“Marlene” (Part Two – Red Letter Day) We Write Poems Prompt 155 A red-letter day

Marlene had once dreamed she was Queen of the Clouds. Now she sat on a worn wooden stool in a sullen, sad bar, the murky shadows in her greasy gin glass reminding her somehow of whom she’d once been.

Still the music was fine, yet not long ago, it had been a robust and risque cavalcade, like fresh-laden waterfalls free to please all … now cacophonous misery seeped through the walls.

It seemed she had once been a girl in this bar, but in such a short time, fetid dreadsome attention, she felt rapid-aged, in soul’s light to lessen, or so it now seemed to Marlene. She had almost forgotten her dream.

In vague reverie she could almost thus dream as the gin worked its duty in loosening stream; another would benefit thoughts more serene, so she ordered another and surveyed the scene. Where there once, in this bar, had been burgeoning laughter, and ladies all colorful, flirting a’chatter, and boys in starched uniform, mustaches neat, had slipped into lotten charade, their once heady vision betrayed.

Where there once, on these streets, just outside of this bar, trudged the yellow-starred dirty in sickening gloom, marching dead, marching madness yet faithful in hope that some god of somewhere as written in lore would have mercy and charity forevermore.

And their letters once written in vain supplication to loved ones drip red in the gathering loom, slogged and forgotten in yesterday’s illness, this red-letter day, smothered in blood, awaits unfulfilled in the street and the mud.

Advertisements

19 responses to ““Marlene” (Part Two – Red Letter Day) We Write Poems Prompt 155 A red-letter day

  1. Lovely write. Prose ain’t bad sometimes.

  2. Curioser and curioser!

  3. like fresh-laden waterfalls free to please all …cool line that…quite emotive as you go along into what was…and now is…again very poetic pamela…

  4. Immediately reminded me of that old song, “Those were the days my friend, we’d thought they’d never end…” Really like how you are getting deep down inside Marlene and allowing us to see her reality. And again, your word imagery is fantastic, my friend,

    Elizabeth
    http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2013/05/09/old-frank-at-the-feed-store-remembers/

  5. Marlene has the benefit of memory, of separating past from present. I know some women my age (and older) who think they are still 23, you know, Pamelita?

    I,, too, was reminded of a song – Tom Waits’ “Rainbow Sleeves,” written for and sung by Rickie Lee Jones…”and now the whiskey gives you/ wings to carry/ each one of your dreams…”

    This carried on me like a velvet fabric. I could feel the weight of it. Very good, beba. Amelita

  6. I kept waiting for the good part. The red letter day unfilled….in the mud.

  7. Wow, you went literal with the “red-letter” day prompt. You picked up right where you left off from the last poem, seamlessly. You went in a good direction for this series — prose, as the form seems to contain Marlene’s story rather well.

    -Nicole

    • Thanks Nicole. Wasn’t I supposed to go literal? 😉

      • Thought I should clarify a bit more — I was referring to your last paragraph in which you say “this red-letter day, smothered in blood” — I don’t think when I had read your I’d seen anyone literally use the phrase in their poem.

  8. I’m enjoying Marlene’s story. A captivating tale.

  9. Where there once, on these streets, just outside of this bar, trudged the yellow-starred dirty in sickening gloom, marching dead, marching madness yet faithful in hope that some god of somewhere as written in lore would have mercy and charity forevermore.

I appreciate all comments.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s