Lewis Raynes Poet Quatrain

The Old War Vet In the Pub

This fire warms me, every bit of my soul,
Down at my regular local.
Sitting alone, all the thoughts in my head,
To ponder before they're made vocal.

And the menu for the night on the old chalk board,
Hot pasta, soup, oysters or a steak.
They even have treats for after the meal,
A meringue, ice cream or cheese cake.

Soft music wafts throughout the whole place,
Past pokies, dim lights, and horse races.
And of course, as the place fills with people from work,
It fills with the regular faces.

I sit in this seat, same time every day,
Just an old war vet of a male.
It's here i feel safe, my family of friends,
Sitting quietly just drinking my ale.

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Janis Medders Tobechi October 25, 2016 at 1:51 AM I like this. Very well written. Of what war are you a veteran? Lewis Raynes October 25, 2016 at 2:23 AM Thank u so much Janis, although I m very fortunate to have never been in any war. My poetry comes from my heart and my observations, ur comment means so much as u r showing me my insights r hitting the right marks. I thank u for ur comment as it verifies I'm on the right track. Cheers

David Smith August 13, 2016 at 5:44 AM Simple but effective. We all need a safe place to go. Good from David in NZ

John Lawless August 12, 2016 at 10:15 AM Would that all the veterans could find such a place, and such a feeling. Nicely written Lewis, thanks for the visual it brought to my mind.

Probir Gupta August 12, 2016 at 5:49 AM What an enviable comfort ... A painter would have a lovely sketch from what you say ...