Through the Groggery Door

The blue-grey bearded neophyte poet without formal training

Fancied himself a true autodidact-now so rare in this era of T.V.

His laptop and moleskin notebooks on his back,

Some cash in his pocket, ready to meet a new brew

And be charmed by a muse or two.

 

The imposing man standing guard at the groggery door

Had a castellated physiognomy with biceps like turrets

And a back like the battlements of a medieval fortress

Standing in defense of the foreboding entry to the

Dungeon-like hole-in-the wall nestled into a hill below Main Street.

 

Is this where the neophyte poet would compose

His sweet sonnets of amative structure and melodious words?

The smooth, rounded river rock floor beneath his feet brought a

Sense of comfortable restlessness to his work-a-day soul,

As he looked for a comfortable spot to land.

 

The old yellow pine wood on the chair back creaked

As he took a seat in the candlelit semi-darkness,

The worn polymorphous fibers melting into his shoulder blades,

Eyes and ears momentarily drawn to the opposing corner

Where several young men sat engaged in vigorous argy-bargy.

 

Young men seemingly caught up in arguments of epic proportion

Points being made ever more pointedly as the mountain brews were consumed

Like modern day philosophes bouncing from politics to the universe’s origins,

Wielding spoken words like swords cutting through

Cosmology, Ayn Randian philosophy, and all the world’s religions.

 

As the neophyte poet breathed the beer-soaked air

Fresh words and ideas floated towards him with new found celerity,

Something about this groggery lifted his groggy labor-tired thoughts

To rising levels of equanimity with a eulogy-like encomium

As old ways were buried–grave marker still wanting.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, 02/19/2016 

This is the seventh in a series of poems in as many weeks written using 7 consecutive www.dictionary.com words-of-the-day. I italicized the 7 words this week within the poem so readers could readily identify them.  The groggery in this poem is reminiscent of a place we like to visit in Western NC and that immediately took its place in sweet memory after our first visit.  Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed! J

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