Best Liquor Poems
Gestures beckon gestures,
Speech caresses silence,
Laughter accompanies the seductive sways of smiles,
The beautiful bliss of our starry eyes gone astray;
Then caught and locked in a stir of longing for each other.
None, but a tale of fantasy,
Re-enacting the dé·jà vu of a dream.
A dream; an all-discerning vision
Relentlessly unfolding a heart-stricken revelation.
An exposition of the future’s past.
Relishing; this past, indeed. In a one we go a-dancing;
Yet still, in exchange of smothering kisses, beneath the cover of darkness
With flames of a soaring passion burning; our bonded souls to sooth
Urging the sweet cravings of yearning desires, us to consume
In our intoxicating state of peaked pleasure,
In our hypnotizing exile of uncontrollable ecstasy.
How soon this liquor of love runs out
Pour me another glass, please……
A toast, in honor of our non-existing love
Cheers!!
befuddled with liquor
hearing noises in the distance
unclear fuzzy thinking
faculties blown
lah-lah-land feeling
outer space beyond comprehension
inhibitions gone
someone maneuvers your body
you do not care
fences gone
whatever happens happens
a dangerous place
Our mountain hollow held starlight’s flicker
when Jill said, “Come, boy, follow me quicker.”
Soon Jill promised me a thrill
and led me to someone’s still.
That night's the first time she made me liquor.
He dives into a liquor bottle, and
Zigzags like a snake on the sand.
A wife waits for her hero,
But who comes as a zero.
Obscenities ooze from his ‘stupor gland’.
(My limerick which was selected and published in Selected Poems Anthology 2013 by Pendle War Poetry, U K)
The Liquor Bottle
Conical at the top beautiful sides offers it support
Like a forest of oak trees in a bar, beautiful patterns they create
The shining reflective glass reveals the attracting liquid content
Salivating onlookers surround the container, ready to pounce on it
Like hungry man eaters, the opening pop sound they eagerly wait
That beautiful liquor bottle slowly turns you into a sluggard
Sweet, smoothing and addictive taste it has, others may say
Your heart, liver, brain and whole body, useless it will make
Inviting cancer, creating hangovers and bad moods, that’s the part it will play
Heavy clinic bills and short lifespan, that’s the price you will pay,
But finally in a six by four and seven feet underground you will lay
That beautiful liquor bottle slowly turns you into a sluggard
In the young and able men of the society we can’t rely
In dirty waters, by roadside and in dangerous dens they lie
Family fights and broken marriages have become the main cry
Then your friend death knocks at your door very early
It’s under that green large tree, your remains we will burry
That beautiful liquor bottle slowly turns you into a sluggard
Future doctors, sportsmen and leaders, in alcohol they dance
Fathers, mothers and whole society, let’s stop this menace
By doing so, development, ability and intelligence we will enhance
Institutions will grow and have a society that runs
We dream of the best society, but do we see it at glance?
That beautiful liquor bottle slowly turns you into a sluggard
( By Ngugi Waweru)
FOUNTAIN : LIQUOR BOTTLE SHRINES...
Intoxicated and driven,
Staggering to a higher purpose where they buy their souls
Meeting with their Maker as they peak and overflow
Seeing all these empty faces file in and out in dance to the tune
No need to protect the treasure if it stifles their zenith
In and out of bodies they seem to leave
No flow from the fountain from which they drink
Stagnant, waiting to satisfy their insatiable thirst
With unimaginable haste gulping from the core as if a first encounter with an
oasis
Dripping down the contours of the mouth from the aggression
‘Drop off the gratitude before leaving the shrine’
The unholy water whispers after it quenches
Dressed in robes of fine cotton another traveler enters
With such poise and dominance that leaves the ground shaken
Unwrapping the cloth from the perfect curves
Ready to take a sip and maybe indulge
Let loose and even contain some in the silver chalice
Slowly ...steady does it
Starting off with a lick then a slurp out of impulse
As if tasting the finest wine making sure not to miss a drop
For the water it is a forever ago once forgotten
The delicacy
Hand upon lips to wipe away the resistant drops
The evidence of true of the luxury that should have never been
The water forgets
Until he leaves a fine too hefty even for indulgence
Eyes blood shot and teary from the wind
With the force of a hurricane marching towards emancipation
There is a need to irrigate the death
Ripples can be seen in the water while the typhoon swallows
It is an impact so strong that everything else is rendered inert
There is a spilling and maybe even a leaking
A time out should be called for the forces that are to repair
It is not a damage alien
Maybe add some yeast and watch it ferment
Sprinkle perfume and delude the nostrils of the parched
A measure necessary for the uplifting of all spirits
Nickels and dimes left in the fountain as the swagger out with satisfaction
Maybe tomorrow will be a good day to experience the bliss
Yet again and then maybe again and again
An ephemeral source that should be exploited
Expiration is imminent and thirst is persistent
Until they stumble upon another gift of the rain
They will drink
Till drink is no more...
An empty bottle
leaves twenty percent guilt
and ten percent regret.
Paddi March
Philosophical
In your sleep, you told me you loved me
Again
In the morning you’ll deny your feelings
Again
Your words come from the booze
I lose
Again
Though it’s nice listening to words inspired by liquor
Just wish you’d remember them when you’re sober
Not inspired by a recent event -- just memories.
Straitened are the times
And tight is my pocket.
A glass of brandy
Consumed with contemplation
Is hard to bargain
As speculators have poured in
Shouting ‘buy’, ‘buy’, ‘buy’.
Since out is the signal
The hoarders have barged in
And have emptied the market
Of all the brandy, inclusive of
The liquors that brandished
Even a semblance of flavor
That reminded them of this brand.
After the run-on brandy
Its prices have rocketed sky-high.
Engulfed by indignation
But still the avid lover
That I am of this brand,
I emptied my purse
To offer me a bottle of brandy.
Sipping the liquor in a glass
And immersed in happiness
I sat reinstated to my senses
And to the art of philosophizing,
And wondered whether the glass
That I held in my hand
Was half-full or half-empty.
Misfit to this treacherous art
But tied to pitfalls in my daily life,
I sat there and gazed contently
Through my half-filled glass
With intent and pride, enthralled
That I did not have to complain
About things I can’t change.
Tea kettle whistles;
As the life evaporates,
The brew soothes the soul.
In Loving Memory of Granny Pearl's Heavenly Homecoming
If I were the bottle
You would press your lips to my neck nightly.
If I were the liquid
You would consume me multiple.
But I am just a woman
Who needs your attention always.
If only you could
Liquor lips.
Grandma Gertie knocked back more than a few
When, of a sudden, she heard herself 'moo' --
I can hold my liquor!
She burped, and then snickered --
She 'neighed' ~ Off to the factory for glue
I went into the state liquor store last night on the more serious side of town. It was hopping and everyone was rushing from their cars to the front door as the frigid temperatures tried to bring them to their knees. Oh no! There was no stopping them from getting their fixes. It was Friday night and they were determined that they were gonna feeeel good one more time. They were gonna hit the bottle again and lay beside it kissing it goodnight on the cheek. Not a single one even noticed me either. They were in their own groove and not concerned that I was like a fish outta water in that store.
I saw the security guard first and that was all I needed to see. He was about six foot three and had the heart of my Lord and Savior. There he was standing in the middle of the store bringing any potential chaos to order. I just wanted to share my story with him (and my flyer) about the Mark of the Beast. I showed him the flashy picture of the RFID chip and I showed him the hopes of the government from the Affordable Health Care Act to affix or implant a mark upon the people of our land. He knew exactly what it was too! I was happy as a lark! He said, "Sister! Give me a few of them flyers and I will blow one up real big and plaster it to the walls in here too!" I thought to myself how would anyone ever read them because when they walk into the store they have their eyes plastered on two main things. One being the shelf with their favorite bottle and two being the checkout clerk. Then they dash for the door off to make their aches and pains go away.
It was such a positive interaction though and I thanked God for him. It was as though he was an angel standing at his post. Perhaps he was!
Gwendolen Rix
2-28-15
Jimmy crack corn I’ve been told.
Why would Jimmy crack his corn?
It gives kick to liquor bold,
makes you wonder why you’re born.
Yet, that mean ol’ blue-tail fly
makes you want to stay inside.
Its bite’s so bad, makes you cry
like a love that’s been denied.
Jimmy likes liquor it’s true
braving nasty bites he gets,
goes and keeps that still a’brew,
protects his liquid assets.
Jimmy’s fate sealed one sad day
as that ol’ blue takes a chew.
Hurts so bad, he senseless lay.
Cracked corn fell off his menu.
So if liquor is your thing
don’t crack your corn to make it.
Stay where ol’ blue, he can’t sting.
Admit that you can’t take it.
NB: Loosely based on the 1846 minstrel song, Blue-tail Fly (Jimmy Crack Corn). There are many speculated interpretations of the song. ;)
Rollo Rigby was a lover of candy
he kept a big supply ever handy.
But he became so obese
he waddled like geese.
He quit candy but is hooked on brandy
(making his life fine and dandy).