Best Pints Poems
After all these years, we've weathered many a heavy storm
Now my life is empty with no one to keep me warm
Bitter tears I've sadly wept, I begged you not to let me go
You couldn't look me in the eye - you didn't want to know
I thought she was my best friend, we’d been through thick and thin
She wormed her way into our lives – oh boy she took me in
Stole your heart away from me, now its no longer you and me
Today we signed the papers, and finally you are free
How do I explain to our kids that daddy no longer lives here
That you prefer that sneaky cow and your pints of beer
Yes you can say I am bitter, gave you the best years of my life
Seventeen years together, now I’m no longer your wife
My world is shattered and broken, silent tears fall like rain
Maybe in time I’ll move on when my heart's not filled with pain
18th April 2015
Categories:
pints, best friend, betrayal, heartbreak,
Form:
Rhyme
Twenty Pints of Sunshine
David J Walker
It seemed to be the only thing
In abundance on the farm
The light and heat
The shine so bright
Long days
short nights
And work doled out in the mornings
Today we will bottle in bell jars
20 pints of sunshine
And call it canning
A summer seasons planning
Saved for the
Short days
The long nights
Of freezing winter weather
To be opened
It says
When sleet falls in December
When the woods are wet and dreary
When the farm is fallow
When sunshine can only be found
In pint-sized
Bell Jar bottles
Categories:
pints, sunshine,
Form:
Rhyme
Remembering the days of yesteryear
when family ties were held most dear,
gas lamps flickered in the back street
while most of us danced a different beat.
Tragic alleyways of smog and smut
“Live over the brush”* branded a sl*t,
silhouettes infringe the darkest night
gullible back shift broke the morning light.
Adventurous nights at “Townhead Mill”
eight pints of beer the back porch thrill,
when no meant yes in rapturous skill
to fumigated music from “Nashville.”
Obnoxious libertine this bread man
bay curtain drawn delivery van,
the situation conspired indiscretion
clinical the world’s oldest profession.
Sporting gentlemen in summer bliss
caught first ball costly night on the piss,
pavilion home to moorside drover
many a chaste maiden bowled over.
Partial pilgrimage down “Bolton Road”
black and amber heroes round ball code,
liniment buoyant throughout the room
manly skills embroider the village groom.
Cardinal days steeped in “Rock ‘n’ Roll”
sire in fear of them out of control,
a colossal wedge between cultures
in shadows of decency vile vultures.
Repetitious days of school yard might
the bullies reduced one’s life to plight,
parents queried yet misunderstood
reasons for mayhem in the neighbourhood.
Lad and lasses lost in “Hide and seek”
games of “Stroke a back” every week,
by the old school grounds we all did laik**
now the street is naked for heaven sake.
Why on earth would a mind keep drifting back
this poetry constantly placing me on track,
when life was a role without fame or stars
only toil and trepidation and these scars?
© Harry J Horsman 2013
*Living in sin
** Play
Categories:
pints, life, nostalgia, school,
Form:
Rhyme
She said she'd make some sandwiches,
he told her he could do it better.
She said, “Here, I’ve fixed some cold cuts!”
All he said was, “nuts!”
She told him she could cook Chinese
he told her he could do it better.
She said, “Here, I made Chop Suey!”
All he said was, “phooey!”
So then she thought she’d take him out
he still thought he could do it better.
When the waiter brought roast duck
All he could say was, “yuck!”
She thought perhaps dessert would cheer him
though he still thought he’d do better.
She bought pints of chocolate mint
All he said’s not fit to print.
And so they married, Spoon and Knife -
she lived to feed him; he to cut her.
With that spoon, she dug her grave
But truth be told, he did it better.
Categories:
pints, giving, marriage,
Form:
Rhyme
visitin me aunty Cushla
For the first time in Ballybay
I found meself beside a signpost
An I stopped to find me way.
It was then I spied a little feller
Laid behind a bale of hay
He was prepared to help me
but wanted to know what I was prepared to pay.
Well I couldn't believe what I was hearin
He's a tight fisted scallywag
but he wouldn't listen to reason
and jangled the coins in his money bag.
Would ye do that to a feller Irishman ?
I hope yer marry a sour faced old hag
He said , Why do yer think I'm chargin yer
Shut yer gob an get out yer swag.
He rubbed his hands as I counted me money
Just like Ebenezer Scrooge
Gigglin like an hyena
With his cheeks the colour of rouge.
Twenty pieces of silver
I thought his price was huge
The guys a bloody comedian
an I am to be his stooge.
He stood up from behind the bale
An dressed in so many shades of green
With his funny hat and his little pipe
On his shillelagh he began to lean.
Now where was it yer said yer were goin
Ah Ballybay , Well to prove I'm not too mean
I'm gonna walk there with yer
Aren't I the most generous leprechaun yerv ever seen?
As we walked I told him about me aunty Cushla
an me bein on holiday fer two weeks
He handed me back me money
I'm so dumbfounded I can't speak
Ah to see a leprechaun yer must believe
He said,So yer must forgive me cheek
An its luvvly to see a young Irish lad
Who didn't treat me like a freak.
Well Shamus an me became buddies
Fer the duration of me stay
Downin pints an eatin colcannon
an dancin in the Irish way
He could really play a fiddle
An no more did I have to pay
I loved me visit to see aunty Cushla
On me first trip to Ballybay.
Categories:
pints, funny,
Form:
Narrative
It is on this day
Into his elegant horizons
Where cirrus clouds are sprayed from sunrises and sunsets
Attuned within throat of violins
An example of his concave humanity
Preaching fond memories in baritone clefs
An embrace of admirations’ core within exhaled stanzas
Forcing trembled knees to stand against robe of Death
His double entendres know no bounds
My iridescent conundrums become resolutions’ pavement
As I grab aloe-coated tissues
Wiping joyous tears from his laughter induced statements
He pours wisdom in foaming, oat-flavored pints
While we relish in his charming, devilish wit
Slowing down a rushed humanity
Bit by luminescent bit
Yes, it is on this day
Where I choose to declare in Quatrain formed sentence
To the one that puts the “man” in humanity
An affirmation on why I bow in Santa’s reverence
©Drake J. Eszes
Dedicated to the almighty Jack Ellison and my 1st Quatrain!
Categories:
pints, dedication, friendship,
Form:
Quatrain
(Un)Happy Hour
Bob went to the doc with pain in his rear
Walked with a limp and was "loaded" with fear
doc hemmed and he hawed
amazed what he saw
Stashed deep in Bob's butt were two pints of beer
Categories:
pints, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
The Burning
It was seven days and seven nights
Or there abouts, I was not so sure
Life was shrouded in the darkness not at all pure
I lost track of dawn, of dusk, of realities fight
To keep me conscious
To keep me right
Comatose, delirious, unmoving slumber
In this dream like state
My desires still existed
Thirsts to be quenched
Passions flared
She was seductively dressed
I, with the eye of a tiger
Wishing to devour her being
To be with her, in her, be her
To taste her very soul
I smelled her nectars inviting scent
The bed sheets become drenched in sweat
The heat of the night ensconced me
A thousand candles and yet one more burned
The heat of passion mixed with the heat of the night
Flames rose from the desires within and without
My subconscious has played evil tricks and fooled me again
Lighting the candles that shall bring me to the beyond
The sheets became brimstone, the fire engulfed me
My mind in hazy confusion smelled roast flock of some sort
A meal after the passions was a succulent dessert
I became dizzy with the lust and the love intermixed
Somehow I am sleepy, dreamy, so very tired
The heat blankets me and I feel a strange foreboding
The reaper is grinning, staring down on my face
I try to wake, but I haven’t the wherewithal
I feel the burning
Painful for but a moment as the smokey flames take me
For one last dance
Burning, burning, searing heat
Blackened and burnt
Dreams
No more
Sunday, at 24 minutes past midnight, firetrucks arrived at an apartment in Dublin, Ireland 24 O’Connell street, and above Murrays pub, a lone tenant was found burnt to a crisp, apparently by a fire cause by candles, the remains have not been identified, and the building is a total loss.
Arthur’s Day in Dublin
Posted on September 24, 2009
To celebrate Arthur’s Day, From 17:59 to 22:00 All Pints of draft beers were €2.50
Categories:
pints, angel, angst, goodbye, suicide,
Form:
Verse
The west winds of springtime
Brought forth April showers
That rained on the pavements
Of Southwick for hours.
It was standing room only
And full to the brim
As people sought shelter
At the old Tabard Inn.
A man with a top hat
Sat staring in space.
There was illness and sadness
Etched deep in his face.
A man with a fob watch
Was seen swapping gold
For a bottle of whisky
Before facing the cold.
A woman sighed deeply
Then laughed with a guest
While sipping tap water
And winning at chess.
There was no chef so no food
Since that dark violent day
When the innkeeper watched him
Being stretchered away.
So the sailor (being followed)
Missed having his tea,
And drank five pints of real ale
Before leaving for sea.
Categories:
pints, character, literature, london,
Form:
Narrative
One more question… say
Could Mona resemble mount?
Appearing as a huge fount!
Could Lisa… if so
Resemble Li? A black horse!
The prettiest mount of all?
In Lishan’s bliss lap
Where hot springs foil blissful map
Lisa taken from Lishan?!
Lastly, could Mount Li
Be mirror mount in Far East
When Columbus spews soil’s meek?!
But I wonder how
Accurate old paintings are
Keys of clues for clever dart!
Awakening sleep-
ing giants in Middle East?!
A smart name! World’s deep history
Da Vinci did see
The beginning of the bliss
Future coming so fast… twinge?
It’s time to plant seeds
Of grains to bloom hefty pints
Of harmony beading fizz
Two thousand twelve… cheer
When peace makers garb the *****
With profound peaceful prayer…
Stampeding ugly
Prayers… so that “Sweet Rhyme” brings
Chaste lands together in peace.
By: Nadia F. Shahwan – September 2009. This poem has been inspired through observing the
portrait of Mona Lisa by Da Vinci.
Categories:
pints, art
Form:
Choka
I remember many years ago
when the distant siren told us all
the shift had ended.
Yet! Six pints to be drunk before
stumbling through the back door,
his sweat still clinging to his face
sealed there with in the grime of despair
swearing every night, never to go back
to that bloody pithead!
But our need was he and his was the beer
until that fateful day, when out of his misery
he was taken, leaving us all for another world,
his need of pain forgotten when distributed
to those of us left behind.
Yet every day I still see him
in your smile in your ways,
and when you are sad Dear Daughter
in those beautiful ‘Ice Blue Eyes’.
© Harry J Horsman 2008
Categories:
pints, life,
Form:
Free verse
All the fighting Irish see stars
Over pints of Guinness in bars
But Jan has a plan
To transport each man
Its called, "Cork, Uranus to Mars"
Categories:
pints, funny, space, stars, wind,
Form:
Limerick
The puppet pranced
The strings frayed
A jackass brayed
As poppin’ hoppys
Sat and rose
In ballet dance
Of well browned nose
Applause and “clapture”
of Stockholm rapture
A mocking strut
Of failing stature
Overseers jaundiced eyes
Pundits seeking pulitz prize
Dissect the metaphoric frog
Wash it down with pints of grog
Amidst the spin of liars din
They shout pick me let’s ride again
Update quickly twitter feeds
Sating lustful twitter needs
Condense a two hour monologue
Into a twenty-five word blog
Check the facts, don’t be a chump
It’s just another “word soup” dump
John G. Lawless
©2/8/2023
Categories:
pints, angst, political, satire,
Form:
Rhyme
EVERY DAY THAT GOES BY
I ALWAYS QUESTION MYSELF WHY
THAT LIFE HAS TO BE SO UNFAIR
WHEN I WALK IN THE HOUSE AND YOU`RE NOT THERE
GROWING UP OVER THE BORDER A FAMILY OF FIVE
I STILL CAN`T BELIEVE DAD THAT YOU ARN`T ALIVE
YOU AND VERY CLOSE MATE GEORGE BROWN
IN THE GLASS BARRELL OR A PUB IN THE TOWN
AND EVERYONE THAT YOU DID KNOW
SAY THERE`S JOE AND GEORGE FROM THE MUPPET SHOW
YOU LOVED GOING OUT AND PLAYING POOL DOUBLES
A NICE FEW PINTS AND HOME.... NO TROUBLES
DAD IT WILL BE SO HARD FOR ME
TO FULlFIL YOUR WISHES, YOUR ASHES AT SEA.
WROTE FOR A FRIEND WHO`S FATHERS MEMORIAL IS COMING UP
Categories:
pints, death
Form:
Rhyme
Power plant particled poison
People breathing pints per person
Pending paramedic pursuit
Pushing poppies past the pigment
11/26/17
Written for contest: "Alliteration"
Categories:
pints, power, word play,
Form:
Alliteration