The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide

Best Schnapps Poems


Premium Member 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.

Premium Member A Soothing Ammendment

the peppermint schnapps
slides down slowly with fervor
coating the cantankerous tongue
— the blessing of the throat

In My Little Garden

You'll probably find me in my little garden
With my big floppy straw hat upon my head,
And dirt on my hands digging in rich black soil.
I'm always fiddling with my garden beds,
Planting ground cover between the plants,
Blue little petals with heart-shaped leaves.
Some bloom early and some bloom late,
But the anticipation is worth the wait.

A gentle breeze like butterfly wings
Lifts sweet aromas from my blooms.
Honeysuckles, alyssums and gardenias,
Flowers of reddish pink, purple and white,
Stretch and yawn towards the sun.
A true show that spoils the eyes and heart.

Please come and sit a spell and we can chat,
And enjoy my little garden of zen.
Ice tea or peach schnapps, if you wish.



For Sandy's Ivy's contest, 'My Own Little Garden'


Premium Member How General Grant Won the Civil War

He could fight and win battles, could this General Ulysses Grant!

   Other of Lincoln's generals were continually sayin', "I can't!"

Though 'twas well-known that General Grant relished his schnapps,

   Even soused he could concoct solid battle plans by studyin' his maps.

Becomin' frustrated with his other generals and their lack of action,

   Abe suggested to an aide that if it would help them get some traction,

He'd like to know what Ulysses drank and where he got the stuff,

   So he could send a barrel to every general to get him off his duff!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved

It Takes Two To Make a Tear

It takes two to make a tear 

It’s Christmastime so no more killing now!
Let’s get together, sing some carols here.
In no man’s land, we’re brothers for today.
A merry Christmas, season’s greetings, mate.
Und frohliche weihnachten to you, my friend.
Oh, stille nacht, holy night: a lovely sound.

I’ll trade some brandy for your schnapps, old mate.
Und bratwurst for your bully beef, my friend!
It’s nice to know you, as we’re friendly now.
I wish that you could meet my folk today.
Your German language is a pleasant sound.
Und Englisch klingt gut, now it’s spoken here.

It’s good when laughter is the only sound!
A cigarette? Und zigarette, my friend?
It’s good to smoke it either way right now.
I’d take you home to meet my folks, so here’s
A photo of my wife and children, mate.
I wish that I could be with them today.

We’ll have a game of football, Max, my mate:
A Christmas friendly five a side today!
Ah, football das ist gut, my friend.
And only friendly rivalry from now.
With Cheers, instead of cries: such happy sounds!
And No Man’s land’s a perfect pitch right here.

I wish I had some gifts to offer here.
Oh, what I wouldn’t give for hankies now.
Let’s sing again; it’s such a jolly sound.
It’s snowing; friendship keeps us warm today.
You’re welcome to mein mantel, Bob, my friend.
I never thought I’d wear your coat, Max, mate.

The world is now a better place today.
I think we’ll stay gute freunde, do you, my friend?
Of course we’ll be good pals from now on, mate.
I couldn’t shoot at German soldiers now.
We’ll tell them straight that we’re all friendly here -
And no more fighting in the world sounds sound!

They say we’re enemies again, old mate.
Ja, weihnachten war gestern, Bob my friend.
Forgive me if I take your life today…


*In 1914, the German and English troops had a ceasefire at Christmas.

I think my German words are correct, but apologies if not!
© Jack Horne  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Thanksgiving

Family gathers for Thanksgiving dinner

  As you step into grandma's home
You smell the savory aromas

   Turkey is stuffed and cooking in the oven
Glazed ham garnished with pineapple and cherries
We’re getting very anxious for homemade buns to rise

   Table is decked with grandma’s fine china
Table settings and white lace linen
Fresh Thanksgiving Autumn floral bouquet,
Candles flicker in-tall thin brass candleholders

   Salad, asparagus and cheese sauce,
Mashed potatoes and gravy,
Cranberry sauce,
Cinnamon sweet potatoes garnished with marshmallows
Ambrosia fruit salad, cherry and pumpkin pies
Apple crisp with caramel sauce a prize
Punch bowl filled to the brim 
With eggnog and hot cinnamon schnapps

   A second ham sits in the baking pan on the stove
Of balance over the burner knobs
Pa picks up the lid to take a peek

      Did a hip-hop back

   As it slides off the top of stove onto the floor
Bathing everyone around with sweet greasy glaze
For once I wish I had Rover and Max around to lap up the floor
As they were locked up in their dog cage so they wouldn’t be underfoot

   Slipping and sliding and grabbing on to the counters I whispered
Please dogs come and save us from this wet dirty job

   We dropped plenty of towels and got a mop and a bucket of suds
To sup- up the entire sweet greasy glaze
 Finally the crazy mayhem was over
Turned to face the table and held our composure

Bless us, Oh Lord, 
and these thy gifts which
we are about to receive from thy bounty, 
through Christ, Our Lord.
Amen.

   Moaning and groaning too stuffed to move
Rubbing their bellies that are just ready to bust
Still enough food left over for everyone to take home

11/24/2016
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member I Broke Free

What happened to the man I loved? Why did he lose himself?
The strong hold his demons had over him was tearing us apart   
Dilated pupils, slurred words, stupid grin worn when drinking,
a fool who staggers on his way until he's behind a closed door
I'll let it be for now, but putting up with it is becoming a chore

Mom died and I'd flown home to take care of all that mattered
Two hours at the airport before he arrived. At least he was alive
I asked for the keys;  he gave me that sly grin with a blank stare
I let it be. Can't reason with a drunk who's leaning on the car door
He reaked of peppermint schnapps.  Beneath my breath I swore

I drove home from work and found the usual 'hidden' tell-tale signs
top shelf of the pantry, another box in the shower, half eaten pizzas
He was clueless that the scent of pepperoni gave his addiction away
Not up for a confrontation so I didn't knock upon his fortress door
I had to let it be because I heard him snoring, passed out on the floor

What excuses he invented when it was time for him to go to work
"My allergies are acting up," with Kleenex up both sides of his nose
Or this, "My hair is not cooperating today so just go on without me"
When I got home I was alone. He, behind the damned locked door
I'd let him be, but I longed for the life that once held so much more

I found empty vodka bottles he thought hidden in places I'd not find
blueberry, peach, or tasty flavor of the week, under dresser drawers
He refused my begging pleas to get the help he needed, so I let it be
It's true; living with someone who keeps himself shut behind a door
is lonelier that living alone.  I loved him, but I was better off before.

Before he started drinking we were happy; quite a contented couple
But that changed when he abused me with angry words and actions
There was no satisfaction in walking away from the man I still loved
I couldn't say "let it be."  I wouldn't watch another inebriated encore
I said goodbye, trying not to cry. Tears fell when I closed the door
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Christmas 2020

the elves built a new workshop and yes there’s a but
they didn’t use one-call and their phone lines got cut
isolated up north poor Santa missed some calls
he lost the warranty on his sleigh and an order of soccer balls
he missed the call about Rona and the mandate for a mask
Santa had no P.P.E. just some schnapps in a flask
there was a global pandemic much to his surprise
he was stopped on a rooftop and could only see eyes
he was greeted by a cop in a hazmat suit
Santa was drunk without a mask and had to reroute
they took Rudolph to the Zoo and impounded his sleigh
now Santa is under quarantine for the next fourteen days

Sleigh Ride

Through gossamer skies so low

And over the blue glass sea below

Peppermint stops

Ginger schnapps

Eight Reindeer hops

His jelly belly skips

over belted hips


Dashing through the snow and sleet

All night he rides

Weary, dreary

Down the chimney he slides

No sleigh ride's complete

Without milk and cookies to eat

Cheers

CHEERS !

Toast to all the Girls, who live in a whirl, of parties and nightlife and fun.
Here’s to the those girls, who wake every morn, wondering who gave her the bun.
Scholl to likely lads, who think they’re real BAD, and can pull any girl on her own.
Prost to every man who’s, pushing a pram, thinking he’s pushing his own.

L’chaim to the chaps, who make Vodka and Schnapps,  and make it so easy to sin.
Bottoms up to the men, who still sell it when, their customers mind has gone dim.
Chin Chin to the drinkers, long tall and short, who never know when to say stop.
Applause to the ones, who now know how it’s done, and drink to the very last drop.

Strong drink is raging, although it’s engaging, and wine is a mocker it’s true.
And whiskey divides, the fool from the wise, and is useful for cleaning the loo.
The effects of the drink, will cause you to sink, much lower than you want or need.
So take my advice, please refrain and be nice, your better off sticking with weed.

Woes of Marriages

MARRIAGES

For long I cherish its trees and flowers
As it forms my roots from dead dreams
So my aim is to continue from where folks retires it
Marry my Golden Idol
Marry my love
Have children and be a father
But now the dream is a battle
So I am on a battlefield
And I ask dear, who is the foe?
here, they are look at them, the enemies
Thousand and half Ghana in cedis
Twenty four bottles of Schnapps for her
Two Singer branded sewing machines for her
Twenty four pairs of panties for her
Twelve pairs of ladies shoes for her
Six stacks of portmanteau bags for her
One golden ring for the day in dream
One maxi size towel for dear father-in-law
Two pairs of headkerchief for dear mother-in-law
Yet many are hidden behind the smiles 
Then tears soon gathers its momentum
Soon to flow free
But I am not afraid
Only I wonder what the future holds 
Shall I be married
When in this day! its now a trade
But I blame my folks, my parents
why?
I should have been a woman to make them rich
As this is the song of the day
Marriage for SALE!
Marriage for sale!
Not for paupers
Not for the mean
Not for the poor
Yet Still we shall endure, pay the dowry, overcome the enemy.

Christmas At Grandmas

Christmas at Grandma’s
over the river and the thru the woods
it’s damn cold out here even with our hoods
the horse knows the way but he tends to sway
if he drops we won’t be getting away.

next year I will get a two horse sled
it’s not fun with one horse almost dead
so we jingle the bells  and secure the straps   
laughing all the way with some  peppermint schnapps.

oh what fun it is to ride to grandma’s house we go
bringing lots of  gifts and a ho ho ho
hope she tossed out her old ragged apron
had to be worn during  the Magellan exploration

joy to the world we are finally getting here
came with  crackers and some silent night beer
few sips of that and you’re out for the night
too bad, you won’t see Rudolph so bright

oh come all ye faithful  to the big hearty dinner
stuffing is homemade , grandma’s  prize  winner
cranberry sauce running over the sides of my plate
hope when the turkey is carved it won’t deflate.

Hark the angels, the food is being served
grandma sure knows how to stay well preserved
so many years we travel the path  for yuletide
we don’t see her often enough due to the great divide.

well dinner is over and the bird won’t  squawk no more
looks like it stepped on a mine before hitting the floor
we gathered around the same old rustic tree
must have been made during the war at sea.

Gifts were passed out and grandma served the eggnog
had to be spiked, felt I was in a fog
the walls were rotating with visions of strobe lights
the tabernacle chorus sang Halleluiah & O’ Holy night.

this was the most wonderful visit all these years
I snuck out with three bottles of her secret cheers
grandma, thank you for the wonderful time
we’ll be back  next year  with another rhyme

Premium Member Four Cafes

Inside cooped up in my loft all autumn with writer’s block, it was time.  I arrived on New Year’s Day.  I wanted a fresh start, so I took a well-deserved hiatus.
        
Such grandeur, and glory, partaking in wine, croque monsieur and then champagne so decadent.  I met him in a bar café, the one alongside three others in a row!  He indulged my fancy with a Moulin Rouge cabaret, a real gentleman; flamboyant, debonair, and flippant.  Montgenevre mistakenly booked my room.  By chance of fortune, he overheard the desperation of my voice, cawing at the matradee.  “I know my way around.   We’ll find you a place to stay until they get their affairs in order.” 
        
I heard a voice whisper, “You can stay as long as you like, mon chéri.”  This morning I awoke alone, I remember late last night looking out his high-rise apartment window, down at the four cafés', to see what he sees, think what he thinks.  Long leggy locals, intoxicating femme's, drinking peppermint schnapps to tame the harsh chill of January.  Perusing today’s paper, I noticed his name, Emile Zola VI.   He’s a journalist?!  My muse reignited my passion to write.  A work in progress.  


A croque monsieur-is a hot sandwich made with ham and cheese.
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.

Where To Start

Where, oh where, oh where to start
Rum, Whiskey, Schnapps, Brandy
Can they mend a broken heart?
Mixed drinks? Nah, they taste like candy.

Rum, Whiskey, Schnapps, Brandy
Which ones efficacy is longer?
Mixed drinks? Nah, they taste like candy.
No, I need something stronger.

Which ones efficacy is longer?
One, two, three, NO, four
No, I need something stronger.
Closing time? Just drag me out the door.

One, two, three, NO, four
Can they mend a broken heart?
Closing time? Just drag me out the door.
Where, oh where, oh where to start

Author's Notes:
I am not condoning the abuse of alcohol.  I have not drank more than 1/2 of a wine cooler at any given day in approximately 10 years.  I believe discussions and decisions are a better way to cope.  This is just what my heart had to say last night.

Premium Member Czeslawa Kwoka

Czeslawa Kwoka              
             #26947 04/12/1943
             (c) London F. Bus

     Auschwitz Birkenau.
     Killing is hard work, 
     but the schnapps is fine.
     Czeslawa Kwoka the beautiful girl 
     with innocent eyes,
     She is Polish, Catholic and only forteen, 
     but they dont care.
     Beautiful girl tied to a chair
     Beautiful girl they hacked off her eyebrows 
     and her hair.
     Beautiful girl beaten and raped.
     SS killer awaits.
     Syringe full of Phenol,
     hidden behind his back.
     Beautiful child with fear in her eyes.
     Stares straight ahead,
     She fights and struggles 
     and wont co-operate.
     Click fires the camera shutter 
     but she wont smile,
     Damn it smile!  Lachein Schlampe, .
     The SS sneer and laugh. 
     Damn it smile! .
     They Punch and slap her 
     face again and again,
     Beautiful girl, defiant, angry and in pain.
     She doesn't smile, so they beat her again.
     If she smiles they will kill her,
     If she doesnt smile they will kill her anyway,
     Like the way they
     killed her mother yesterday.
     Her death will be the same.
     Click goes the camera again and again.
     Turn sideways, click.
     She is naked, blind folded 
     still tied to the chair.
     She doesnt see it coming
     The syringe full of phenol, 
     with a six inch needle
     they stabbed it into her heart,
     between the 4th and 5th intercostsl ribs.
     Injecting the Phenol to end her life.
     She passed out in 15 seconds, 
     She cried for her mother as she died.
     In thirty seconds she was dead.
     Then her naked body turned pink.
     Her name Czeslawa means Glory..
     One more dead, 250,000 children to go.
     Arbeit Macht Frie.

        [email protected]

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