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Tuesday, 29 October 2013

Just Another Friday Night

By Marc Leavitt of Marc Leavitt's Blog

The regulars retell stale jokes, their lame
Attempt to chase away the purple funk
That makes each Friday night seem just the same.
They laugh, and watch each other getting drunk.

The weekend’s burdens wait, a dull regime,
Tomorrow’s chores and Sunday’s stifled grace
Loom grey and tattered, like a formless dream
That fades from memory and leaves no trace.

Frustrations tear the drinkers to the core,
Each one trying harder to downplay
The crushing loneliness they can’t ignore,
While pushing their own neediness away.

The jukebox keeps repeating the same song;
They hardly notice as they sing along.

[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Please read instructions for submitting.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post


Marc, love your work, so true.
We are alone in the midst of our companions.

Marc: Every time I read your pieces I'm amazed at how you've been able to look at life, remembering the past as well as now. You have a wonderful way of describing your findings. This piece so beautifully describes how at times we have looked at life in such a vapid way.
God Bless you!

What a great description of many of the pubs I've drank in over the years.

How strange your name is Leavitt,which is a variation of my wife's maiden name Levitt, her forbears came from Suffolk until the early 1800s when one moved to County Durham to become a miner and thats the way it stay'd until her father died.

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