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Best Drink Poems

Below are the all-time best Drink poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of drink poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Drink Poem | |

She Hulk

When I was a child I only ever wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys
and when I foot raced them at recess I won every time.
They called me ‘She Hulk’ because of my muscular frame
and from the way I only ever wore soccer t-shirts and sweat pants.
After that nickname was implanted into my brain like a growing weed,
I’ve only ever wanted to be feminine.
I started wearing skirts and dresses 
and in middle school they shrieked at the site of my makeup and done up hair.
But that weed inside of my mind only grew, and grew, and grew
until I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part anorexic and two parts lonely,
because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail.
No one ever realizes how greatly words affect us,
how a simple nickname can turn a pretty girl into a skeleton.
I stood at five foot two weighing seventy nine pounds,
so cold and frozen,
yet I still considered myself a ‘She Hulk.’
You could see my ribcage through my t-shirt
and my spinal cord protruded loudly through my weathered skin,
as if somehow my bones were dirty knives
just trying to cut through the flesh of judgment.
As I grew older I became the girl that was never enough.
Not good enough to speak poetry.
Not good enough to lay paint on a canvas.
Not good enough.
Not tall enough.
Not big enough boobs for them.
Not primped to perfection.
Not undeniably straight.
Not smart enough.
Not dumb enough.
Not ditsy enough.
Not cool enough or fun enough.
And I began to believe, too, that I wasn’t enough.
I never told my mother that I had been in madly in love with a girl.
I never told anyone about the night we first kissed 
because I was too vulnerable for the judgment.
And parents always justify saying that ‘kids will be kids’
But when we are kids our brains are still growing
and the smallest of seeds that get planted will one day bloom
into one giant regret,
will one day affect the choices that we make,
will one day influence us about the clothes that we wear,
will one day shape us into the person who we thought we would never be.
I only ever wanted to be strong,
and as a child I thought strength was only about being able
to lift a bar stool above your head.
I thought that strength was only about being able
to beat the boys in bare foot running races.
I was told that strength was something only
a man could have.
But as I’ve grown older I’ve realized that strength
isn’t about muscle at all,
but it’s about weakness,
and the ability to overcome the social anxiousness.
It’s about carrying around a lifetime of baggage
on your broken back
because the ones that kicked you when you were down
are going to be the ones that were  ultimately wrong.
I thought that the definition of woman 
began with the word disappointment.
And I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part freedom
and two parts Sailor Jerry
because every girl needs a stiff drink once and awhile.
We are not disappointments.
We will never be the ones who gave up on hope.
We will never be the ones who gave up on each other,
or god,
or our mothers.
We will always be enough;
enough for the ones who shunned us 
enough for the ones that cursed us
enough for the ones the hurt us
and destroyed us
and beat us when we were covered in bruises.
But you see, bruises fade
and the scars of our flesh are only stories
things we have overcame
and there are things out there that we will overcome.
When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong.
I hid my vulnerability.
I hid the parts of me that were true.
I never told my mother about my girlfriend
because I was afraid she wouldn’t understand,
kind of like all those people who never understood 
just how much words effect us. 
I can’t say that I can beat the boys at foot races anymore,
because, well, I smoke cigarettes now.
And I can’t say that the nickname of my childhood didn’t affect me.
But I take that name now and embrace it.
Because I am strong.
I am the ‘she hulk’.
I am a mixed drink cocktail
with three parts greatful.

Details | Drink Poem | |

Champagne Toast

*Drunken Master *


***
sweet lavender lips
I heard it through the grapevine
transform from sweet grapes

sweet lavender lips
I heard it through the grapevine
libation of wine

sweet lavender lips
I heard it through the grapevine
intoxicating -----X----- beverage 
***


by;pd 
4th place
CHEERS!!!

Details | Drink Poem | |

Tattoo of a Broken Heart

It’s raining in the corner
Stripes upon the floor
Bloody knife in a barroom door
Drinking whiskey
From a hollowed out gourd
Full of wasps
That rage in my core
Old man Mason
Got a smile upon his face
He knows the fire
And now I got a taste
Can’t stand up
Can’t lie down
Spinning room 
Going round and round
Lipstick so red and thick
Devils eyes are on my hip
Right hand of the devil
Is a handgun son
I’m shooting dice
I’m shooting everyone
Woke up in a Philippine jail
I’ll sail for Hong Kong
Once I make my bail
They’ll never find me
The only evidence to tell 
Is a tattoo of a broken heart
And a rusty nail

Details | Drink Poem | |

Meeting The Soupers

"Your first poem was an 
excellent poem....you are 
welcome...." Commented 
skat on my first poem.
"Wonderful and deep 
poem....you are welcome 
to poetry soup..." That 
was Poet Destroyer.
"Wow you have touched 
my heart in a special way 
with your poem.....your 
new friend Leonora 
Galinta" said Galinta.
"Well penned" said 
kithinji and so many 
special poets.
Hearty words from these 
unique poets spurred me 
to write better poems.
Which they appreciate.
Poetry soup is safe haven 
where feelings and 
emotions are expressed 
in tangible forms.
An educational enclave 
where different forms of 
knowledge are 
exchanged like two 
hands washing eachother.
Am most humbled to 
meet these dazzling 
gems radiating warmth 
like the sun-a privilege it 
is connect to parts of the 
planet.
I believe we all will meet 
someday,not in the after 
life.
Leonora Galinta is an 
angel to meet,whom I 
admire amongst others.
Love to set my eyes on 
her delicate and graceful 
nature. See her graceful 
carriage, feel her gentle 
hands and smiles as she 
exudes sweetness. I pray 
hand of time will 
backwards when that 
day appears as we walk 
in the woods leading to 
silent deep blue sea with 
gentle breeze 
whispering...... A prolific 
writer as well.
PD will I meet 
someday,love her 
amiable nature,full of 
grace and charm. A 
prolific poetess.
Skat is lovely with her 
immeasurable words of 
encouragement.
Kithinji will I love to 
behold,to learn from him.
Have drink with Robin,
Alian, shake akinyemi, 
stroll with Joe, hv a hike 
with
Sibanda, dine with Ralph 
and you.
Saying hi and hugs to 
Paz Samelo.
Meeting the soupers is 
making a happy family.
   Am gliding like the 
eagle,soaring higher as 
the day pass by.          
you soupers are my 
strength.








Name:Ifeanyi Bob 
Ekechukwu.
(Baron Of Ebullion)

Details | Drink Poem | |

Sitting In My Deck Chair

The pale face of nature, of flowers and treetops
Has been lost without color, behind frost in the meadow
Under snow on the fence post, and the ice on the willow

So tattered and bobbing, and weary of hiding
So weary of biding her time in the fog
Tired of the doldrums, tired of the ho-hums ,  and weary of crying...

The pale face of nature, of gardens in springtime
Will drink in this morning, to find it surprising!
A lekker arrival !!
Of sunkissed horizons
Is blissfully welcomed with gold in the morning
All smitten with cheer !

Trees lean to the side
Drunk on the sun
Lifting their branches
And keeping it near

I long for it too
As I move out my chair
From under the shade
To drink in the sun
After dark winter days
To welcome it here

A lekker arrival
Is speckled in sunshine
I find it to be fine, to bask on my deck!
I'll poke out my neck to soak in the bliss
And what could be better than this?   Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!


________________________________________________________
For Suzette's Contest: "LEKKER"


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Details | Drink Poem | |

She O'the Morrow

Woman of Sorrow                                     She o'the Morrow


Drink to her whose sorrow                       Nay... I'll drink to her on the morrow...
Has aroused a poet's sigh;		         She who'd set my thoughts a'fly...
A woman who brought tomorrow             She from whom I'd borrowed...
What treasure can never buy.                  Treazure grand from silken thigh...
Her words are penned with sadness        Her words o'pen o'gladness...
And often an empty tone;                         Feelings oft thought as madness...
Along with all those feelings                     Full cool crost river's stone...
In a sea of tears from feeling alone.         A'drift in sea o'tear... o'smile felt hers alone.

Here's to her whose sorrow                     Here's to she of morrow...
Has made many a poet cry;                      Whose gift I so shall try...
Her words are read with tears	                 Her words thus through the years...
That rain like love from the sky.                Shall be as rain o'love from sky.
Now the sea will drink her tears               Aye! I'll toast then on that morrow...
With those we try to hide;                        Gone thus her fog o'sorrow...               
Here's to her whose sorrow                     As joy displaces fear...
Flows free from deep down inside.           When then our sea doth drink her tear...
                                                                 Mine as well fast by her side...
Elizabeth Wesley                                      Winds of pleazure set high our tide...                   
                                                                 So shall I my glass lift high...
                                                                 To she that sails on winds o'pride.


                                                                                    SeaWolf


Details | Drink Poem | |

Raspberry Drink and Cherry Kisses

i'm sorrow-----------------if you're sad
i'm joy---------------------if you're happy
i'm smiles-----------------if you laugh
i'm tears------------------ if you cry
i'm rest------------------- if you sleep
i'm a path-----------------if you walk
i'm remorse------------- -if you regret
i'm a shadow------------  if you fade
i'm  a spirit--------------- if you die
i'm loyal.......................if you trust
i'm food-------------------if you eat
i'm a river....................if you're thirsty
i'm a friend---------------if you care
i'm wings-----------------if you fly
i'm speach--------------- if you talk
i'm hugs----------------- if you embrace
i'm lips------------------  if you kiss
i'm need----------------- if you want
i'm pleasure-------------if you desire
i'm a whisper.............. if you hiss
i'm a flower................ if you bloom
i'm dreams-------------  if you wish
i go---------------------  if you leave
i stay-------------------- if you come
i live---------------------if you love
i'm yours--------------- if you're mine

look my way if you're lost...............
                                      -you're home

---------------------------------------------------------------love charma

Details | Drink Poem | |

Poison

The taste of a warm, clear liquid runs through my throat. 
The bitter taste of love, feelings and emotions all in one clear bottle of venom.
How did it end to this, how did i end up doing this?
The taste gets bitter and bitter just like the flavor of you.
The fiery burn is hotter than hell itself, but i continue going on.
With every drink is another memory to forget, with every drop is another story to be forgotten. 
The numbness of feeling no pain gets stronger and stronger, Every action, every word ever spoken completely disappear with just another drop.
I soon forget but that doesn’t make me stop, why?
Shouldn’t the void clear up now?  shouldn’t the emptiness fill up with the venom, filling me up?
Shouldn’t the dark turn to a grey color and shouldn’t i be satisfied with the warm, fuzzy feeling of forgetting?
No, because how could you forget the emptiness, how could you forget those words, how can you turn an addiction to nothing more than a piece of forgotten string. 
How can you turn love into hate, and how can you turn me into a person?
With the month of addiction, the month of trial and error how did i end up being hurt the most? 
How did i end up turning into someone i’m not, how did i turn to the venom for forgiveness and hope.
5 years old, 8 years old, 10 years, 11 years old I swore to myself i wouldn’t.
I swore the poison would never go into my body, and become my only resort to the paradise called hope.
I swore i would never let substance control me.
But the ashy taste of cigarettes and the burn of venom became my best friend.
They became the only thing that let me forget, and let me feel something more than an endless void, a dark hole in my heart and vibrant colors in my mind. 
They became the only thing to look forward to in the day, the only thing i wanted.
It became very clear to me that the venom i depended on was the poison you left me with.
The only thing i had left was the taste of the warm, clear liquid showing me hope.. 

Details | Drink Poem | |

Trinket Star

Behind the angel’s cove a trinket star of value twinkles soft and bright It keeps the angel’s pathway lit, and roams from here to edge of night There is no mention of her role, but still she glows, on treasured trove Resplendent rubies, luster deep, with green agates in stardust rove Beneath the sweet celestial dome the people sleep in slumbered keep The tadpoles dilly dally by the lake, and lilies float by shadows deep They wander what on earth could be, so incandescent brilliant bright On wayward wing a butterfly strings, from tree to tree, eclectic sight It’s faraway round spaces still, that stark reality effaces like a dream Through back end roads, where river rocks lie still by rushing stream A quiet bull frog pipes his note as wishes ope by trinket star of beaut While lady fair goes miming down the forest glen, silent as a newt The baby doe takes leaps of faith on scrawny legs towards the clear The owl hoots the night and hides behind an oak alert & with no fear While a caterpillar soaked in rich chenille turns to golden marmalade The angels gather round the creek to frolic dance and play Charade An old poem re-vamped By Mystic Rose August 27, 2014

Details | Drink Poem | |

Bullet Proof

                     Bullet Proof

If I was a bullet I would travel real fast
Take showers in the past
Use gun powder to keep me dry
Shop at Target
And avoid people at all cost
If I was a bullet I would buy a gun
A small one, for company
Challenge Superman to a race
Or simply let him leap tall buildings, if he were so inclined
As I leap to my own conclusions by his side
If I was a bullet I would go to Mexico
Drink tequila real slow to get inebriated 
Finish off bottles of 90 proof vodka to prove a point
That I can become bullet proof in any old joint


9/01/14 The Poet - Poetry contest

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