Best Gin Poems
My hair has receded and my belly grown fat
There’s hair growing in my ears and I don’t like that
My joints ache all the day and I have troubles with peeing
I’m tired all the time and have glasses for seeing
Gravity has taken over putting life in a downward spin
No wonder I enjoy drinking a little wine and gin
MOTHER
Never Drank Gin in the Morning
My Mother… never drank!
“Cotton Gin” came to her mind,
when she heard the word Gin.
In stores…Gin never find.
I too, just like Mother
my strongest drink iced tea.
When stronger drink took sip
weird warmth.. came over me.
As, N.Y. designer !
Lemon, lime drink thought try,
Called a “Margarita,”
drank three.. and “Prayed to die!”
Husband will sip Bourbon
stronger, than perfume I wear.
I simply can smell it,
and swear..”.I drank my share.”
Unlike Mother, I drink wine
before going to bed.
Imagine where it goes?
Directly to my head!
At night had bad leg cramps
gave my specialist a call,
“Add Gin to you Tonic”.
Cramps gone..too tipsy.. might fall!
Mom drank, no alcohol
Life taught me.. enjoy mine.
All with “Moderation”
when Paul brings me.. Gin or Wine.
Feb. 28, 2018
A chill of Autumn in the air
and spider’s webs are everywhere
these delicate exquisite works of art
such beauty and joy fills my heart
Old Man’s beard has just appeared
weaving its way through blackberry bushes
loved that name when I was small
to touch ~ so furry
to see ~ enthralled
Blackberries plump and succulent
awaiting to be picked
evoking memories of Mum’s fruit crumbles
blackberries and apples mixed
Sloes ~ a rich dark purple fruit
ripe and ready to bathe in Gin
patiently waiting
sloes luxuriating
tempted to taste
but must not haste
for to sip a Sloe Gin on a cold winters night
leaves a feeling of warmth
and another ~ well I might...
Written 12th September 2020
Contest COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE 8
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
Another Gin and Tonic Horn Limerick
Must I drink another gin and tonic
To tolerate Trump who is moronic
Jumping from hole to hole like a rabbit
Constantly complaining when cannot have it
Grows on you like a plague that is bubonic.
Jim Horn
Feb-ru-ary –
Snow-white blossom,
Winter hedgerow shining.
Now September –
Hedgerow harvest:
Sloe-black, slow, black,
Black fruit with purple bloom.
Sloe gin, slow, gin,
Let the alchemy begin.
Blackthorn, black fruit,
Steeped in finest London gin.
Locked in Kilner
In dark cupboard.
Wait till dark December ......
Ruby colour,
Rich aroma.
Delicious sip,
Post-prandial
Christmas dinner nip.
Mike Jones
25 August 2014
While I was sat drinking lemonade
the winter’s chilling sun started to fade
the calm before the storm
perhaps another dawn
found in fizzy dreams of lemonade.
A hazy moonlit beach then appeared
my senses numbing as I had feared
as a pretty girl winked
at me, I dare not blink
in case she then went and disappeared.
The summer bronze reflected on her skin
her jewel like eyes just drank me in
an orchid in my gaze
to banish winter days
and I was caught in a lover’s gin.
The gin and juice on my lips
What could be better than this?
Going around the cities like a homeless
Meeting some strangers, smokers, players
(Do you have a cigarette?
Yeah, of course, you naughty girl)
It’s so easy to be wrong and bad
If I’m wrong I don’t wanna be right
Could you make me high and dope?
I’m too drunk to walk
So let’s have a ride in nightly cities
And the gin I had wasn’t that bad, so I had one more
He gave me 50 euros, so we gotta get drunk
What a badass
It’s time to leave my daddies
And forgot my shameless past
Maybe it’s time to get drunk
What about gin and juice?
It’s so easy to be wrong and bad
If I’m wrong I don’t wanna be right
Could you make me high and dope?
I’m too drunk to walk
So let’s have a ride in nightly cities
Don’t wake me up
I don’t want to cry myself to sleep
I just want to say goodbye to Flora’s era
It’s so easy to be wrong and bad
If I’m wrong I don’t wanna be right
Could you make me high and dope?
I’m too drunk to walk
So let’s have a ride in nightly cities
Beneath a parapet of color rich and bright
the shiny sidewalk beckons me to come
closer to his revels closer to his warm caress,
As the rainy afternoon remises light
two mesic hearts begin to drum
in keeping with the rhythm of love's guess
The red umbrella shades us from the world
and keeps the rain at bay while we adhere
devoted to each other we find spark
inside an afternoon of dance and swirl
The old cafe gives witness to our near
as Benjy marks his loyalty with bark
The scent of petrichor feels clean and fresh
as we get lost within our love's embrace
the clasp undoes and we are winded in
pressed soft against each other's flesh
desirously we poise standing face to face,
he tastes like tonic with a splash of gin.
November 4, 2018
Was making dinner for my honey, mine.
I realized, alas, I added far too much thyme.
He whispered, “you are thinking way too much of rhyme!”
Quickly I filled us glasses, with ice-cold tonic, gin and lime.
That softened him and he softly whispered,
“Well, I guess after all, it’s no big crime.”
He was my love, so invitingly delicious and ever so sublime.
A peek for you, into my love-life’s, poetic summertime!
7/22/2022
~ 1 ~
One
bottle
standing tall
in the center
of my universe.
I orbit around her
from dawn to dusk like a dead
moon on a never ending course.
She is my only reason to rise
yet is now the bane of my existence.
Round and ready
Fit to burst
They grow like grapes here
Cheek to cheek they bend the bones of the branches
Every year
Two daughters
A mother
A grandmother
Rid the jewels of their armour
Delicately balancing beauty between thumb and forefinger
Tough
Like compacted snow
I know
I know that one swift squeeze and summer would seep
Right through its purple skin
In the basket that lays on the ground
Their silver crowns reflect the sun
Straight up to our thighs and hips and cheeks
They proudly await their fate.
A drop in the deep
Bitter liquid
Three months of bleeding sweetness in the dark
The end.
THE BAR ON BEER STREET AND GIN LANE
Come in quoth he. Ye weary poor devils
What is mine is yours he quipped with hands a-flarin'
T'ward his barrage of demon drink.His eye smiling
that Succubus hint gleaming
just behind his light like in nightmare dreaming.
Poured he proceeded to fill people's glasses
who were now shouting for his Wiley advances
care abandoned.How's about ye young lad,
care for a taste that keep gentlemen glad?
And my cup he prompt filled till more then i want had
please enjoy for small pence you can sit all you want
and engage in mindless stories all day long.
'Yea' said a wrinkled face much young than I
'Let the world kill itself.We be content with this.'
This, my friend,was the last i saw of that dreary place
that will forever haunt my face
with images of the living that be dead
and the dead that think they live.
All night I keep vigil to guard my tempted soul
against that wretched wolf's howl of a call
and pray Lord keep my faith whole
so not to fall in that infernal hole.Amen.
Gin with tonic water
Is my favourite drink
Sometimes I change it
From tonic water
To something different
Mixing cranberry juice
With a bite of gin
Or vodka with cranberry
juice
I enjoy vodka with ginger
ale
Or gin with ginger ale
Or gin with or vodka with
with ginger ale
I like to mix it differently
Enjoying what I create
No matter what I create
Gin with tonic is my favourite
There was a fellow named Tim
Who loved to drink lots of gin.
Got drunk on the beach,
dove in water out of reach.
Too bad he didn't know how to swim.
severely fragmented flashes
lead to blank frustration
never computed to what
my body does,
what other bodies do.
it's not gluttony, it's emptiness-
i always have something in my hand.
the mirror in my mind grasps
at different concepts of myself
like a pawn shop
how much can i get for
this
other options
newer models.
i am happy i just
analyze
my mind numbers emotions
turns them into freeform jazz
writes down the melody and rests
that occupies me for hours
from a distance.