Best Vodka Poems
It has taken me two months to write about this
It was me, you and him
All of us in my place
I was drinking margarita, you and him were drinking vodka
Eventually you persuaded me to drink some vodka too
We were all in a merry mood, excited and heightened
You danced a lot that night, you always had your sharp zumba moves to show
At one point you wanted us to flash our boobs, for the boy
I firmly turned down the request because I knew it was wrong
Girl, you were really drunk
It started as a joke, proceeded to be an argument and eventually it was over
And the boy just sat there
I remember our first encounter, it was in a library
We loved books so much
We eventually became very close friends
We spent our spare college times together, inseparable
At one point we had one scratch in our relationship but eventually all was resolved
We were back again to our giggles and wiggles
Girl, I will always remember your camping stories
They brought a lot of happy tears to our eyes
Your many travel adventures and the pictures you send
Through you, I traveled the world
Your rock climbing tales
Your diverse taste of cuisine, like a cigar it was fancy with a flavorful star
I will always remember the parties we met, they added humor to our lives
I will always remember you, though now gone from my life, I will always thank God for the days we shared
VODKA AND LIME
light and heavenly distilled to silence night
personal dark secret delight
drifting thoughts spinning time
on substance abuse sublime
brain freeze back
lime
Vodka smack
another filtered climb
every poem clothed in rhyme
pure imagination takes to flight
light and heavenly distilled to silence night
A BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER QUIET
‘Tis the infancy of yet another day
And I hear it crying for its bottle now
But I know the sun is no child anyway
It can be a sadistic son and it will teach you how
I live under a tunnel on the highway’s right
Yet wrong I may ever be
I found an old mattress the other night
so discomfort doesn’t bother me
Today yesterday is but an artifact
An ancient find to hunters of the past
But it seems the sun and Satan have some sort of pact
Alas, whatever it is will probably hold fast
I’m lucky enough to live with my lover
She’s agreed to live free along with me
And often when it rains we needn’t run for cover
The umbrella is our love to be
The term “shelter” means different things to different people I know
Shelter to some might mean a mansion in France
To people like me and my lover “shelter” means just somewhere else to go
Moved by an emphatic embrace and the lives we each enhance
To us rain, cold or snow doesn’t mean we get up and go
It’s the tortuous sun we know will eventually come
So we weather the weather knowing all we need to know
For my lover and I may be homeless but neither of us is dumb
Now let’s get back to the infant son and the fear of it’s adolescence
Because as we know children can often be rambunctious and rude
In the heat of mid-day we suffer an adult son’s insolence
And being fully grown it only treats us kindly when its in the mood
© 2011.….free cee!
Vodka is the devil, and right now I'm in hell
I drank too much last night it isn't hard to tell
Come out for a few drinks, my friends said it would be fun
Soon after, a drink turned into me telling this girl I just met she might be the one
It never goes well when your drinks start mixing
I become someone else once the brandy kicks in
One minute I was sending my ex a horny text
The next minute I was telling this girl in the club I want her to be my next
Now I'm drinking a few cans of strongbow
So the short journey home will soon turn into me going down the wrong roads
But you never care about going the wrong way
Because you're listening to your favourite song play
You're mumbling your words and trying to speak in a polite manner
But now girls who look like Susan Boyle start to look like Rihanna
So you shoot your shot and don't mind if it goes wrong or right
Because the drink means you're in for the longest night
Enjoy your life and have fun and please don't take this poem wrong
But can someone tell Ariana Grande that in my arms is where she should belong
We're all young once and drink too much at times
If you're an inexperienced drinker then please eat before you drink and you will be fine
I was drunk when I wrote this if you couldn't tell
Most my poetry talks about depression but lately I feel well
This was wrote as a joke and meant in a funny way
So I hope no one is offended by what I had to say
wish we could
explain the pain we
feel in our hearts..
In our thoughts ..
in our tears when
we remember you…
Our tears are
named…our thoughts
are written..
With all the
beautiful memories
and smiles of you…
You gave us joy and
happiness.. warmth
and love..
You were our son…and
a loyal brother..a
true friend..
Who never bothered
us even if you were
in pain..
Never killed a
innocent life even
if it’s the nature’s
way..
You were always
special in your own
way..
The prayers we
prayed together and
the songs we sang..
The ball games we
had with the runs in
our yard..
With the rain drops
you played and at
the pool you rest..
Memories are
strongly held and
cherished always…
May be in years to
come we may have a
doggie pet..
But no one will ever
take your place..and
it will never be the
same..
Our dearest vodka…we
truly deeply miss
you..
Missing the smiles
you gave when ever
you saw us..
Feels like our world
is torn apart.. we
Feel the emptiness
in our house and in
our hearts..
But thank you Vodka
for the beautiful
six years you gave
us..
With lots of
happiness and love
we never felt it was
never enough..
You were a part of
our family..a part
in our lives..
We will always love
you and remember
you..
Now that you are
gone to heaven to be
with god…
You will always live
in our heart with
all the memories of
yours..
We love you and miss
you our beloved
Vodie Vodka..!
Written by – Dilupa
Wijegunasekara
(27th October 2013)
Three hundred sixty minutes and
sixteen shots later,
and my heart is still unraveling
inside of my chest.
Four hundred eighty minutes
and eight cans of Redbull later,
and my bloodshot eyes are
begging for sleep.
Five hundred forty minutes and
a bottle of vodka later,
I'm staring at trembling fingers and
dying to hold you.
Six hundred minutes and
half a pack of cigarettes later,
and I'm straining to remember
your name.
And that's alright with me.
LASHES TO ASHES IN SLOW MOTION
Might I please present myself as a prologue to death
Because unless I am terribly wrong…….
I can’t have too terribly long
And I’ve been lazy too long
But I don’t have too long to act crazy
Incredibly and indisputably inane
And drive other people institutionally insane
My days dry up like clay caskets caught in the Cancun sun
Leading to nights that usually end by me ending up with whiskey whisking away yet another weary evening
Witnessed and coerced by two dead soldiers made of glass
Who kicked my ass the night before
When fright came before a blackout
And darkness led to a morning of foul tasting coffee and a donut of doubt
What secret could the night before grasp tightly in its clutch?
Will people say my performance was a bit too much?
Is there a lady somewhere that I wouldn’t recognize if her eyes were made of fire with whom I let desire declare two bodies bare?
And precisely what did she and I share?
Was it something controlled by a lack of control?
Did we meld in mind, body and soul?
Did seduction succeed in its mission to maraud our minds and give making love the meaning it was meant to have?
Is there a lady out there who borrowed a snippet from my life and may have been complicit in the death of a dream?
Did we watch the world fly in fast forward together?
And sometimes in slow motion in order that our time together would be extended by the exclusion of the relativity of time
And a second could sing for as long as it takes a wedding bell’s voice to fade into the hollowness of night
And a minute might meander down the middle of a mercurial moment and remain there until you sigh deeply and chase the stars away for the morning’s sake
And oh to the music of mysticism your countenance is wont to make
Sung by a choir of questions and a chorus of conclusions
While a flute would fleetingly fade into forgotten confusion
Alas, my days decline by death’s design and do more than demoralize me
My only request is that you disregard my genius and charming manner and please don’t memorialize me
Nor commemorate me in any way
Simply cremate me and toss me away!
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~
Vodka not good!
Vodka is not for Jesus -
Only for Jude,
Merry people!
Please, don't drink vodka,
Only eat and think -
What is better if you are not vodka -
To drink?
Look at your children and talk -
What is good, sorry, for our work:
To Egypt with so big vodka as piramid,
Or to eat?
If we are people -
Don't keep all vodka,
But only for shave -
Good toilet vodkas
And these vodkas all us will save...
Gentlemen!
It is cold
In this world
But we are good
Standing on foot
And very brave
Only with cucumber
If we have!
Voting is the best vodka
******* ever drank
Gave 'em equality liquor dreams,
had 'em thinking they're something that they ain't
At least not in the eyes
of non-polite alt right society
Their thinking is:
being crammed in the back of a bus,
getting shipped off to another war for democracy
is the proper place for ******* to be
Black sardines go well with vodka, don't you agree
C'est la vie
Voting is the best vodka
coloreds ever drank
Gave 'em hangover equality dreams,
had 'em believing they're something that they ain't
At least not in the minds
of polite leftist intellectual society
Their thinking is:
create paternalistic policies to keep 'em pacified,
while allowing 'em to sacrifice their lives
in another war for democracy
Then try their next social experiment guilt-free ...
the coloreds will, of course, thank them properly
Black test tubes are the best glasses
for drinking vodka, don't you agree
C'est la vie
I ain't never been much of a drinker,
much less have a taste for voting vodka
Those poor comrades of disillusionment and discontent,
still have black Russian fantasies,
of which crack pipe dreams are made of
This colorless liquor originated in Russia
The numbers of drinks it can make are a plethora.
It is distilled from potato mash, or from wheat or rye.
Its popularity is something no one can deny.
The name comes from “little water” in the Russian language
This charcoal-filtered spirit is paid global homage.
This has been consumed by many in each century.
It is produced worldwide at any distillery.
This liquor is one that has great versatility.
It’s served neat, or mixed with a variety of juices.
This distilled beverage has a host of great uses.
Vodka is found in common drinks like a Bloody Mary,
or found in some wild concoctions that seem quite contrary.
It comes in proof strength of eighty or one hundred.
For many connoisseurs, it’s a spirit that’s beloved.
Scores of recipes may need vodka in any way,
like every person, animal or object in this world;
water is essential, a vital need to everyone’
without it, life would not be possible to survive.
Its essence dispel the dryness and death
It’s a potent creation, a number one support;
that brings to life and sustains its strength
for one who lives and copes with many things.
What a great need for everyone to have water
and survive with it, along with other things;
in a perpetual state, water makes a difference,
it’s a source with its essence that means life.
In all settings, time, history, and situations,
their link to life-giving wonders and events
reminds everyone of God’s gift to his people
that He, in John’s gospel, is a living water.
Note:
Vodka: It is a Russian word, a diminutive of “water” (before you adopt an ironic smile, be aware that “whiskey” comes from the Gaelic for “water of life”).
Vodka seems to be part of the Russians.
It's like order and structure for Prussians.
Vodka opens the mind,
but it makes one inclined
to fall over and suffer concussions.
How the Irish delight in their drink
is straightforward and touching I think.
Sean and Mary McGinnis
raise their glasses of Guinness,
and then gulp to oblivion's brink.
I’ve been told that the Finns take to boozing.
They love Kossu — a drink of their choosing.
This tradition is old
for in Finland it's cold,
so their habit can merit excusing.
you are the sick
the disgust in the swallow
the cringe in the choking
we are the same in our affections
cheap and quick
taste and spit
we are the same in our forgiveness
heavy and grieving
a bathroom floor bereavement
a curved spine casualty
empty
unflattering and unforgetting in all your doing
i lie heavy
a fish bowl of a stomach
a stomach of a body
solemnly swaying
you were the stranger at the first funeral
the child poking my body thinking i'll open my eyes
not knowing the ghosts would come for you too
or how the bitterness would travel
or how quickly you must stumble to stay safe
you held my hand
dragged me to the cold tile
dropped me to see if i would bounce or break
bent me over the sink
and drenched me unholy
you were the sheets suffocating me that night
the pillows i've chewed through
you were the fault of it all
the downhill spiral
and the homesick
and the earthquakes
and the heartbreaks
the crying and the spilled milk
you are the hunter
rifle in hand
coward in eyes
you were the wind chasing that bullet
you were the stranger at every funeral to come
picking and prying and smacking and slicing
and sometimes i worried you would not show up
would not tower over my body
watch me gagged and restrained
but you always came
thought that being dizzy made me prettier
you never missed a party
if you knew i'd wake up bruised
Plastic Vodka
Cheap vodka from a plastic bottle
Burns my throat
Stops the pounding in my heart beat
Slack dream the heady wishings
Of a million burning kisses
Stammers on a single glass rim
Ah… why should we be apart
And the air just smells of tinder
In the smoke of you and me
You lit this kindle fire
That flames inside of me
And I sit here in the swimming
Of the things that should really be
Sleeping in the vodka
Staring at a blank and empty screen
This heady night won’t be over
Till I have drown inside your arms
This taste of you that lingers
Sweet drug upon my tongue
The slow breath which just hangs there
In a cigarettes spiral stair
Slips your body and your beauty
Into the seconds of my blood
I go tumbling on an ice cube
To etch the drawing of your heat
I sit here in the daze of vodka
But I am kneeling at your feet
All the voices in a bar room
In stiletto heels you sit
And this overcome of passion
Has me lost inside of you
Why didn’t I count the consequence
Was I stupid to the loss
Perhaps the pass of fate perchance
Made me ignorant of the cost
Still I would sell my soul for a lie
If it gave me a clue to you
Cheap vodka from a plastic bottle
Burns my throat
Gives a voice to the silent burning
Stops the yearning in my heart
Emptied to the dregs
To stop another sleepless night
And I am succoured to the teat
Of another vodka night
Have I managed to water down
The flame inside of me
Disguised the white fire
In this late nights drunken poetry
Or reached the bottom of the bottle
Where I drowned my misery
I can’t express how much I love you
Through my body and my limbs
I can’t touch you in the touch
Of intertwining skins
So I lay here in the fumbling stupor
Of the one last man left to drink
The bold and cheap replacement
And plastic vodka of my drink
They watered down the vodka
I barely got a buzz
I bet I’d pass the breath test
If picked up by the fuzz
I’m checkin’ on the gin now
It’s tastin’ mighty thin
I guess they mixed that bathtub
With “pond”, then poured it in
The shots ain’t hitten’ either
The whiskey’s barely brown
I’m spendin’ my whole paycheck
And I’m about to drown
They watered down the vodka
And now, I gotta pee
The next time I’m a drinkin’
Here comes B.Y.O.B.