1 (edited by Peatle Jville 2019-10-05 22:12:15)

Topic: Black Bog Juice

I havent thought much about music or poetry for a while. Had other things taking up my time. I haven’t dropped into chordie for a while as  I haven’t  had much to share with you on this good site  Here is a poem written in my unconventional way. I hope it works. Stories shape our understanding of ourselves and our world.There is a universality and importance of story ,poetry and song in all cultures. I guess that is why some of us try to write poetry and songs. Sometimes I look back on my old stuff and think what was I thinking and man that didn’t stand the test of time. This is a sort of none rhyming poem about a group of guys I meet most Sunday afternoon’s for a beer and chat. In a comic rush of blood to his head, one of these guys decided to read out loud some old poems off mine off his smartphone it was so bad it made me want to vanish from sight. I laugh now  at my feeling of self-consciousness, shame and awkwardness in that moment which is unusual for me as  normally I feel confident in myself.  I started writing this Sunday night about that awkward moment when I got home  and decided to finish it of now as it is a wet Tuesday evening  outside here.

                   Black Bog Juice.
Differant shades of liquid brown at a pub table.
The white lines around the inside of each pint glass receding throth no longer at high tide.
Young waiting staff smiling while flitting around with trays of drink and food.
Us old men sitting on high stools  enjoying life.
Friendily bar tenders many in their prime just out of high school.
Young fast guns ready to sell  another fresh  glass of drink  or some food.
We good old Kiwi blokes sitting at a high table near the pokie room..
We shun the romantic lower to the floor style of table and chairs mostly used by families and lovers.
Floating past us air filled with the the hum of voices from other parts of the bar.
Rugby and some other sports on the television screens around the walls with sound turned of.
Teletext turned on in place of sound
Some  patrons mourning a loss other celebrating a win of their team.
This our regular Sunday school is our little parliament of the people
Chatter turns to reminiscing about old cowboy heros on tv and in the movies.
The music of Howlin Wolf just audible now coming out of the sound system causing my foot to tap.
Men might not be able to multi task but we  sure can multi listen
Minds in unison on one subject at a time each voice presenting differant ideas,and outlooks.
Changing into another gear our thoughts move to things written by bards, story  tellers,verse makers, music composers.
The oral historian in the group glances at words on his modern smart device
Looking at his machine with strained eyes, he starts reading the black bog juice that is  my poetry.
The words that he is  trudging through making no sense, just a raincloud hanging over me.
A past sin returned to haunt me.
A seed of an old ideas sown into the  topsoil on my head.
Those  temporary weeds that once flourished.
Not the beautiful flowers I was hoping for.
Over amber nector.
Those little goldern nuggets retrieved from the past.
No longer sparkle like diamonds.
All that remains is bits of rusted words.
A narrative born out of experience.
No longer relevant just a past attempt at romanticism.
Once where  there was a surge of excitement is unfertile soil.
Originally those words were meant  to  paint a picture that reflected the truth of my life and put some  light on what I wanted everyone to see.
Words that came from when I was struggling to say something rather  than struggling to be noticed.
Now I feel like a beaten  chess player who thought he had the game won..
Hearing my words from another time coming from the other side of the table makes me miss a  good move.
Bang out of the blue he hits with a checkmate I can’t escape.
Obvious as daylight in the shadow of this bar we hear with  pain  my old written words.
Our bar room narrator making them no longer  of any relevance to me.

Re: Black Bog Juice

I can't imagine any of your stuff being irrelevant or cringeworthy this proves it. I for one recognise this whole situation, barstool preaching, grown men winding up each other while imbibing in wobbly pops, as cap 54 used to say! As usual you've taken a moment a scene if you will, described it in such a way that I could see each character smell the old beer and soak in the atmosphere. The line regarding the tide marks as the beer "evaporates" pure joy to an old lagerlout. Love it and tell your mate to speak it slowly. Cheers     

Ask not what Chordie can do for you, but what you can do for Chordie.

Re: Black Bog Juice

exactly what Phill said...

time changes many things including perspectives and meanings.... doesn't mean that they didn't have value ---- then or now.

keep it coming - it's all good stuff.


Your vision is not limited by what your eye can see, but what your mind can imagine.
Make your life count, and the world will be a better place because you tried.

"Use the talents you possess, for the woods would be very silent if no birds sang except only the the best." - Henry Van Dyke

Re: Black Bog Juice

Yep, I agree. I like being able to paint the mental picture.  However you  write, if it is from your heart, it will always be relevant.


“Find your own sound.  Dont be a second rateYngwie Malmsteen be a first rate you”

– George Lynch 2013 (Dokken, Lynchmob, KXM, Tooth & Nail etc....)

5 (edited by Peatle Jville 2019-10-02 08:22:37)

Re: Black Bog Juice

Cheers Phill, getting a bit of stick is all part of the  path over a pint or two with mates. It would be great to have a bevy with you. I am pleased my words resonate I am never sure if Kiwi situations travel well. You are right pace is important when reading poetry or stories. I struggle with getting that right when I read aloud.

Jim,  you are right time changes many things including perspectives and meanings.... doesn't mean that they didn't have value ---- then or now. I appreciate your wise encouragement.

Beamer,  cheers I love reading your words on chordie, they paint pictures that cut to the heart of things. I appreciate your encouragement.

Writing in all forms can be a difficult Journey.Sometimes it can be something magical.
Doesn’t matter if it is good or bad it is a good way to make an experience or thought have a space. I love the way people on chordie are not disinterested observers but are players in the game of self expression. Some people outside of what we do, who are not keen to have a go at what we do can become dismissive of what we do. I love writting  differant ideas down while inhabiting them with my head. It started in my childhood this love and passion for myth and folklore plus life stories.  I find the power and rhythm of a person with a distinctive voice who can read poetry and story magical. Sometimes those that dont have that skill have a way of destroying what would sound good done by someone else. Hopefully I have managed to magnify a moment without making it seem more than what it was. I was writing more about a brief moment where my mind was making a mountain out of a mole hill. My poem was more about my sensitivity rather then about the person reading my words who lacked an ability to put a rhythm and pace into my words that worked. After I got passed my annoyance I laughed at myself.  A while back I saw  Willie Nelson being interviewed and the reporter asked him what is it like hearing your song come on your radio. He said  something along the lines of, “if I hear my song come on the radio I will turn the radio off. Now that doesnt mean I dont like making music I love making music it just means I just don’t like hearing myself on the radio.” I got what Willie was saying it made sense.  For me It is a bit like that also , I dont always enjoy listening to or reading my stuff but it doesnt mean I don’t enjoy doing it. Sometimes there is a right  time and place for everything. Unfortunately that bloke reading my stuff wasn’t at the right time or place and it really got on my nerves. Sorry Im ranting better stop here.  I really appreciate the feedback on here it means alot to me.
Thank you

Re: Black Bog Juice

I understand your feelings and Mr Nelson's. I went through a period of recording my stage set but at home not live. I gave a copy to someone that showed an interest and they played it there and then. I told them to take it off half way through the first song, which was rhinestone cowboy, it sounded awful to me and all I could hear were the flat notes and cock ups! Which is why I only rarely post my songs on YouTube.
Having spent a whole day traveling to Australia same coming home twice I don't think I could survive the flight to New Zealand. So when are you coming to Wales? Your beer is getting warm my friend.....     

Ask not what Chordie can do for you, but what you can do for Chordie.

7 (edited by Peatle Jville 2019-10-03 05:15:12)

Re: Black Bog Juice

Iechyd da Phill if I ever make it back to your part of the world I will definitely have a beer at your local with you. 
Here is a Willie Nelson quote I like “There are more old drunks than there are old doctors.”
kia ora ( good health to you)
Your friend Pete