Best Lager Poems
(Was on a pic of a llama with a thick lock of hair on his head, styled in quite human like fashion and it was grinning. If u google llamas perhaps then u will understand what I mean)
This flesh 'n' blood cousin of the ship 'o' the desert
here is given that funky punky , stylish haircut?
Could it be optical illusion or screen manipulation
causing him to grin in mock jubilation?
And ain't he gonna toss those bangs like some real groovy llama?
My doesn't he look ready for any showbiz dromedary drama?
Ah yes, he does look handsome, do come have a view
of this fuzzy, comedy dromedary beau!
Send in the paparazzi, for he's already saying cheese
But he prefers his own kind, send in some lady llamas please.
Hey, like humans, llamas can stick their tongues out and spit to express displeasure
So keep your distance from angry ones or you will regret the mismeasure
The one I see in the picture is a cool llama teenaager
but he's no teeny-bopper, for he's a teetotaller
as no one ever saw him
with a bottle of gin or lager!
Categories:
lager, animal, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
He walks into the bar
Like a movie star
With swagger
Out pouring the lager
Topped by a mop
Of such mythical proportion
It hushes the crowd
With its absorption
More adorn
Than a unicorn
Waving a pompadour
As big as a brontosaur
9/3/2019
Swagger Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
Categories:
lager, cool, hair,
Form:
Light Verse
**“Those that respect the law and love sausage should watch neither being made.” –
American Humorist/Author Mark Twain (real name Samuel Clemens)
Prestigious lawmaking bodies are comprised of solons*
Some find it hard to refrain from comparing them to cons
Few legislators know the ramifications of bills
And the way they’re rushed to passage can give the public chills
We don’t know what’s in bills or how they strip away our rights
And if we ask our lawmakers, they provide few insights
Piles of amendments are thrust hastily in political machines
Objections are made; no one successfully intervenes
“What’s that?” we ask later when we realize what has been done
(In Kennesaw, Georgia, all citizens MUST purchase guns)
Try to blend the conservative and liberal viewpoints
You’ll find the machine sputters with fat spewing from its joints
It’s like taking hunks of pork and grinding them into links
The process is messy and the outcome usually stinks
No matter! We are supposed to smile and just eat it up
Then we wash it all down with a sip from the lager cup
Pork barrel projects like Alaska’s “Bridge to Nowhere” confound
As on nebulous values of bills lawmakers expound
So beware if for common sense in these bills you forage
And remember old Mark Twain’s analogy to sausage
*Solons are members of any legislative or lawmaking body.
Categories:
lager, funny
Form:
Couplet
She was like Bordeaux,
a tall drink of spirit
He was more a hopped
pale lager like Pilsner,
both gorgeous and
super gingered flavors,
although clashing mid
respective savored aplomb,
one so refined the other
rowdy after hours,
yet they complimented
each other in the way
they blended their
drunken demeanors,
intoxicated by mere
existence of nature's
essential complexities
Categories:
lager, allegory, analogy, drink, funny
Form:
Imagism
that Friday feeling calls near noon
with thoughts of lager capped by foam
and dreams this work-day will end soon
which gives your mind a mood to roam
to favored joints, where with the guys
you joke, guffaw, and swig cold beer
until a soft glance meets your eyes,
inviting you to swagger near
and, with bravado, take a chance
to learn her name is Betty-Lou
and yes, indeed, she'd love to dance;
this precious, lovely dream-come-true
melts in your arms when music slows,
allowing hands to learn each curve
while floral scent enthralls your nose,
imbuing you with manly nerve
to hand-in-hand flee into night
where moon peeps down on newfound bliss
and giddy hearts take sudden flight
when lips approach to share a kiss
but garlic-breathing boss looms near,
you shake awake, return alive,
are bull's-eye of his nasal sneer:
"the weekend, Clown, don't start till five!"
Categories:
lager, fantasy, fun,
Form:
Rhyme
We're grouped together ready to party
just standing around waiting for the coach.
Not a stag do exactly, just us men.
Before you ask, it wasn't fancy dress.
A football Friday night out for a drink,
one or two, possibly looking for sex.
I certainly wasn't looking for sex,
no women allowed in this lad’s party.
Tam who’s just arrived is getting a drink,
he’s our mate and first team footballing coach.
Back from a wedding rehearsal; full dress.
So he’ll be glad; being back amongst the men.
We arrive at a pub heaving with men;
just a handful of the opposite sex.
God knows who came up with this **** address.
It isn’t lively enough to party.
We agree that we’ll get back on the coach,
however, Tam bought us all one more drink.
At the next pub I get the lads a drink,
‘Okay,’ I say to them, ‘It’s my round, men,’
and hand three pints of lager to the coach.
My thoughts absentmindedly turn to sex,
when I look towards a crowded hen party
and see a girl in a skimpy red dress.
‘Check out the girl, in the little red dress,’
I say to Liam, passing him his drink.
‘I’d love to get an invite to that party.’
‘Aye well, you, me, and the rest of the men;
thoaght you wurny interested in sex?’
he says, as we watch her approach the coach.
It’s half past two; the last round’s on the coach.
He’s fondling the girl, his hands up her dress.
‘Jesus man, go outside if you want sex,’
I say, ‘It’s your round; last orders for drink.
I’ll be up there with the rest of the men.’
The bar closes; it’s the end of the party.
I board the coach with the rest of the men.
It was a good party, plenty to drink,
and Tam’s having sex wearing the red dress.
Categories:
lager, character, drink, friendship, funny,
Form:
Sestina
This is the best beer I've ever had.
Yes, The best beer I've ever had.
No beer is really bad, but
This is the best beer I’ve ever had.
Beer’s invention was accidental I’m told.
Something about stored grain and mold.
Before the Sphinx, beer was made and sold;
And at times, more valuable than gold.
Drank my first beer while serving Uncle Sam.
Got drunk on ‘33' in Saigon, Vietnam.
By 19, I was a soldier becoming a man;
So, I drank ‘til I didn’t give a damn.
Since then, I’ve travelled the world all around;
And tasted each brew that I’ve found.
Most are named for people, animals or towns;
And are glorious shades of gold, red or brown.
There are pilsners, lagers and ales
Swilled from bottles, cans, mugs…even pails.
If you want to get drunk, you can’t fail.
Drink too much, you may end up in jail.
Drank Stegmaier in old Scranton town.
Folks bragged it was the "best around“.
I tried their Golden, their Porter, their Brown;
And I must say, their judgement is sound.
In Ireland, the Guinness is Stout.
‘Tis a brew those Micks can’t live without.
In the pubs, they all sing and shout;
Until, eventually, they're all drunken louts.
In old Germany, there are too many to choose.
Every Berg and Stein make their own brews.
I tried each one on the Rhine river cruise.
So many to taste. How could I lose?
I enjoyed Sapporo in Tokyo, Japan;
Served by a Geisha at the wave of my hand.
The Singh Hai in Bangkok was grand,
As was the Ninkasi in ancient Tehran.
Tried a lager called Foster’s down under.
Drank too many. My head pounded like thunder.
They say Foster's once laid Dundee asunder;
But they love it… though you may wonder.
Enjoyed Red Stripe on Jamaican shores
And each one tasted like more.
A local beauty I was hoping to score;
But next morning, my head was so sore.
Henry Hudson’s serves Budweiser Light.
It’s weak, so you can drink it all night.
Yes, it takes quite a bit to get “tight”;
But it’s cheap and that makes it alright.
Yes, beer is a beverage so grand,
One of God's greatest gifts to man.
When life gets too tough to stand,
Just open a chilled bottle or can.
This is the best beer I’ve ever had.
When I arrived I was down and quite sad;
After just two or three, life isn't so bad.
This is the best beer I’ve ever had.
Yes, the best beer I've ever had.
Categories:
lager, adventure, best friend, celebration,
Form:
Rhyme
Take a second look at me, for beneath this midriff flab
and balding pate and wrinkly skin you'll find a science lab.
And though all may seem quiet, it may come as quite a shock
to find there are experiments going on around the clock.
Take off my shirt where buttons strain and you will plainly see
the man-boobs test which does defy the laws of gravity.
This pinkish skin in standby mode can shift to deathly white
when I've done wrong and run at over twice the speed of light.
The stomach has increased in size, approaching critical mass
fermenting water, malt and hops delivered by the glass.
The bowel is a reactor , shutting down I'm in no hurry,
as testing is ongoing on the half-life of beef curry,
results have shown it could have blown, with lager mixed for fission
but all the same I still get blamed for resulting emissions.
If trapped inside a lift with me you wouldn't stand a prayer,
but I don't think I've made a dent in the size of the Ozone layer.
I don't believe the Nobel prize I'd win for all these tests
my missus says to keep my findings secret would be best,
and though in all these subjects there is no award for me
she says at least between us both
we've still got Chemistry.
Categories:
lager, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
You are dead now and I am sorry,
For all of the things you thought I should have been,
For all of the things you wanted me to be for you,
I hope that you feel your burden of life is lifted,
And shared by a circle of angels.
For you were once a kind lady,
Fun and laughter were your glow,
A proud and caring grandmother,
Funny stories- I remember,
The only person I knew who ate egg and chips on Christmas Day,
And wore bright colors in her hair.
You sat by my dog and held his head whilst he died,
Because we were far away,
You spoke kindly of me once,
Made me believe I was beautiful,
I know you loved music and a pint of lager in your hand,
And your Welsh accent rang out at many a merry gathering.
Yet even though you are gone,
I cannot pretend it was all happy memories,
It would be a lie and I won’t tell it,
Just because I’m sorry you are dead.
You were often cruel,
You humiliated the ones I love dearly,
Expected our lives to fit perfectly with yours,
You lost many who loved you,
Pushed them away and made them feel small.
But I forgive you because I know,
That your unkindness came from an unhappy place inside of you,
And you suffered greatly for it at the end,
I hope you can forgive yourself,
For refusing to be loved and healed.
I hope you find the peace you wanted,
Wherever you may be now,
I hope the world turns how you wish it to,
Now that you have left it far behind.
Most of all I hope,
That your soul can move beyond all of the bitter endings you created,
And find love and kindness once more,
So that we can remember you fondly and talk of you gladly.
Categories:
lager, absence, cancer, eulogy, farewell,
Form:
Free verse
A player whose name rhymes with Clooney
Got drunk and then drove - what a loony
Spent the night locked in jail
When released he looked pale
The outlook for him may be gloomy
He’ll get whacked with an enormous fine
But his club won't force him to resign
It would make much more sense
losing his road licence
and he stops drinking lager and wine!
Yesterday UK footballer Wayne Rooney got stopped for drink driving
09-02-17
Categories:
lager, car, drink, football, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
Tonight there is a match on telly
The lads are coming round
most of them are married
So my home is to be the neutral ground .
If any of their wives ring
I'm to pretend that I am deaf
and they've all elected me to be
head barman and chef.
I've got Guinness and lager
A crate or two of Yorkshire ale
Newcastle brown and bitter
So the booze just cannot fail .
I've made three lovely shepherds pies
but I asked the lads which veg I should use
I've just been reading their replies
Now I'm totally confused .
One lad doesn't like cabbage
Another doesn't like swede
and it seems broccoli and cauliflower
are members of a dying breed .
The veg that the lads want
From all the replies I've seen
are lots of French fried onions
and cans of Heinz baked beans .
12 drunken farting Yorkies
My house would smell like an old cess pit
So they'll get what their given
They can take it or leave it .
Lemon sole for starters
Chocolate cheesecake for dessert
and if I get a single complaint
I'll kick them where it hurts.
Categories:
lager, friendship, boy,
Form:
Verse
Lazy, long, leisurely lunch,
Lolling, laughing, lingering,
O'er lamb-stew, linguini 'n lager.
In Louisville, Los Angeles, Las Vegas,
London, Lisbon, or Lyon;
At Los Olivos, Las Palmas, La Paloma,
La Scala, La Baguette, or La Castilla:
Let lunch lie palatially on your palate,
Let lunch slowly settle in your limbs,
Let lunch last always:
Let it lustrate and luminate
Life lived long and lived well.
Categories:
lager, food, life, love,
Form:
Alliteration
It’s your birthday so chin up Joolz
But don’t forget to follow the rules
Cos going out is only for fools
And nurses!
As you are stuck in your abode
I decided to write you a birthday ode
But it will probably just be a load
Of verses!
Just cos you can’t go out on the p*ss
You can still take part in a virtual quiz
And have a lager and a packet of crisps
Safe at home.
And while we can’t go to the Roman baths
Or even to visit some giraffes
We can still have lots and lots of laughs
Through the phone.
The birds have all come to your window
Singing happy birthday, let’s play bingo
Don’t be tempted to let them in though,
That’s just mad!
I know you like to cook and bake
So won’t be short of a birthday cake
Even if it’s one you have to make,
Don’t be sad.
So I hope you manage to have a great day,
Don’t let this lockdown get in your way,
It can’t go on, or so they say,
For much longer.
Cos one day soon we will be free
To celebrate, Claire, you and me
I promise I’ll take you out for tea,
Or something stronger.
So while your birthday in 2020,
Isn’t quite how it was meant to be,
Memories there will still be plenty,
Don’t you fret.
So enjoy your birthday, this strange year,
And in a while , not far from here,
We’ll get together and raise a beer
To one you’ll never forget.
Categories:
lager, birthday, celebration, friend,
Form:
Rhyme
The cigarette Smoking
When I lived in Britain that place where refugees in Calais
try to hide in a lorry for the crossing to the promised land.
And haven where pubs are full and pints of lager is a dream
a longing for the unobtainable.
I liked to visits pubs more often than my wife liked not so
much for the ale, one can buy beer and drink it in the park,
(I remember Birkenhead Park before I got a job and a room)
it was the cosiness of drinking and smoking.
Then we were invaded by the health brigade and that was ok,
and we had to go outside for a ***.
This was no good for my health leaving a warm pub to go to
the winter outside I got a cold so bad I left the country.
Since smoking was no longer sociable I stopped. No doubt some
scientist will tell us a bit of nicotine is good for you.
For me it will be too late, I like nothing more than having a meal
at a restaurant free of stale tobacco smoke.
Categories:
lager, abuse, blessing, celebration, depression,
Form:
Sonnet
The new generation is spoiled
They are dyeing due to their bad behaviour
Their good frash ideas were boiled
As they ignored their savoir
They feel themselves sugar
As they think they can have fun
Since they go about drink castle lager
But they will not be bright like the sun
You feel like flappers
While your like prostitutes
As you creating problems as huge as craters
When they burst you will sit like a football substitutes
Young people say they are doing swag
I don't know why they do that
When you wear your cloths look like toilet rag
As your problems are growing fat
Categories:
lager, growing up,
Form:
Rhyme Royal