William Sinclair Manson

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My-Poetry / Writings · 3 June 2022

My Poetry. Gentlemen’s Club

The club was full as always
members flowing in
no one could be heard
above the rants and din.
A Club for the elite
of a certain required age
strictly men only
Bold in red on the members page.
Seats were old and stuffy
dust clouds whenever we sat
ornaments filled the main room
aside the resident Tom Cat.
The bar built in the twenties
with prices of present day
but the men who attended here
had the money to pay.
The club was built in 1890
the decor had never changed
smoking had played its part
all twisted and deranged.
Some Guys as old as ninety
attended the club each week
and at the dinner table
they had a chance to speak.
Jokes were always branded about
chuckles were heard now and again
it was a way of keeping in touch
for the old trustworthy men.
The barmaids scantily dressed
and the old men looked in awe
obviously a treat for them
excited at what they saw.
The club closed at ten thirty
several had to be chased
it was another night at the club
of excited hearts that raced.
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