Carousing Poems | Examples

On Crenshaw

on crenshaw 
carousing in cavernous cafes 
slicing into earthen skin
the meat dancers bring it to a boil
they murder the rug
they scrounge for earth worms
the fish head girls bob like sea birds
telephoning purple mermaids for a date 
they have no name tags and no flowers
they sing sad madrigals to the starfish 
they know this is the last pavane 
the final curtsy before night goes down
before morning arises under white sheets 
loosening the brain screws 
burning the instruction manuals
imbibing the nylon remonstrations
on crenshaw
a lonely woman croons 
an oozing torch song to the dirt people
they sit erect in a dark morgue 
chittering like insects
singing cool blues music to the meat dancers
they bring it to a boil 
with burgers bullets and beef cake 
genius guitar freak vivisects clawing time
he twangs his axe with a searing solo
he plays psychedelic lullabies to the dead 
his music torturing the earth worms

another abcedarian for fun

all automatic alligators arrive arrogantly
barely behave beautifully but brazenly
carousing with creepy cruddy crocodiles
desperately denying despicable wiles
effectively expediting expediency
forever forsaking fruit flies who flee
glaring at grazing gritty grouses
hijacking horrific herbivore’s handy houses
igniting ingenious iguanas in I-o-Way
jubilantly joining jerky jaguars along the way
kibitzing kinesthetic killers from Zion
lollygagging like lively luxurious mountain lions
marvelously marking multitude of mini monkeys
notoriously noting nefarious nodules of displease
ostentatiously opening overt outages in Oregon
providing panda putrid prey Paul just spit on
quarrelsome quicksand quail
rapidly reading registered mail
saying sassing sentences swiftly
turning terrific tarantulas toenails thickly
utilizing underwater undercurrents down under
verifying valid villans' voluptuous plunder
with wild willingness and witchy wonder
‘xacting ‘xactly ‘xtreme ‘xestentialism supreme
yelling youngster’s yips on front of the queen
zinging zealous zealots into zebras galore
end of this abcedarian poem, there is no more.

Cackling in the Cabaret

cabal cabbies cackling in the colorful cabaret
concealed conceited cadaver carousing cabbage day
carefree cantankerous canticle cleaning along the way
capsized catfish captain crooning as cabbies play

old gold cigarette girl

She comes across the screen dancing her boots off.
Kicking and carousing, showing us her sexy legs.
She is the Old Gold Cigarette Girl of course!
Men were men back in the sixties,
But women were “girls” – it put them on their children’s level
Because men could not take the vote back.

Marathon Men

   In America, Passover’s a marathon
     in Israel, it’s a sprint
   Two nights @ four cups of wine in the USA
     One night, four cups, in the Holy Land, recover in a day 

   All that anticipation in Israel
     one measly night, the bubble bursts
   In the Diaspora, two long nights of carousing
     ~ though some would say we’re cursed

Passionate

I evoke the yearning desire,
Temptation expressing such fire,
Passions rising from the dark night,
Like feelings the poets will write

Owning the splendor of the storm,
Ardors this strong… never lukewarm,
Stirring the soul’s thirst to excite
Like feelings the poets will write

Blazing on skies in hues of wonder,
Sweet melodies, wild as thunder,
Burning hunger, the heart’s delight,
Like feelings the poets will write

Dreaming of him, love I implore
Pleading for more…, him I adore
This romance is more than alright
Like feelings the poets will write

Love him like a child loves its fun
Passionate kisses just begun
Beneath dark skies, lit with starlight
Like feelings the poets will write

I conjure handsome dreams, rousing
Joy surer than his carousing
Warming our hearts by candlelight
Like feelings the poets will write

Not just passions, but real love
Bringing more hope than I’d think of
Ever shining beneath moonlight
Like feelings the poets will write

Spirit Carousing

can't see again
cross you like a whip
just like that
quick like cheetah 
cross him
hippo comes out
cheshire around you
around again
cross again whip like

Not Patriots--Amoeba Types

The insurrectionists of January 6 are NOT patriots!
They are criminals of the lowest amoeba-types
Most patriots were at work improving the G.N.P.
Not carousing and malingering to air their gripes.

Can you imagine an American president colluding,
Encouraging rabble-rousers to storm the Capitol,
Giving tacit approval to hanging his vice-president?
In my opinion, his behavior was clearly lunatical!

And, he is still clamoring for the nation’s attention
Bloviating far and wide, spouting despicable lies,
I’m flabbergasted that so many are on his team
Celebrating and cheering on our nation’s demise.

A long-time presidential aficionado, I hasten to say,
That Donald Trump’s picture among our presidents
Is utterly disgraceful, a travesty of the worst kind,
He should be prosecuted to law's fullest extents.

Written July 30, 2022

The Mourning Bird

I know why the caged bird sings
The bird is not signing but crying
For the daily loss of its parents.

Birds are asked to leave the nest for their survival at an early age.

Mother nor Father are not there to educate their off- spring through 18 years of life while it roost at home.

No birthday parties
No date nights
No porch light letf on until a wild night of carousing.

The caged birds cries when he was abandoned  and rejected and forced to leave the safety of the home.

Advent of Spring

Advent Of Spring



Reemerging sunlight magically illuminate a darkened alpine summit

Cloud lingered for an eternity now banished amidst surviving spruce

Spores through withered ground sprout anew like a recurring comet

Pristine water inundates bank of anonymous river nourishing moose



Above urban landscape people taste remnants of a variety of smells

Relishing April showers children emulate elfin leprechauns carousing

Cabs defying limousines vie for fares portraying overzealous gazelles

Memories of winter beneath a bluer sky heralds the advent of spring











01/13/2018
West Palm Beach
Florida USA

Jesus Teaching: Becoming Vigilant

Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing 
And drunkenness 
          And the anxieties of daily life

 And that day catch you by surprise like a trap
 For that day (of Jesus' Coming) will assault everyone who lives on the Face of the earth

           Be vigilant at all times and pray that you have the strength 

To escape the tribulations that are imminent 
And to stand before the Son of Man [Taken from LK 21:34-36]

Cat Ween Party

Annual Cat-ween party was in full swing.
Bells were chiming off with a ding-dong-ding.
Cats were bobbing for catnip apples sublime.
October trees cringed as young cats did climb.

Dancing and carousing in front of the moon.
Witches watched hungrily as ghosts did a swoon.
Cats as magical, mystical familiars are well known.
Their herbs and spells daintily home-grown.

Ghosts and goblins tried to crash the Cat-ween.
They were escorted by Dracula, never again seen.
The vampires and gargoyles laughed in delight.
Loving the Cat-ween on this Halloween night!

Mother Russia Versus Disneyland

Basic training was no joke for my daughter
Her troop was under the jurisdiction of Mother Russia.
Mother Russia, their drill sergeant was five foot four.
My daughter is five foot ten. She could not stop smiling.
He did not appreciate her height.
Not highly successful; it was like Tweety Bird dressing down Sylvester.

I sent her seventeen Elvis postcards; fifteen landed on the same day.
Mother Russia’s policy was if you get more than two pieces of mail you must sing a song in front of the troop.
She was supposed to sing an Elvis song but she did not know any.
The whole troop had to sing one and coax her along.
It did not help that the troop next door was carousing most of the time.
They were being referred to as “Disneyland”.

Noise and Silence

Beneath my mind the demon danced,
  He reaps away my brain
With awkward sounds and sights untrue
   Not of the homely grain.

It's party dim tonight I think ,
  But things are moving all,
I clearly see his evil spree,
  While from the cliff I fall.

For long I fall, yet I reached not,
  The lowly plain recedes,
Headlong I veer, it makes me steer
   Down to a small crevice.

What will retrieve my dislodged frame?
  Those whom I knew have left,
From somewhere sprang a sudden bang
   Reminds me I'm bereft.

The clamour of a tavern reached
  My ears, I stand upright,
What thing just screeched, I was bewitched
  By that carousing sight.

I cannot hear the people speak,
  The gestures block my eyes,
A humming sound does well redound
  To tell the same, same lies.

I move my limbs, yet they refuse,
  Who stole the old, old bliss?
Fixed and numb I stayed alone,
  The voices went amiss.

If He Was Provost of a Prison

If he was the provost of a prison
He would open all of the cells
Let the prisoners decide among themselves
Who would live and who would die
They would dance into the yard
Laughing and carousing
Except for the small ones
Survival of the fittest
So aren’t you glad
he is not the provost of a prison?

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