Below is the poem entitled The Rock Den which was written by poet
Simunsen. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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I enter the dimly lit room, ribbons of smoke waft towards the ceiling.
Finding a nice quiet corner table I slide into it.
Swirling my neat bourbon, I watch as the swirling ice noisily clunks the edge of my glass.
I then quickly bring it up to my mouth for a sip
I look through the hazy surrounds and spy a sprinkling of people, not many which brings a frown to my unshaven face.
A touch of disappointment as I have heard so much about this rock den and even more about tonight’s band.
I hear murmurs of conversation but nothing loud enough to decipher. A woman’s laugh turns my head in the direction of the bar. Too dim to really make anybody out so I turn my gaze to the small stage area. I make out a drum kit and guitars leaning against speakers. Not much else.
I look soulfully into my glass and think of my day.
A spotlight comes on; the band is now assembling on stage.
The drummer starts with a rhythmic tap of the hi hat, soft and brassy.
The rest of the band crowds around each other as instruments are slung over shoulders. The deep strum of bass is next keeping time with the steady drumming.
The bass player steps forward, looking down at the gathering of people through his dark glasses. Fingers working the strings.
The rhythm guitarist follows forming the melody of the tune. The trio blending beautifully before the lead guitarist starts his riffs.
Then the lead guitarist steps up to the microphone, his gruff voice carries around the room.
Beads of sweat form across his forehead as the stage lights bite, as he sings to the swelling crowd.
I look around and smile, this is more like what the band deserves.
The guitarist swings away from the microphone taking the lead break. His face contorts with concentration. Fingers forming along frets as the other hand picks quickly at the metal strings.
The drummer moving in quick time with the solo guitarist, drumsticks a blur.
You barely notice the bass and rhythm holding tune in the background.
The crowd moves and sways in time with the music. A trio of young girls looking barely eighteen dance around the front of the stage. Drinks being held out front of many without a sip being taken, all in awe of the performance.
My head nodding in time along with the rest.
The lead guitarist builds his performance, fingers pushing at strings as he uses the guitars tremolo.
The drummer swings along the pieces of his drum kit rapidly, smashing and crashing all in time.
The band cascading into a crescendo. The solo seems to last an eternity as the crowd is totally enthralled by this musical feast.
I sit caught up in the brilliance; I needed to see firsthand what everybody has been talking about.
A band that deserves to be beyond the small walls surrounding them now. I reach for my wallet and pull out a business card pushing it into my top pocket.
When the performance ends we will shake hands and chat over a drink about bigger stages and a louder future. For now I sit back and enjoy the show.