Best Tankard Poems
I wandered lonely as a cloud
Captive to the wind and season
Storms around me raged with fury
I was becalmed without reason
Oh, the wind was fickle some days
And at times it would cease to blow
Then I would meander softly
Unpropelled and no place to go
'Twas the sea and it kept me there
The domain of mermaids and whales
I was akin to Davey Jones
And belonged in seafaring tales
The wind in the mast sails afloat,
Is enough for those of us so chosen
A salty yarn of days long gone
Of a trip with a drunken bosun
Oh, I would go back to the seas
If I were of able body
All I ask's a fellow rover
And a full tankard of toddy
1-29-20
Contest: Famous Poetic Lines That Inspire
"I wandered lonely as a cloud' by William Wordsworth
Sponsor: Silent One
Categories:
tankard, sea,
Form:
Rhyme
Me slob clob be a dirty grey
me school an open alleyway
no sissy pens; we wield 'em guns
me canna count but me's no dunce
Clompers bare; me sneakers hocked
jiggle barefoot roll and rock
breathe in deep me dead-rat whiff
and suck me wacky backy spliff
Workavoidic be me graft
pleasure be a tankard draught
a willing gape to lard me wand
in Pete or Rex or busty blonde
Me rolled the slapper in the buff
caught the clap; she's up the duff
me downs no drink not alcoholic
comfy in me world shambolic
*******************************
Categories:
tankard, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
(All right you scallywags of questionable seaworthiness, we begin with an up-tempo step-liveliness.)
Send him aloft, high into the crow's nest,
He'll keep watch with his keen young sight.
Let me out, the wind is a-freshenin',
Roll me up in the middle of the night.
Over to the hatch and have a check within the hold, lad,
So we know that down below, the ship is nice and tight.
Roll into the galley, and fetch the cook potatoes,
But throw 'em in the water if they've got the bleedin' blight.
Roll me out into the wet heart o' the glossy sea,
Hand me down a whoppin' tankard o' rum,
Tomorrow, on the hunt we'll be,
The Captain knows where that foreign vessel's from.
Roll me into our sheltered island hideaway,
We can sleep a while before dawn's early fight.
Give us one drink but we're gonna cut it off right there,
Gotta wake up in the mornin,' gotta wake up feelin' right.
Roll me out, now we're after a prize, boys,
Watch out for the shallows in the middle of the bight,
Roll me away, don't let them hit us broadside,
They'll soon surrender to our mighty pirate fright.
(Okay, me hearties, slow it down a shark's whisker...)
Now we're all as happy as the humpback whale,
We'll treat the prisoners fairly, or it's impolite,
The sun slips below the rail, the briny dark will then prevail,
The crew's asleep, full fathoms deep, of moonlight take a bite.
Roll me easy, there's peace upon the ocean,
The softest wind, and stars a-burnin' bright,
Drift through the water with that slow rockin' motion,
When we make it back to shore, our tales they will write.
(Avast ye now, slow it on down until yer barely makin' a wake...)
Roll me quiet when I think about my lost girl,
Nothin's bigger then than me a-wonderin' why,
Roll me back because I can't forget the dead boy,
And turn your head away, before I start to cry.
Categories:
tankard, adventure, ocean,
Form:
Quatrain
Christmas was fabulous, so full of festive cheer
Santa brought presents; his sleigh pulled by six reindeer
Hubby loved the glass tankard he got for his beer
I got a pretty jumper it’s made of cashmere,
and a book of poetry by William Shakespeare
Soon champagne corks popped to welcome in the New Year
Cousin Billy swung from the crystal chandelier -
you should have heard him howl when he fell on his rear!
January blues are filling people with fear
Huge credit card bills are beginning to appear
If the sum isn’t paid the penalties are severe
It may take till next Christmas for the debt to clear!
12 X 12 Monorhyme Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
Checked with how many syllables
Blue Monday is the third Monday in January and is said to be the most depressing day of the year. The weather is often dull, the festivities are over, and the bills from Christmas start to come in and New Year's resolutions have often failed!
01~16~17
Categories:
tankard, anxiety, christmas, depression, humorous,
Form:
Monorhyme
seating screwed in the soundly pub
the tankard half tilted to his mouth
watching above his surged spectacles
Two brown ladies
sweep by, swaying hips in desire
serving drinks to yearning customers.
Is it admiration that starts in him??
or the reality that he has no peace?
he matches his eyes with her motions.
Back to the counter,
she notices the suggestive eyes
staring at her with a feeling of awe
she initiates a smile.
Swept by the wind of unrest and
deluged by a sense of yearning,
He rises and moves towards her
wondering what to say
but his feelings dare
suspended in awe like a lovers kiss...
the feeling so foreign
He lifts her arms with motionless lips
tries to utter "LOVE YOU"
but he swallows his words.
Through telepathy, the two souls unite,
shared feelings in the air
love to declare
with a promise of marriage
that restores the courage.
They begin anew
how he had no clue
a love now true,
a new year's gift to who
seemed so blue.
Categories:
tankard, love, new year, new
Form:
Narrative
Dozy with Cider
The tavern was quiet but for old farmer John,
when the Kings rider strode in demanding a bed,
He ordered his ale and sat next to the old sage,
“Where be all the villagers?” he said.
Farmer John took a sip from his tankard and smiled,
“What brings you to our village, good sire?”
The rider frowned, then with his head tucked down,
His eyebrows rose higher and higher!
“This village gives birth to babes every year
They, being born all on the same day!
And ‘tis known all about, folk here are healthy and strong
And everyone happy and gay!”
The old man grinned, wily,
“Aye sire, ‘tis true. Now, you fill my tankard to its peak,
Many a slip, twixt cup and lip
an’ i will give you the answers you seek.”
“On this day sire, when the season’s mists do rise
to the warmth of the September sun,
The young lads an’ lasses stand ready, in Jackson’s field,
their race of the day has begun.
They run to the orchard, climbing ladders high,
pickin’ apples to throw in to their sack.
Their young knees bending with the weight
of the fruit hanging, from their back.
When they’ve finished their task and the cart is full,
the sun is low in the sky,
An’ the Taverner welcomes ‘em with bread an’ cheese,
an’ their spirits are soaring high!
An’ they drink the fruits of their labour with glee,
then hand in hand, sleep they, in the hedgerows you see!
Every babe born the following year,
is born a healthy, happy mite,
For under those hedgerows, were created love, an’ a natural joy,
A Royal beginning, for girl an’ boy!
An’ the heart of this ritual, if the truth be told,
Is the liquid you drink now sire, our Autumn Gold!"
Categories:
tankard, birth, culture, drink, england,
Form:
Rhyme
Tryouts starring musical prodigies
and/or an attendant conductor
attempt to approach ambient chorus
divinely exhibited from Gaia's handiwork
heavenly invoking kapellmeister's magnificent nonchalant outlook
piquantly, quintessentially, repertoire sensately striking
unmatched vast wisdom yielding, zephyr air albeit creativity
engineered from groundswell harmony
juxtaposed, kindled, linkedin,
manifesting noteworthy opulent philharmonic recording
transcribing universal veritable webbed wide world.
Wunderkinds yield Ziggurat acme approximated asymptote
bequeathing celestial Doppelganger Earthly emulations
formulating fractal glinting highlighting
ineffable joie de vivre jostling, keen kindling,
la la land legerdemain lifting logic
lording Ludwig (Josef Johann) Wittgenstein.
?
Yelping zoological apostle Al affidavit Gore handily
heaping hubristically invocation jolting kickstart measures
nipping nixed noblesse oblige opera
quickening quotidian rapid ruination sans supreme
teetering upended venerated wise with acumen
arithmetical Benoit Mandelbrot
chasing far-fetched ideas
lightyears menacing nihilism purging ogres opportunistically
resplendently ripping revered tankard tipping unstoppably
vanquishing varietal whipsawing wonderful wrapt yawning youngsters
warfare written wrought yanking zestfully crushing environmental family
granting Herculean instant karma
malevolent, opprobrious pronouncement
quiet riot silencing severely tragic ubiquitous vicious wreckage
yikyaks apemen cleft Earth.
*************************************************
Future foragers denounce capitalistic bamboozlers aggression
zealots wrought trashing quintessential naked kingdoms issue
flotsam coagulates zonal wastelands torquing quality NON
killing habitats Earth bleached yellowed voodoo ruins.
Categories:
tankard, age, allegory, angst, confusion,
Form:
A maiden fair sang through a sunflower field
on a warm autumn day with the wind in her hair
A melody wafted aloft on the breeze
as a cloud frolicked by with so little a care
She smiled as she hummed with a skip in her step
for the song she was singing she knew from the heart
An old happy tune that she sang as a child
when the flowers would bloom and the springtime would start
Her voice it did carry to valleys below
in a magical form of a heavenly grace
The villagers heard it in echoes above
for the sound of her voice brought a smile to their face
They danced by a fountain the town did provide
in their favourite clothes made of cotton and wool
Drinking a brew that was local to them
with a tankard in hand and a comfortable stool
She walked down the hill in a white flowing gown
on a path often used by the children at play
To sing once again this old song from the past
as the others joined in on this wonderful day
She then spread her wings made of silver and gold
and ascended the sky to a place she did love
As the villagers waved saying someday return
for her wonderful voice was a gift from above
Categories:
tankard, song,
Form:
Rhyme
It is not a mind altering parade of substances that questions a rotting ship. It is not a threefold tankard buried in an Abyssinia besom of beads for only a technological advance actually shows such a word and such a word is neither an acute angle or a plastic xylophone. Booming bionic bulls bringing bacon backgrounds. An acute angle is not a cute horsefly. And an obtuse angle is too stubborn. Quite a threshold to compete against especially in strong winds but then elephants, giraffes, alligators, and snoring boars often cross river pathways. Don't they? Well really a soup and a spoon? Why not use a fork? A fork is very proud of it's prongs and who would prong an atomic carrot on a battalion of hereditary deeds? Surely if a pickled onion can sing a beautiful aria then a galloping gherkin can play bongos in a classical rendition. The plant thought it was a train but in fact it was the serene sound of a pig snoring. Ten loaves of bread, a silky cape, an atomic pistol and a shroud of golden oranges but not in a halo. Ok then. On a beach. Hahahahaha pushing pineapples over a cliff in a stormy teacup is akin to a lemon in a mud bath. Let it not be said that all potatoes are a wandering timeline. And standing as a tree on a motorway is about as hazardous as learning to play golf in a bathroom. And now the trees are waving. Good. Xxxxx incontinence Z z Z Z
Categories:
tankard, animal, baseball, basketball, beautiful,
Form:
Jo King loved frothy tankards of beer
Which she drank every day of the year
Interred in a keg
She swallowed each dreg
So her tombstone reads, "Wish you were here!"
Categories:
tankard, culture, drink, grave, humor,
Form:
Limerick
The armies they are massing:
They line and ring every shore, every strand bristling with
The deadliest of weapons;
The tocsin should be sounded,
And every cannon is round at its bore.
Fires rage unchecked and unopposed throughout the
Entire world, and mankind, in part, prepares hastily and needlessly
Yet more and crueler,
Harsher atrocities, cruelties
And machines and weapons of horrific war.
Bloody folly and empty vainglory to
Embark imprimis upon the roads to all-out war,
I greatly fear that these are man's fate,
And though I attempt to raise the alarm
With this writing of mine, yet I fear I may be too late!
"Too late! Too late! This, then, is mankind's fate!" It cruelly mocks,
Crows and caws as the ebon raven,
Croaking its dread prophecies in my ever-attentive ear.
It chills even my waiting
Tankard of frothy, frosty beer;
Yet no beer-drinker am I,
No quaffer and lover of ales and lagers.
And still I hold a lonely vigil,
And keep a silent, motionless, breathless watch on the swiftly storm-filling sky.
5. Making steel-enclosed aeronautical, aerodynamical vessels sealed
And brimming only with overmuch indiscriminating death:
Dual-edged, oiled with and soaking in an abundant poison bringing
Vicious death to the poisoner as well as the poisoned,
Man is a violent, self-destructive fool: Lame, impotent,
Obsessed and somehow impatient of vilest death.
Death for his opponent, his manufactured,
Fancied nemesis:
Nay; his NEMESES:
Yet not for himself, this horrid death he dreams of bringing to an imagined enemy only.
Additionally, he hath built and placed all his faith in titanic weaponry of
Awesome destructiveness,
Possessed of the devastating potency of an angry, rampaging god.
And these vile implements of utterest extirpation;
Encased within a very nation of steel tubular;
They are as wayward, incorrigible,
Marauding, plundering, malicious gargantuan
Monsters:
Great, cyclopean giants of a horribly puissant
Destroying fury
Bringing only disaster upon all heads;
Anarachic, ultra-liberal in there dark and evil slaughterousness:
Slaying even their maker, having no loyalty, cold and cruel:
Delighting only in death, wanton destruction, infamy and cruelty.
No man nor nation should possess these terrible weapons,
Yet too many do.
Categories:
tankard, absence, adventure, africa, allegory,
Form:
Oh great Tavern!
Beautiful and wondrous inn
What countless prizes
Lie in wait inside!
Your vault keeps from us
Our treasured Mead, Wine, and Beer!
Oh great Mead!
Pour from the keg
Fill up your tankard
Drink to the Coin brothers!
Toast to your Paymaster
Salute your paying prince!
Oh great Wine!
Delicate to the sip
That is, to the gentile
For us Landsknecht!
Red wine is the blood
And the taste is our communion!
Oh great Beer!
How we hear your cry
Begging to be quaffed
You give us such a fright!
Way into the night
Slipping and falling!
Oh great Coin!
Our most beloved
What we’d kill for
All hail the Paymaster!
For his contracts bring
Our treasured Mead, Wine, and Beer!
Categories:
tankard, corruption, drink, friendship, military,
Form:
Free verse
God has a great goal,
Only honesty in each poll
That will save our soul
God golf is playing
Ball and soul started straying
Bad words was saying
When ship had anchored
Miracle from God occurred
To us served tankard
God did determine
Are covered with much vermin
Must be a German
Just so happens that Horn family
originated in Rothenberg, Germany.
Oh, and last one.
Categories:
tankard, allegory, analogy,
Form:
Haiku
As I sit down
Not knowing what to write,
Thoughts flitter through my head-
Nothing with much height.
Should I write a poem about a lonely girl?
Or someone newly freed?
How about something silly,
Rowdy men drunk over a tankard of mead?
But wouldn’t people listen more to stanzas full of power?
Something to gain strength from, as-
“Stand up for what you believe”,
“Be a strong, tall tower”.
Well, hope is always good
After a stumble, trip or fall-
Doesn’t everyone want to know
There’s a god listening above all?
“A smile means a thousand words”-
Hmm… that sounds great…
Maybe a poem about a grin
That changed a person’s fate?
The funny thing is that
Looking back at my notebook-
Filled with doodles and sappy lines
Maybe I can get something out of it.. just look.
The lesson is written plainly here,
As you can clearly see.
Its not what I write about
But the lessons you gain from me.
Who cares if you write a poem
About a little girl or some men.
Its about what the author wants you to internalize
The power of the pen.
Inspiration isn’t something written down,
It’s not something easily done;
It takes hard work to change-
Not taken care of with a pun.
Within each of us is a power,
Hidden In place you never knew.
The will to change is a gift alone-
As strength comes in every color and hue.
Don’t sit around waiting
For others to write your story.
Stand up, take action, make a difference-
Go out and create your own glory.
Be strong like a mountain,
Stand firm like steel.
Follow in what you believe in –
It’s your hand of cards, your deal.
Categories:
tankard, inspiration,
Form:
Rhyme
I sit beside the fire
Tankard of mead in my hand
Thinking of the comming battle
And what i do understand
I know i may die in this
Fighting for life and limb
Seeing my enemys charge me
Never letting my wits grow dim
I know the future is approaching
Where i must stand and fight
For my axe is here gleaming
And my sheild is in my hand
The battle is almost upon me
My blood boils in my vains
I stand and let out a warcry
As i will never be ashamed
My heart starts to beat faster
And my soul crys out his name
Odin please protect me
For i will always fight in your name
Categories:
tankard, faith
Form: