For Natasha, written: 08-23-2026
steamed, beheaded jumbo shrimp
deveined awful good
size clearly misunderstood
freeze burn soon seen
off tasting, dunked in
cocktail sauce
yum!
My aunt complained at “cocktail hour,”
All they served was juice,
The definition of this drink,
Sans alcohol, too loose.
She’s in assisted living now,
At almost 98;
With many neighbors wheelchair-bound,
She simply can’t relate.
Her balance is an issue, though,
And even with her phone,
It’s clear that, though she disagrees,
She shouldn’t be alone.
I can’t imagine being told
That others can decide
That where you’ve lived no longer is
The place where you’ll reside.
It may be necessary; still,
Though safety’s a concern,
The loss of one’s autonomy
Is something I would spurn.
Storm came from nowhere
Hope this won't ruin affair
Amber eyes so bright
Spring season mirror says right
I whisper being your knight
A new nightclub opened up this week on kitty cat lane
the dismal alley and ugly parking lot will never be the same
the kitty cats there are gorgeous, they strut their stuff
I have been there six times already, it will never be enough
My relatives call, but my phone goes right to voice mail
I am busy watching the kitty cats climb up a pole said Dale
They have the sweetest expressions, and tails that swerve
Best of all, they have tiny waists and a marvelous curve.
Don't limit your listening or reading to a specific field,
such as politics, economics, poetry, or anything else.
Let it be like your food: meat, vegetables, and fruits,
And your drinks: water, milk, yogurt, tea, coffee, and beer.
It is much better for your own health, heart, and mind.
My favorite time of Day
My favorite time
Of day
Is sunset
Cocktail hour
When I drink wine
Occasionally rum
Or whiskey
With my wife
the menu said cocktail served with an umbrella and duck
I’ll have one of those, said my neighbor, mealy-mouth Tuck.
They said two was a special, so he said “two it will be”.
Bartender could not count, so they actually brought three
Heart ache, a road break off route sixty-six
Over each river and every state line
Tour bus travellers all finding their fix
Everyone hyphened is heightened this time
Lost luggage losing it's share of the light
American dreams with shutters pulled down
Memphis blues music feels alright tonight
Elvis themed runners surprising the town
Rocky road blue grass fades slowly away
In between cities and one horse places
Cocktail umbrellas recall brighter days
Appreciating these world weary faces
Neighbours, travellers, old lovers and friends
Ask for directions to where this tale ends.
"I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it..." E.E. Cummings
It's another night... I open the curtains
my mistress is hidden in moonlit meadows.
vastness of space inked in her fingerprints
flows in fantasy, filling a familiar fragrance.
I am no longer alone, a sea of passion tides
smear the stillness of a sedated sandy shore,
with the moon blushing in lustful lovelight
It's a cocktail of chemicals, cordless control.
a Ferris Wheel spinning forever in frolic
latitude of love lost in longitude of life.
hope and reality swirl in dizzy dreams
searching Spring secrets in September skies.
A butterfly had once asked it's wildflower
Darling dear, Will you please forget me?
It's twenty years in tapestry of time...
You have taken me with you, there's no me.
TONIC
Gin, with its memory of juniper
That imbues a certain sweet tang
But needs a slightly bitter contrast
To be well-rounded on the tongue
Relieved to deliver its full promise
Tonic water, innocently sparkling
Knowing its partnering role so well
Offering quinine as a prophylactic
Originally for Malaria in the Empire
A complement to balance the heat
Ice, as cubes dropped into the glass
Their mission, ever eagerly accepted
A cool aperitif then turned into cold
With just a thin twist of lemon or lime
That clink, somehow a reinforcement
The brassy sassy cocktail napkin winked at Jim.
He looked around quickly, wondering who saw.
The other patrons at the bar did not seem to notice.
Have another drink! She said. I’ll go home with you.
He had two more before stuffing her into his pocket.
She had been giving him sexy promises all night long.
“Do you want an extra napkin?” the bartender asked Jim.
He could feel his face getting hot.
Shook his head “no” and ran out of there.
Now they could be alone.
Soup Creek Toasts
Marmite cocktails are delicious I've heard
They are the hippest cocktails being served
So to raise a toast
Tell Jenna the host
Mayor Tom's sure to be shaken and stirred.
6th September 2022
a tired sun setting
below western horizon
five o'clock somewhere
written July 5, 2021
If you want to take a trip to the moon,
you won't make it in a hot air balloon.
Where education is concerned, you didn't go far.
No, you can't order a Molotov Cocktail in a bar.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.