THE BARMAN

You stare at your reflection, on the polished walnut bar, but the sad eyes gazing back can't tell them who you are

So you nod towards the barman and flick your empty glass, and resigned to getting drunk you rest your trainers on the brass.

Nicotine stained fingers scratch the stubble on your chin, five days growth of beard hides the pain within,You growl "make it a double", as the Barman walks on past, as you reach into your pocket you know this will be your last.

"Looks like you need this" says the barman with a smile "like to talk it over, i'll sit here with you a while", So you talk about the weather, and the local football team but you're heart just isn't in this, no matter how polite you seem

You start to make excuses as you finish off your "Grouse", but the barman pours another and says " this one's on the house", You're starting to get angry with all this mundane 'gab' and you're tired hands are shaking, as you light up one more tab.

The irritation passes as you draw the smoke in deep, but the taste of the "Virginia" can't make up for lack of sleep, Then you realise he's watching that you've drifted, drifted off again and once more the panic rises, and the thought you might be insane.

These 'black spots' seem more frequent since the tablets all ran out, and sometimes the merest whisper thunders through like a shout, but the barman's smiling friendly and you know you need not fret cos this guy has a look, like he knows that you are a VET

" I've seen you're sort in here before" is his very next remark " you Army lads always walk in here as it's becoming dark" " You crawl into a bottle to forget all you're hates", " and you drown out all your memories, of the men you once called mates".

" So come on lad just tell us, I've heard the tales before", " of the Falklands and Northern Ireland, tell me what it was you saw"? So you babble out your story, of Bosnia and the wooden Church floor, you explain every detail as you fall through into the sespit of bodies, the smell ,their faces, the looks of horror, and what stays with you, then you hang your head and sigh, BECAUSE YOU KNOW YOU HAVE PROBLEMS, WHEN THE BARMAN STARTS TO CRY.

IAN WOOLLEY  59COMMANDO,R.E.

MILITARY MEDAL, QUEENS GALLANTRY MEDAL, GULF WAR MEDAL

Hi Ian,

Wow!  This is incredibly written...........I will say no more, but I share the barman's tears.

Hugs to you,  Jill

Hello Ian

I share Jills thoughts. I will copy and pass it to friends outside AdLandPro.

Happy Holidays
Georgios

Hi Jill

Thank you for your kind comments about the poem, this is actually a true story of something that happened to me, which I suffer nightmares over,and have communication problems outside my house, I thought I would put on here just to point to other people, that soldiers and all forces do suffer problems, I know you understand because of your son, you should copy this and send it to him.

from a good friend

Ian x 

Hello Georgios

Thank you for taking the time to read my poem, which is of a true event that happened to me in while serving in Bosnia, as I told Jill I have close to 1,000 poems because I had problems talking to specialists and Doctors, my release was writing.

I wish you Happy Holidays

Ian