
but I can take a hint
just bring another bottle
and a wafer thin mint


I see nothing but an old black door
and a hungry tramp
nothing more
now like some bar-room bore
I come back with leftovers
of a time before there ever was the drink

oh lay a blanket on the floor
and make an offering
take comfort in this refuge
of the damned
or any place you can
just like a tramp with leftovers