More Poetry by Robert R. Woods

December 31, 2012

Well, thought I would sit down today and write a poem about New Year's Eve. I think I've written one every year since 2005 or so... Not maybe the best poem. It will probably need to be revised. But I feel obligated to write something for the occasion. I do think I'm getting better at writing fast and with a bit more poetic accuracy. Anyway, here it is. Happy New Year to everyone:

New Year’s Eve (H.P.N.Y.)

It is morning. A new year percolates

inside my coffee cup, a spoon taps

the edges of its mouth as I stir

the cream into the darkness

that Folgers has conjured up.

The sugar has made the second sip

a bit less bitter than the sip before.

There's a soggy, grey world out there,

outside the smoke stained windows

of my small but somewhat comfortable room.

I can smell the wet, dry rot of winter,

the wood burning fire from next door

and a thick sent of peppermint from

the Christmas stocking she gave me

right before she walked out the door.

I may go out tonight, wiggle into

a freshly pressed pair of jeans,

loose fitting T, brush my teeth and hair.
Grab the camera, my winter coat and

gloves, the stocking cap I bought

last month in NYC. Don’t forget

clean socks and underwear and

that thick, black scarf she bought

me right before she left.

To that little bar just down the street

I’ll go. I’ll drink iced tea and maybe

sneak a cigarette or two while I watch

the girls in short black dresses

and to high a heel shoes stagger ‘round

from boy to man to boy searching

for that special one who looks like

Brad Pitt and smells like rum and violets.
I’ll watch them pick the one they’ll kiss

when midnight strikes and this year

finally goes its way and another just like

the last appears as festive songs

and drunken cheers greets it

like I greeted her when first we met.

Or perhaps I’ll just stay home.

I’ll watch TV alone.

A movie maybe, or music or

maybe I’ll write some poetry

and post it where my friends can see

how pitiful a man I have become

since she has gone away.

—rrw 12-31-12