Coach Roth Poems

The ex-Marine walked
into Coach’s bar…
260 pounds…
most of it still muscle…
...

***A bedtime story for Frank James Ryan Jr. who has encouraged my writings, and inspired by the Forum discussions of what type of poetry is best and who should be allowed to judge.***

The Rider
...

Patsy seemed content
to sit in the doorway
or on the deck...but
still was wary of coming
...

Felix came into Coach’s bar…
Barely 5’6” maybe mid-sixties
Scrawny and mousy…
with his beer
...

Coach took a job bartending
at a tavern on Sunset Boulevard…
All the regulars were in…
Little Donny Quinn, Frank the Greek,
...

I'm not dead yet,

my hands still feel...
...

Four young girls
in a car...
windows down...
cellphones to each ear.
...

(Part 4)

My Maria
...

My birthday is only a day...

it has no meaning...no love...no spirit...
...

Bosco came into the bar nightly…
Latino, good looking, strong…
He owned a chain of restaurants
in the Los Angeles area…
...