Bombay Bar Blues
On a balmy evening
with full stomachs
as we sauntered down
an empty Ventura street
we heard…the slow sexy licks
of the blues.
The dark window of a
blues music dive
and a yellow lab lying at the doorstep
beckoned…
Stepping over the bluesy dog
I glanced left…
A burly guitarist nodded me in.
No “bumblebee” will work here.
What code word dare I use
to entice my man in…
“Rusty nail, perhaps?”
He grabbed my hand, as we did a 180…
We stepped over that blonde bluesy hound
to enter a dark narrow cavern of…
old bar-gents sitting
at a classic narrow tiled bar
gazing at their drinks,
waiting on seasoned bar-flies
to fill the lonely seats next to them.
Five grey-bearded guys in faded blue jeans,
jammed into a front-window stage
rocked and riffed their bluesy sound.
Bar fly danced and swayed
while old guys waited their turn.
While sharing our “rusty nail” occasion,
taking in the sexy music bar scene…
a warm feeling filled my soul
as my man leaned near
and whispered with a grin,
“There’s a hefty poem in here”!
Carol Ferri was born in San Francisco, California, the City by the Bay. She still feels the salty and foggy air in her soul. She taught elementary education for 32 years and loved teaching the art of writing to her 5th and 6th grade students. The awe in their eyes when they discovered they could indeed be creative poetry writers, remains with her to this day. She currently lives in the rural Uvas Valley, in Morgan Hill, California, where she enjoys hiking, cooking, reading, playing the piano, riding pillion on her husband’s Triumph, and writing poetry.
On a balmy evening
with full stomachs
as we sauntered down
an empty Ventura street
we heard…the slow sexy licks
of the blues.
The dark window of a
blues music dive
and a yellow lab lying at the doorstep
beckoned…
Stepping over the bluesy dog
I glanced left…
A burly guitarist nodded me in.
No “bumblebee” will work here.
What code word dare I use
to entice my man in…
“Rusty nail, perhaps?”
He grabbed my hand, as we did a 180…
We stepped over that blonde bluesy hound
to enter a dark narrow cavern of…
old bar-gents sitting
at a classic narrow tiled bar
gazing at their drinks,
waiting on seasoned bar-flies
to fill the lonely seats next to them.
Five grey-bearded guys in faded blue jeans,
jammed into a front-window stage
rocked and riffed their bluesy sound.
Bar fly danced and swayed
while old guys waited their turn.
While sharing our “rusty nail” occasion,
taking in the sexy music bar scene…
a warm feeling filled my soul
as my man leaned near
and whispered with a grin,
“There’s a hefty poem in here”!
Carol Ferri was born in San Francisco, California, the City by the Bay. She still feels the salty and foggy air in her soul. She taught elementary education for 32 years and loved teaching the art of writing to her 5th and 6th grade students. The awe in their eyes when they discovered they could indeed be creative poetry writers, remains with her to this day. She currently lives in the rural Uvas Valley, in Morgan Hill, California, where she enjoys hiking, cooking, reading, playing the piano, riding pillion on her husband’s Triumph, and writing poetry.