There sits the bottle–a poem

Image result for photo of a whiskey bottle turned over


There sits the glass
that’ll make it disappear
There sits the glass
that’ll make it go away
There sits the glass
that will take my cares and fears
and turn these hours I’m living
into a totally different day.

There sits the bottle
that can go as deep as needed
There sits the bottle
that holds every numbing drop
There sits the bottle
into which I have retreated,
where the hands of the clock stand still
and the stories never stop.

There sits the sadness
that comes once the drinks have ended
There sits the sadness
when those who came have gone
There sits sadness
That will again need to be mended
and the thought of those next bottles
that will help carry it along.


This is for the men in our little group. I believe there are six of us now, and not all of the other five even know they’re in a group. But they are; each of us is in some way working some program of sobriety, not measured in current victories or setbacks; rather, based solely on a desire once spoken. Today is a great day for us to be sober, gentlemen. I know the vast requirement of each of your lives, and I know drinks will just rob you of the time required to hold down your fort. It’s only 24 hours; surely we can make it that long.


Love and warm thoughts, friends. Thanks for hanging with me through these changes in themes and forms. Please know that the goal never changes, that there is something valuable for you in every post; I hope you find it. God’s speed.


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