Local breweries abound
And in New York there can be found
Beers from Brooklyn and from Queens
And all the boroughs in-betweens.
My spouse and I, both city-born,
Love I.P.A.’s, so we were torn
About which brew would be the best,
So we devised a little test.
We purchase bottles and some cans
To see if we’d be equal fans
Of breweries from Brooklyn (me)
Or from the Bronx (his pedigree).
Though neither one deserved a rave,
The Hazy Bronx one was the fave
So I’ll concede it should be praised,
But I prefer where I was raised.
Dear Lord God the almighty who owns all
Grow him feathers to flying higher and not fall
Spark your guiding light
Whenever he is faced fright
Make this day be his first
Forgive all days sins nursed
Provide more grace to travel with you
Through his best and aging blue
Open his heart to impart more of Your counsels
Feeding on the richly garnished morsels
Gospels and guide his feet through sinking sand
To live the best for all troubles withstand
Wrap them in mercy
Mold all in grace
Usher the lingering hope's controversy
To shepherd his troubling pace
All these I ask
Oh Lord for your humble servant
The one that sees praise his task
And go all days so fervent
Nevertheless, not worthy
Make him creditworthy
Truly, he is mortal
In heaven, make him chortle
Happy birthday, dear friend
Enjoy your day off worries
And in music do blend
Refined and chilled breweries
BEER FESTIVAL
It happens once a year and it’s all in the name of fun.
You could call it a sacred event as people who attend
are devoutly practising their religion.
They come from far and round to this beer festival
to drink their favourite ales from small obscure breweries.
Some will like what they taste, you notice it as soon
as you come through the door.
Now ten pints later we are ready to leave…
shaky but surely we head for the door and home.
When I wake up in the morning with a bad head
and look at my leaflets and cheap t-shirt,
I’ll smile at the fun I had and wish next years here sooner.
The ship has docked in Sydney harbour officials
have come and gone now the ship is eerily silent,
yet noisy slamming of doors and someone taking
a shower…laughter. How can I sleep tonight with
the engine stopped? How can I read and not hear
human bravura? Sod it all, someone strums a guitar,
and I hear the fizzing sound of canned beer flipped
open. No this can´t go on better go ashore, a bar,
drink a few schooners, try joining the hubbub of man
at ease and not think of the sea, dolphins blue,
white crested waves and the hum of the sea goddess,
that teases me for my cowardice for not taking
the plunge and be as beautiful as the seascape of my
impossible dreams. Easy, tomorrow will be a mundane
Tuesday and we, if the dockers do not strike, should
be bound for Brisbane where the beer tastes the same,
of amalgamated breweries. Yet, despite my lack of fine
culture, I saw Sidney opera house casting dignified light
into the bay…
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