Poetry Drawer: Sleepy Whale Poems by Terry Brinkman

Sleepy Whale 370

I stumble in to the Royal
My stool between dark woman and fair man
Ghost-woman drink a beer from a coffee can
Unreluctance mobility loyal
Steaks on to broil
Fair man’s name is Dan
Fishing tomorrows plan
He puts in hid beer fish oil
Half mad deathless God
Making friends without half trying
Moon mid-watchers awed
Gloaming gray sky
Alabaster silence Izadi
The dark woman is shy

Sleepy Whale 372

She only bikes to Bluebird
Organic Vegan food and beer
Everyone wearing biking gear
Radio music’s Blackbird
Alabaster Peanuts absurd
Radio’s too loud so all can hear
We’re saving the Earth and Deer
Save all I herd
Ghost Candle lights
Neologisms scrutinize way
Sun flung flint glass daylight
Emmy and Tess Hopscotch play
No sun’s solar-power making light
Now snowing, where my sled

Sleepy Whale 373

She hitch to the Bear Pit Bar
Don’t drink the Morning-Glory
Bar-Maids from the Dormitory
Suzie Gruff playing her guitar
She’s like a poor tuned car
Unshed tears sky, like an observatory
Too much beer to tell a story
See the shooting Star
Smelling Geysers through a crack in the door
Lost Yellowstone in glass
Deck drinking on the second floor
July’s Christmas
Hiking days, now I’m sore
Were at the bottom of the Hourglass

Sleepy Whale 374

Flying star ship to Dragonfly
Where’s everyone’s Jetson’s shirt
Maladroit silk skirt
Atonic fast Barfly
Ship to the moon glorify
AREA 51, lost in the desert
UFO’s alert
Mars-Woman’s lullaby
Catalectic tetrameter North-Star
Mid-watcher moon, Rocket
She’s playing atomic guitar
Singing for Spacey Sprockets
Her bars bizarre
She put a Sprocket in my pocket

Sleepy Whale 375

It’s snowing I run to Way Side Inn
Snows falling Christmas Eve
Ghost Woman in the corner weaves
Butt of cigar, Ashes on her Chin
Rich silk stockings Feminine
It’s Christmas, hard to believe
Unshed tears, Crucified shirt’s sleeve
Ashland’s forty year Gin
Where’s the horse slay?
Hearth sitting Sabastian’s glow
In the light he’s Gloaming gray
Snow falling, wind’s starting to blow
Ghost woman begin to sway
She’s wanting under the Mistletoe

Sleepy Whale 376

I woke up in a bar named Sue
Sitting next to fair lady and dark man
Drinking Fat-Tire a condensed milk can
I roll over for a brew
Pot smoking in the corners new
Ghost woman’s sitting next to Ann
Alabaster silk stocks wearing Ann’s plan
West Wealthy the Well-To-Do
Bluebird Oyster Soup
Life from Outhouse Booze
A game with a mini Basket-ball hoop
Outcast woman came back to snooze
She almost flew the Coop
Closing time she sings the Blues

Sleepy Whale 377

We like drinking in Ogden, a Bar on Wall
Old Farmer dropping money in the Jut-box
Ghost woman’s alabaster skin and red hair Lox
I grab a stool next to Paul
He high talks on Jazz Basket-ball
Green St. Patty’s foaming Ale paradox
Crash?! Snot Green Mustang taking-out the mailbox
She screams Last Call
Ghost woman’s nobbling her beer
Wall hanging my eagle Art
Deathless Gods atmosphere
She talks like she’s so smart
Jut-box won’t stop so we can hear
She turned out the lights, now time to depart

Sleepy Whale 378

Octoberfest for a month, Snowbird
Waning for Beer at Barfly
The tram fly’s the blue sky
The Mug size not absurd
Eating dropped pop-corn, Black-Birds
Don’t let the birds drop in your eye
She is she, and I am I
She’s princes Lady-Bird
Blowing the foam off, Foaming Ale
Smoking butt of an old Cigar
Sabastian’s alabaster black tail
Only standing seats in the Bar
Wearing her shocking Electric blue dress
She began playing her guitar

Sleepy Whale 379

Doing a Jig to be at Piper Downs
As I traverse the maze to my seat
Slide past a Ghost woman
In green silk
Drinking a foaming ale in candle light
Dark woman and fair man
Hiding in the corner dancing
Man with sea cold eyes
Smoking gun powder cigarettes
Brief gestures to sit
Human shell bar maid
Poker playing
Farmer’s won’t
Sat down

Sleepy Whale 380

Won’t find a key they’re always, open
Bar Maid Butt of cigar ashes always on her breath
Black Forest Clock-mocking twelve times
Fashionable charming, Cotton-ball Barons
Wearing rich silk alabaster stockings
Such is life Outhouse sewage breath
Weasel rats basement, swimming

Terry Brinkman has been painting for over forty five years. He started creating poems. He has five Amazon E- Books, also poems in Rue Scribe, Tiny Seed, Jute Milieu Lit and Utah Life Magazine, Snapdragon Journal, Poets Choice, In Parentheses, Adelaide Magazine, UN/Tethered Anthology and the Writing Disorder.

Read more of Terry’s work here on Ink Pantry.

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