The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide

Famous Rum Poems by Famous Poets

These are examples of famous Rum poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous rum poems. These examples illustrate what a famous rum poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).

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Manhattan Streets I Saunter'd Pondering

by Walt Whitman
 1
MANHATTAN’S streets I saunter’d, pondering, 
On time, space, reality—on such as these, and abreast with them, prudence. 

2
After all, the last explanation remains to be made about prudence; 
Little and large alike drop quietly aside from the prudence that suits immortality. 

The Soul is of itself;
All verges to it—all has reference to what ensues; 
All that a person does,...Read more of this...

Dream Song 91: Op. posth. no. 14

by John Berryman
 Noises from underground made gibber some
others collected & dug henry up
saying 'You are a sight.'
Chilly, he muttered for a double rum
waving the mikes away, putting a stop
to rumors, pushing his fright

off with the now accumulated taxes
accustomed in his way to solitude
and no bills.
Wives came forward, claiming a new Axis,
fearful for their insurance, though, now, glued
to disencumbered Henry's many ills.

A...Read more of this...

The Quest Eternal

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 O west of all that a man holds dear, on the edge of the Kingdom Come, 
Where carriage is far too high for beer, and the pubs keep only rum, 
On the sunburnt ways of the Outer Back, on the plains of the darkening scrub, 
I have followed the wandering teamster's track, and it always led to a pub....Read more of this...

Casualty

by Seamus Heaney
 I

He would drink by himself
And raise a weathered thumb
Towards the high shelf,
Calling another rum
And blackcurrant, without
Having to raise his voice,
Or order a quick stout
By a lifting of the eyes
And a discreet dumb-show
Of pulling off the top;
At closing time would go
In waders and peaked cap
Into the showery dark,
A dole-kept breadwinner
But a natural for work.
I loved his whole manner,
Sure-footed but too...Read more of this...

My Hour

by Robert William Service
 Day after day behold me plying
My pen within an office drear;
The dullest dog, till homeward hieing,
Then lo! I reign a king of cheer.
A throne have I of padded leather,
A little court of kiddies three,
A wife who smiles whate'er the weather,
A feast of muffins, jam and tea.

The table cleared, a romping battle,
A fairy tale, a "Children, bed,"
A kiss, a hug,...Read more of this...

Conversion

by Jean Toomer
 African Guardian of Souls,
Drunk with rum,
Feasting on strange cassava,
Yielding to new words and a weak palabra
Of a white-faced sardonic god--
Grins, cries
Amen,
Shouts hosanna....Read more of this...

The Grog-anGrumble Steeplechase

by Henry Lawson
 'Twixt the coastline and the border lay the town of Grog-an'-Grumble 
In the days before the bushman was a dull 'n' heartless drudge, 
An' they say the local meeting was a drunken rough-and-tumble, 
Which was ended pretty often by an inquest on the judge. 
An' 'tis said the city talent very often caught a tartar 
In the Grog-an'-Grumble sportsman,...Read more of this...

Wine Bibber

by Robert William Service
 I would rather drink than eat,
 And though I superbly sup,
Food, I feel, can never beat
 Delectation of the cup.
Wine it is that crowns the feast;
 Fish and fowl and fancy meat
Are of my delight the least:
 I would rather drink than eat.

Though no Puritan I be,
 And have doubts of Kingdom Come,
With those fellows I agree
 Who deplore...Read more of this...

The House Slave

by Rita Dove
The first horn lifts its arm over the dew-lit grass
and in the slave quarters there is a rustling –
children are bundled into aprons, cornbread

and water gourds grabbed, a salt pork breakfast taken.
I watch them driven into the vague before-dawn
while their mistress sleeps like an ivory toothpick

and Massa dreams of asses, rum and slave funk.
I cannot fall asleep again. At the...Read more of this...

Jim

by Bret Harte
Say there! P’r’aps
Some on you chaps
Might know Jim Wild?
17Well,—no offense:
Thar ain’t no sense
In gittin’ riled!
Jim was my chum
Up on the Bar:
That’s why I come
Down from up yar,
Lookin’ for Jim.
Thank ye, sir! You
Ain’t of that crew,—
Blest if you are!
Money? Not much:
That ain’t my kind;
I ain’t no such.
Rum? I don’t mind,
Seein’ it’s you.
Well, this yer Jim,—
Did you know him?
Jes’ ’bout your size;
Same...Read more of this...

Poem of Remembrance for a Girl or a Boy

by Walt Whitman
 YOU just maturing youth! You male or female! 
Remember the organic compact of These States, 
Remember the pledge of the Old Thirteen thenceforward to the rights, life, liberty,
 equality of
 man, 
Remember what was promulged by the founders, ratified by The States, signed in black and
 white
 by the Commissioners, and read by Washington at the head of the...Read more of this...

The Threat

by Denise Duhamel
 my mother pushed my sister out of the apartment door with an empty 
suitcase because she kept threatening to run away my sister was sick of me
getting the best of everything the bathrobe with the pink stripes instead of 
the red the soft middle piece of bread while she got the crust I was sick with 
asthma and she...Read more of this...

Dream Song 96: Under the table no. That last was stunning

by John Berryman
 Under the table, no. That last was stunning,
that flagon had breasts. Some men grow down cursed.
Why drink so, two days running?
two months, O seasons, years, two decades running?
I answer (smiles) my question on the cuff:
Man, I been thirsty.

The brake is incomplete but white costumes
threaten his rum, his cointreau, gin-&-sherry,
his bourbon, bugs um all.
His go-out privilege led to odd red...Read more of this...

The Demon Drink

by William Topaz McGonagall
 Oh, thou demon Drink, thou fell destroyer;
Thou curse of society, and its greatest annoyer.
What hast thou done to society, let me think?
I answer thou hast caused the most of ills, thou demon Drink. 

Thou causeth the mother to neglect her child,
Also the father to act as he were wild,
So that he neglects his loving wife and family dear,
By spending...Read more of this...

Though you should sit in sage Aristo's room,

by Omar Khayyam
Though you should sit in sage Aristo's room,
Or rival Cæsar on his throne of Rum,
Drain Jemshid's goblet, for your end's the tomb,
Yea, were you Bahram's self, your end's the tomb!...Read more of this...

The Baldness Of Chewed-Ear

by Robert William Service
 When Chewed-ear Jenkins got hitched up to Guinneyveer McGee,
His flowin' locks, ye recollect, wuz frivolous an' free;
But in old Hymen's jack-pot, it's a most amazin' thing,
Them flowin' locks jest disappeared like snow-balls in the Spring;
Jest seemed to wilt an' fade away like dead leaves in the Fall,
An' left old Chewed-ear balder than a white-washed cannon ball.

Now Missis Chewed-ear Jenkins,...Read more of this...

The Cup On The Battle-field

by Victor Hugo
 ("Mon pére, ce héros au sourire.") 
 
 {Bk. XLIX. iv.} 


 My sire, the hero with the smile so soft, 
 And a tall trooper, his companion oft, 
 Whom he loved greatly for his courage high 
 And strength and stature, as the night drew nigh 
 Rode out together. The battle was done; 
 The dead...Read more of this...

The Wreck of the Indian Chief

by William Topaz McGonagall
 'Twas on the 8th of January 1881,
That a terrific gale along the English Channel ran,
And spread death and disaster in its train,
Whereby the "Indian Chief" vessel was tossed on the raging main. 

She was driven ashore on the Goodwin Sands,
And the good captain fearlessly issued hie commands,
"Come, my men, try snd save the vessel, work with all your might,"
Although...Read more of this...

The Rum Parade

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 Now ye gallant Sydney boys, who have left your household joys 
To march across the sea in search of glory, 
I am very much afraid that you do not love parade, 
But the rum parade is quite another story. 
For the influenza came and to spoil its little game, 
They ordered us to drink a curious mixture; 
Though at...Read more of this...

Immrama

by Paul Muldoon
 I, too, have trailed my father's spirit
From the mud-walled cabin behind the mountain
Where he was born and bred,
TB and scarletina, 

The farm where he was first hired out,
To Wigan, to Crewe junction,
A building-site from which he disappeared
And took passage, almost, for Argentina. 

The mountain is coming down with hazel,
The building-site a slum,
While he has gone no further than Brazil....Read more of this...

Hay and Hell and Booligal

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 "You come and see me, boys," he said; 
"You'll find a welcome and a bed 
And whisky any time you call; 
Although our township hasn't got 
The name of quite a lively spot -- 
You see, I live in Booligal. 
"And people have an awful down 
Upon the district and the town -- 
Which worse than hell itself the...Read more of this...

Asparagus

by Marriott Edgar
 Mr. Ramsbottom went to the races, 
A thing as he'd ne'er done before,
And as luck always follers beginners, 
Won five pounds, no-less and no-more.

He felt himself suddenly tempted
To indulge in some reckless orgee, 
So he went to a caffy-a-teerer 
And had a dressed crab with his tea.

He were crunching the claws at the finish
And wondering what next he would...Read more of this...

The Rum Tum Tugger

by T S (Thomas Stearns) Eliot
 The Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat:
If you offer him pheasant he would rather have grouse.
If you put him in a house he would much prefer a flat,
If you put him in a flat then he'd rather have a house.
If you set him on a mouse then he only wants a rat,
If you set him on a rat...Read more of this...

Suicide In The Trenches

by Siegfried Sassoon
 I knew a simple soldier boy 
Who grinned at life in empty joy, 
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, 
And whistled early with the lark. 

In winter trenches, cowed and glum, 
With crumps and lice and lack of rum, 
He put a bullet through his brain. 
No one spoke of him again. 

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye 
Who...Read more of this...

The Deficit Demon

by Andrew Barton Paterson
 It was the lunatic poet escaped from the local asylum, 
Loudly he twanged on his banjo and sang with his voice like a saw-mill, 
While as with fervour he sang there was borne o'er the shuddering wildwood, 
Borne on the breath of the poet a flavour of rum and of onions. 
He sang of the Deficit Demon that dqelt...Read more of this...

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