Best Drink Poems | Poetry

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New Drink Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Drink poems are below this new poems list.

LIGHT DRINK by Lee Sr., James Edward
Me and my drink by Duffy, Alex
Senryu - One Last Drink by Sanchez, Pandita
What'll we Drink Now by Laurie, Lindsay
Think and Drink by Rigoler, Maurice
I believe drink gave thee the lie last night by Simelane, Sihle
Drink From My Glass by B., Robertina
ant i drink and drugs ant mcpartlin by low, gate
Drink Me by twentyone, she
Drink by Sinha-Roy, Subimal

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The Best Drink Poems

Details | Drink Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I got a letter from the devil

(Hello, my sweet friend!)

Speaks in unknown tongues 
Nevertheless it will consume
Ask for food, 
A sweet drink 
The hunger and thirst are real
It's pitchfork aims at my free will 
Seeking and freaking through my pages 
It's been ages since the impression was gone 
Sloppy wording crawl under my hide 
Notification triggers my finger and thumb 
Bang! The evil one exists
With a second-hand letter 
It believes, it should never be forgotten

Numb as Novocaine can be 
I watch and interpret the riddles in every line 
Living and breathing art, 
I'm echoing the same nightmare 
How dare, the devil seeks to be fed! 
Screaming and remembering 
--the demons that linger in its head 
Too much to read, 
I have major troubles with your disease 
Lunacy of the universe 
Open Obituary, you are a curse
Like a transparent note from a fatal fax machine 
It's a calling, unbearable to describe 
Take from me, after I am deceased 
Like fire, it burns, cancer in every star 

Lies to 
Greets to 

My eye twitch 
My soul hurts 

I'm not feeling well 
Take care, 
Leave me the HEll alone


(-*-)


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015


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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!!!


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013


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There Lies Art

The easel beholds a half finishing painting
The paints beside have all hardened
Pain reflected in the partial emptiness
Staring back at that gathered crowd

The sun melts on the canvas page
Creation explained in elapsed rage
Notions and pleas from dried paintbrushes
Strewn across the almost barren floor

One to the other in whispered voice
I wonder if this would have been his choice?
Empty wine bottles twirling in light
Beside the dead body, a painting just right

There lies Art
In repose
His final painting
His last prose


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017


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Barbie

Barbie
from Loch
March 5, 1990

I fell in love in a biker bar
	with a girl in chocolate hair.
It swept around her like a smoky fire
	and woke up the beast in my lair.

Her bright eyes twinkled like brilliant stars
	at the end of the moonless road--
they called to me like a siren song
	to lay down my heavy load.

Tall she was like a square rigged ship
	like a mast shrouded in clouds; 
and she could dance like a foamy wave,
	making Neptune cry out loud.

But the path of a ship is a bubble
	and suddenly she was gone--
her chocolate hair and vanilla neck
	are moments in my sad song.

This siren's memory seizes me
	like cinnamon schnapps and a grin
which warm the body from the inside out
	and settle a smile on your chin.

Her dancing hair drove my clouds away
	and opened an azure sky;
and all I asked was a tall, thin ship
	and two stars to steer me by.

Among all the women I've danced with
	none are remembered so fair
as a girl who walked like a tall ship,
	and had waves of chocolate hair.


Copyright © Loch David Crane | Year Posted 2014


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Advice

Do not look to me with questioning eyes
For i do not possess the answers you seek 
i cannot taste the bitter sweetness on your tongue,
or smell the withered flowers along your path
My heart beats with less rythm than your blues
i am unable to stumble through your dark corridors,
for you are poet undiscovered
Your answers are hidden deep within an apathetic pen
For you hide behind a painted closed window
Pushing too little 
arriving late
Not aware of your own relevance
Solitarily, feeling sorry for yourself
When instead, pity could be your party
Yes it is true, the world celebrates sad clowns
But you do not let laughter mix with your grey sky tears
i myself, see images of you poured out on limitless pages
Rearranged 
Sculpted
Until your words have substance 
Becoming living and breathing beings 
I wish you to reveal to us your cherished children
Birth them to a forgiving unforgiven world
Risk the grasping hands of rejection
True courage will reveal your annoited pen

Without risk 
you cannot
will not 
bleed in rainbowed splendor
Instead, days will become years
Yesterday will slide into tomorrow
All the while the world would be less
A shadow of what it could have been
In a place of unawareness
Oblivious to its own lacking
Bathed in deprivation
All because
Of a missing
Unexpressed
Silent
Unexplored
voice!

Or maybe
Just maybe
One letter 
A tiny little letter
will grow into a word
Several strung together a stanza
Several stanzas a poem
An honest to goodnes poem
Then we will all be witnesses
To the emergence
The screaming or quiet entrance
The proverbial birth
of a singular voice
of a wide eyed dreamer
Then you will feel that collective sigh
as other broken dreamers applaud you
For on that day
If only you possess the courage
all will know
That you truly are
and always have been 
a Poet!


For Tyshawn Knight's "Words of Wisdom" contest

Re edited version.









Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015


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Threadbare Clouds

Gray smeared sky like a quilt of rags
Winos sip rotgut from brown paper bags
Threadbare cloud crotch splits up the side
Rain pours down, you got nowhere to hide

Cheap umbrella from a street-corner pimp
Turns inside out before going limp
Putrid puddles, soggy dog doo dollops
Are artfully dodged by high-heeled trollops

A rat scurries by with a piece of bread
Like the ant that totes a leaf on its head
You too once held big dreams in your grasp
But they got drowned with a gurgling gasp

You told me before, no you don't stutter
Your genius ideas got washed down the gutter
Now like a scavenger after a flood
You salvage what's left from out of the mud

Ashes to crashes, lust to rust
In the end it only goes bust
Caught in between the future and past
You start out just fine but finish dead last


____________________________

by Brian McClain - Jan 23, 2016




Copyright © Brian McClain | Year Posted 2016


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- The Brown Fog -



There are times you have no choice
To infinite unity, the tide comes as determined
You are part of the earth, the sun, the moon, the wind and the rain

I do not care who you are, I drink of the other fountain
Your jaws tighten your smile gets glued
Leeches bite to **** blood on your skin, by their own greed

  // Act like a man of flesh and blood
Your card must be played, an ace or a joker
Ace has a higher value and joker is a substitute,
but this is not poker //

An obsession that wins over common sense
The power of judgment disappears a power higher than yourself
Use your energy to get out of the dark abyss
He stamps his brown paper bag and makes his choice
Open a bottle of vodka, alcohol's embrace











26.09.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Poem of the Day; 28.09.2017


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017


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LUCIFER and HOOCH

LUCIFER'S gullet was as parched as hell!

   He said, "Lord, some cold HOOCH, would do me well!"

      Lord said, "In thy condition,

         Smoldering in perdition,

            Not a snowball's chance in the place ye dwell!"

Entry for Catie Lindsey's  "L&H Limericks" Contest 

Took First Place in the contest.


Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2015


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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


Copyright © Stephen Kilmer | Year Posted 2013


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It

I wish to be here
In the now of it
The wow of it
The holy cow of it
Living the moment
Feeling the pop and glow of it
Instead of the I don't know of it
Worrying about the what went wrong of it
and why all the pieces don't completely fit 
To afraid to make the next move
So on my proverbial *** I sit

Yesterday swallows up the now of it
Wishing and wondering how to edit it
Leaving me feeling like such a twit
Wearing old garments
That never fit
Is there 
I ask
any sense to it
This worrying and worrying
Always lured into my mental pit
The shadows that keep me from enjoying it
Stuck back at beginnings
I wish and I wish that my mind would quit
Sadly my light isn't on 
it was never lit!

I realize
That's not where I want to be
It's here and now I wish to be
There is so much beauty to see
Worry and regret are the enemy
So I count each and every breath
Pause then breathe one two three
Mind fully cleared
Sitting under a tree
Sky blue 
finally mind emptied
Lock opened 
I am finally freed

Enjoying it
Being in it
Feeling the wow of it
The holy cow of it
Feeling the glow and pop of it
So glad and thankful
To be in the middle and now of it
I now know it is a perfect fit





Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015


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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"


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


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013


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An Irish Leprechaun

There was once an elf who learnt how to brew
a full-bodied beer and cook Irish stew.
He mixed them both together
with whisky for good measure.
When BANG went the pot a tantrum he threw!

-- --- --- - -- --- - - - - --				
Contest: Luck of the Irish
Sponsor: Kim Merryman
         Placed 5th
 © 15th March 2017


Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2017


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Poured Delight

Effervescence
of sparkling champagne
caressing the glass
in ebullient mood
euphoria.


------------------------------
Chosen p.o.t.d. 22Apr2016



Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2016


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- Haiku X 123 - WATER -


                        Small drops ... mouth running
                            molecules in the bottle
                          Moan of blood and sweat










07.03.2018
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
howmanysyllables.com 5-7-5


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2018


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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



Copyright © Caribbean SeaWolf | Year Posted 2011


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Touch me

I am sitting in the dark, silently.
Sipping a drink as I did many times in the past.

Only now I am blushing, for my skin
has never been caressed with such deep voice before.

Those gentle vibes are dancing all over my body
and I cannot help but shiver.

Finally I surrender and let that sound please me.

Your warm whisper floating across the room
stops at my table and rests on my ears.

A muffled groan comes out of my mouth.

Suddenly I feel speechless, naked…
Covered only with your words,
which suit me perfectly.

The room is fulfilled with applause,
brighten by lights escaping through the window
as I walk away.

I left my glass slipper on the table
with a bitter- sweet lipstick mark on it.


Copyright © Danka Sikorska | Year Posted 2014


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Soulmate

Soulmate


You are cool, that is why I am a fool.
I want you to be happy, with or without me.
If you are already in love, then all is good,
Because all I know is, if you trust,
Another soul, you will never grow old.
You will be forever young at heart
And all because you are loved and in love; so…


…If you are alone, then that is unnecessary;
You have always got me if you are in need,
Of someone to listen, or someone to speak,
Or maybe you would just like some company as you enjoy a cup of tea?
One sugar for me please.


So how are you on this glorious day!?
No clouds in the sky will be bringing us rain,
So everything will be ok.


Why so glum, chum?
You should smile again, 
I liked it so much the last time I saw it
And for you to be unhappy is such a shame,
When really there is no need; or is there?
I do not know, but I would like to understand,
If you would care to share.


Here, have a biscuit.
What time is it?
It’s time you told me what it is, that I can do to make you smile.
You say you are in need of three wishes?
Then do not worry my friend, I have a genie on speed-dial.
Let me just give him a quick ring…

(Ring, ring…ring ring.)

It seems he is not answering.
I guess he is off listening,
To other people wishing,
They could be as beautiful as you are.


Ah, there it is!  
That smile of yours, 
That I had been waiting for.
I knew it was in there somewhere.
Like I always say “You will always have someone,” 
Who would like to care,
If only you would let me.
Excuse me.
“Hello?  Sorry I am busy.  Call me back in about sixty years.”
Sorry about that; some people will just not hear.


I only waste my time on beautiful souls;
Those cheating people, I leave alone,
Because they do not light up my life like you do.
So, anyway, tell me more about you…


What interests you?  And what do I need to become,
To be somebody that you could maybe lean upon with love?
No promises, I only wish for it,
But you know what ‘he’ is like; never listening,
But anyhow, how can I improve to become what you want?
What do you need from me?  What must be done!?
I will sit here for a moment and give you time to think it through…

Could you ever feel for me, what I will always feel for you?


Oh, you do not know,
Well then, let me illuminate your mind;
Open your eyes wide and read my soul
And hopefully one day,
Your soulmate, you too shall find.


(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.



Copyright © Aa Harvey | Year Posted 2017


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It's a story never told

It's a story never told

Yes, the mem'ry fades, of what happened next
when the bottles empty
It's a scary thing, when the mem'ry comes
it's a story never told

Life was easy then, not a care was found
when the bottles empty
She was beautiful, they were all alone
it's a story never told

It was paradise, how it felt that night
but the bottles empty
It was dark outside, as the snow came down
it's a story never told

Chorus

He never saw the curve in the road
he never saw all the lights glaring
if only he could remember
it's a story never told
it's a story never told


So much time has gone, since that tragic day
the bottle still lies empty
he hasn't touched a drop, but it can't help now
there's a young girl, 
who won't 
grow 
old
there's a young girl 
who won't 
grow 
old

chorus repeat twice
fade


John Derek Hamilton
September,20,2016






Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2016


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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


Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014


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A Man from Duluth

There once was a man from Duluth
whose habit was spinning the truth.
He had told the same tale
(every day without fail;
'twas getting quite long in the tooth).

He sat down to drink in a booth
then ordered a double vermouth.
He said a tornado
shaped like a potato
had taken his poor wife named, Ruth!

The men in the bar yelled, “Forsooth!”
But one woman thought it was truth
(the gal was a newbie
who'd just smoked a doobie)
and sent more vermouth to the booth.

“The first time I ever saw Ruth,”
he said, toasting her with vermouth,
(Though usually crisp
when he drank he'd a lisp),
“wath back in my youth in Duluth.

“She'd one perpendicular tooth.
When she withled came her pet gooth.
It wath love at firth thight
and we wedded that night
with her gooth on top of a mooth!”

“We honeymooned outthide Duluth
in a cabooth, just me and Ruth.”
He then heaved a big sigh
(he was getting quite high)
“And of courthe the mooth and her gooth.”

He took a big swig of vermouth
and said that they never found Ruth.
“Just an arm at the mall
and her foot on a wall,
pluth one thingle tooth in Duluth.”

He wept as he pined for his youth,
so the gal ordered up more vermouth.
Then the telephone rang
and the bartender sang,
“It's Ruth, your ex-wife in Duluth.

It's I telling you the sad truth
about her and 'who goothed the mooth'!
Now she wants a good check
that won't bounce, you old wreck,
like the last at Bank of Duluth!”

The new gal cried, “Cad, You're uncouth!
You gave your eyetooth it was truth
of poor Ruth and her gooth,
the cabooth and the mooth
in Duluth, and all for vermouth!”

The man said, “The truth in Duluth
and why I keep hitting the juithe
ith that Ruth and the mooth,
the cabooth and her gooth
were a nooth I had to cut looth!”

The new gal cried, “There weren't no gooth,
nor mooth or cabooth in Duluth!
There was just poor old Ruth
and some nooth that was looth,
plus a drunk who soaked up the juithe!”

The man from Duluth knew the truth,
“Thereth no more vermouth. Whath the uthe?”
So he crept out the back,
but the rest knew the tack:
he'd be back next day for vermouth!


Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart | Year Posted 2018


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Tongue Twister

Come hither, Mister Delicious Sir.
Satiate my craving for saturating kisses.

Read these ready lips like romance fiction.
Practice your best parched desert depiction.

Slurp up this mist smorgasbord to savor
cherry chapstick and cinnamon disk's flavor.

Caress the texture of love's breath, pressed against
companion lips.Twist with saliva's slides and slips.

Play tongue tag like young ones chasing.
Stencil silent speech, each moment embracing.

Sip freely from the flowing fountain of Venus.
Spin to the rhythm of the heartbeat between us.


Copyright © Juliet Ligon | Year Posted 2013


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A Desert Song

I found the bottle lying on a dune of wind-swept sand,
And I brushed the grains upon it with a weak and trembling hand,

I was crazy-mad for water, I was more than three days dry,
So I pulled the cork with sand fouled teeth and spat it at the sky.

What came out wasn't water, it tasted more like smoke,
So I thought myself the victim of some fools cruel joke.

Then standing there before me, like a Muslim houri dressed,
Was a damsel more than beautiful, who my flaking face caressed.

She said "you've given me my freedom from my prison of the ages.
So I offer wishes numbering three as payment of your wages."

I knew what I desired, I knew what to wish for first,
I said "give drink to all upon this world who now suffer thirst.

But give those thirsty, a love of fellow, more than words upon the lip.
So they offer the bottle to a brother, before they take a sip.

And give those brethren gratitude, to kneel before they swallow
And thank whatevever God they serve for allowing them to follow."

When this was said I realised, my wishes all were spent,
Which was what I knew I'd wanted, from my first intent.

She said "o man, I see you're one, whom God has truly blessed,
So take a drink of water, and lay thee down to rest.

I grant thee freedom from jealousy, from earthly want, from sin.
Accept these gifts as tribute from an Effete of the Green Djinn."

My reason for wishing as I did, to this day seems to flee me,
But nightly as I slumber well, I still dream of Genie.


Copyright © William Kershaw | Year Posted 2010


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The Magic River

Deep inside the forest of the Elvin King. There flows a magic river from an ancient spring. They say its special waters hold the mystery of youth. And should you take one little drink you’ll know that it’s the truth. The waters all originate from way up in a fountain. That’s hidden very cleverly inside of Elvin Mountain. The extraordinary liquid looks like little diamond chips. Granting youth to everyone with one or two small sips. The river has a secret that is only known to elves. For centuries, the mystery still kept between themselves. They say it is the reason that they live so very long. And that aside from giving youth it also makes them strong. People come to drink the waters from the distant lands. Even from the ocean and the beaches rich with sands. Everyone has tried to guess its power through the years. Little do the people know the river’s strength is tears. For every time a little baby elf begins to cry. They take the little baby tears up to the mountain high. They drop them in the fountain where they travel down the spring. Creating all the magic that the river waters bring. One small sip of precious water on a person’s tongue. Will instantly transform them to the way when they were young. So if you find the Magic River take a sip or two. For it will surely make you feel just like you are brand new.


Copyright © Samia Ali Salama | Year Posted 2012


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The Pub II

Inside pub steins stout magic spoke
‘neath genie wisps of bangle smoke
Brown cone cigars, deep chubby pipes
Aromatic spills to breach the night.
Music calls to muted songs 
Rough knuckles echo Bodhrán drums.
Flute, melodeon, bouzouki*, mandolin
Penny whistles, uilleann pipes, one feisty violin.
Pied piper rhythms, pied piper beats
Bold Celtic persuasions to move proud legs and feet. 

To Daver and friendship, thank you!

* Bouzouki...A stringed instrument that could stand up to the volume and intensity of fiddles, flutes, accordions, and pipes.
*uilleann pipes...Irish bagpipes...melodeon. an Irish accordian


Copyright © Michelle Mac Donald | Year Posted 2014


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Grapes



grapes for the best wine
fresh from the richest vineyard
blessed on the altar

grapes for the best wine
fresh from the richest vineyard
connoisseur’s best choice

grapes for the best wine
fresh from the richest vineyard
difficult to spurn

grapes for the best wine
fresh from the richest vineyard
highlights on feast time


May 17,2013


Note: Originally, I wrote four haiku; but I entered only three in the contest. 

Prize: A book of poem by poet Alfred Vassallo entitled, In Search of Crazed Love


Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2013