Reflections on a Noisy Bar

Hello. I have uncovered a thing that I wrote almost a year ago. I had completely forgotten about it and thought I'd share it with you so you could do the same. It goes thusly:

Reflections on a Noisy Bar

Raucous voices

Sweet enjoyment

Out on the town with all the boys and

A selection of girls

Drinks are downed

Colours swirl

Cosmic highlights of mother-of-pearl

The crack of glass leads to angry voices

Blood drips down your shirt of choice but

It’s alright

That bloke’s a wanker

Let’s you and me go to the bank and

Buy a subway or KFC

No, you’re alright, mate

Your food’s on me

Let’s go back and watch the telly

We’ll just  enjoy some Stephen Fry

You know what, mate?

I fucking love you guys

Let’s do this again some time.

One hopes you're well,
yrs,
ADWoodward

Two Lions, One Perplexed, One Unconcerned

Hello. Terribly sorry I've not posted in a while; laziness / the fickle nature of inspiration and all that. I have written a thing which I'd like to share with you. It goes thusly:

Two Lions, One Perplexed, One Unconcerned

There, standing, lit in joy, he spied her face,

Free and unconcerned, stalking through the grass;

Laughing eyes and wicked grin flew and struck

Like stolen kiss and caused a grievous wound.

She spies him spying ‘cross the way and skips

Into that booming, bass-soaked Calydon.

His haunting huntress, playful prey, had gone,

But not so far as to be lost from sight –

Or rather, not lost until she decides,

Giggling in a hollow, to hide from him.

Now it is him who’s lost. Hope and fear both

Together beat his heart with prophecies,

Wanting and hating their revelation.

Then, darting from her den with battle-cry

His sunburst-girded lioness inflicts

With honeyed fangs another wondrous wound.

Paws come up to softly ward and embrace

And seek a place in shining, joy-gilt locks

To touch with nerve-ecstatic fingertips

But too slow one set, too fast the other

With mirthful glee away the she-cat flits

Quick through the vodka-dripping undergrowth

And leaves the male perplexed to stroke his mane

With sadly empty, clawless, tawny paws.

One hopes you're well,
Yrs,
ADWoodward