Low misty cloud swirls damp close to the ground
Ancient parlour pubs lined the terraced street,
Slurred speech from beer costing only a pound
And smoke from cigarettes hangs around their feet;
Drinkers in rough clothing prop up dark bars.
And those who indulge in this ludicrous sport
Live in abodes in streets with modest cars,
Reflect silently in a glass of port.
But from whom are these drinkers trying to hide
Before staggering home to a nagging wife.
In their poverty they only have their pride,
Thus sums up their story of a sad life.
These dark lives lived in pubs spread far and wide
Are but chapters lived that life cannot hide.
nice sonnet...Dark lives-drinkers trying to hide wonderful
I feel I'm there with such a good word painting. Life in the pub so well drawn. Thanks for sharing BB : O)
A great picture David, I can't breathe because of the smoke. Well done
A real truth, though a sad one. The choices one makes in their lives are always important.
As someone who has spent far too much time in pubs I can relate to this splendid poem. Spot on though as it can be a waste of a decent life but it is something that is part of the British way of life.A good insight!
A subject that few would attempt, you did. Try mine - Idle Folly - Adeline
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great sonnet David - well written. Expresses pub life brilliantly.