Three Lost Souls of a Tourist Town

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Gender Male
Points 1040
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I sit at a bar
on the South-side of town
and the bartender
in a black military cap
sets a cold glass of Yuengling
on the counter in front of me.

I drink away the passing hours,
and burn countless cigarettes
while silently watching
the crowd of fresh faces
rolling in and out of the bar.

In the wee morning hours,
as the bar empties out,
the bartender asks
what brought me
to the beach.

He says people are
ephemeral like the sea,
like the high and low tide:
those running
from something
and those running
to something
and asks
which one am I?

I chug my beer,
slam the empty glass
on the counter
and order a shot of bourbon.

I am like a tidal wave
crashing against the sand,
I tell him.
For I am here
to revel in the chaos.
"On rare occasions he showed flashes of stagnant intelligence. But his brain was so rotted with drink and dissolute living that whenever he put it to work it behaved like an old engine that had gone haywire from being dipped in lard."
---Hunter S. Thompson, The Rum Diary




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Gender Female
Points 8363
Reviews 182
I find this poem very interesting. I like the way it is written, actually, and the subject is intriguing to me as well. I like the imagery, but maybe you could be a little more detailed and make the images more vivid. But as a whole, this poem is wonderful.


I sit at a bar
on the South-side of town,
and the bartender
in a black military cap
sets a cold glass of Yuengling
on the counter in front of me. This got me interested

I drink away the passing hours,
burning countless cigarettes
while silently watching
the crowd of fresh faces
rolling in and out of the bar. Good imagery

In the wee morning hours,
as the bar empties out,
the bartender asks
what brought me
to the beach.

He says people are
ephemeral like the sea,
like the high and low tide:
those running
from something
and those running
to something,
and asks
which one I am. sounds a bit better this way

I chug my beer,
slam the empty glass
on the counter,
and order a shot of bourbon.

'I am like a tidal wave
crashing against the sand,'
since you are talking
I tell him.
'For I am here
to revel in the chaos.'



Just a few nitpicks. Great work!
"If you ever have a problem don't say 'Hey God I have a big problem.' Rather 'Hey Problem... I have a big God and it's all going to be okay."




User avatar
Gender None specified
Points 2564
Reviews 129
This poem i really interesting. There is soem fantastic imagery here. All the descriptions about the bar and the atmospher perfectly encpsulate and distill the mood of this atmoshere.

The flow and structure over all is pretty good, however can get a bit clunky in parts, becauce the poem is crammed with a lot of detail.

In conclusion, very good.
I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, Sir, because I'm not myself you see.

Alice in Wonderland




User avatar
Gender Male
Points 7386
Reviews 159
I sit at a bar
on the South-side of town
and the bartender
in a black military cap
sets a cold glass of Yuengling
on the counter in front of me.
I drink away the passing hours,
and burn countless cigarettes
while silently watching
the crowd of fresh faces
rolling in and out of the bar.
In the wee morning hours,
as the bar empties out,
the bartender asks
what brought me
to the beach.
He says people are
ephemeral like the sea,
like the high and low tide:
those running
from something
and those running
to something
and asks
which one am I?
I chug my beer,
slam the empty glass
on the counter
and order a shot of bourbon.
I am like a tidal wave
crashing against the sand,
I tell him.
For I am here
to revel in the chaos.


Pogue, this reads to me instantly like prose. Not strictly “prose”, but the narration follows little direction in poetic imagery, tense, line break, etc. Rather, this is centrally derived from a single speaker's narration as if they were a character.

The closest you get to poetic elements in the poem can be seen in “he says people are ephemeral like the sea, like the high and low tide...” and while the rest of the poem technically follows this lead slightly, it further predicates itself on narration and narration than image to image. You tell us everything. Your similes are the only elements of this monologue in description that stray from telling.

Do not attempt to re-craft this poem from the embers, instead, learn from seeing what “telling” is exactly: stating the obvious sensory and placement details, that there is a speaker, etc. SHOW US SOMETHING, like the people being like the tide. That is poetic.

That said, I like your control here though I wonder if this rises from your writing reading like prose. Otherwise readjust your goal and focus in writing this, ask yourself what makes a poem a poem and how is this done by others.



You, who have all the passion for life that I have not? You, who can love and hate with a violence impossible to me? Why you are as elemental as fire and wind and wild things...
— Gone With the Wind