I saw a grandma's eyes doze
In her walk she stumbled
She had a calm quiet stagger
See drunk of the firewater
Oh those spirit had her stumble
She would wave as she walked like a branch , a leaf in the wind
She drank the spirits
Now my grandma was the only one
Then I saw with mine, eye rassel lawn chair
Oh , it was rare to see this woman trying to get out of there
She drank the spirits
50%, calm and quiet 50%. stammering rage, quiet
Yet on the flip side of the coin
She screamed. rated and ranted like a roaring lion
It wasn't water, it wasn't KoolAid? It wasn't Coca-Cola, or Lipton tea
Grandma don't know if you was alcoholic, but you sure was close to being near it.
Ma, grandma drunk them spirit
Lo, them there ---"the spirit of "al co hol"
Those demented the liquid
Grandma drunk them spirits
8/9/26
Written wirds by James Edward Lee Sr
Each time I had sipped mirage
thinking it was water
and I made my mind understand
that it had quenched my thirst.
Now neither mirage nor water
can make me feel thirsty again.
I am cohabiting with my thirst
in a perfect equilibrium:
neither does my thirst lure me,
nor do I try to evoke my thirst.
We have compromised with each other
for the sake of peace.
Because it's better to be thirsty
than to be falsely hopeful.
Love might she whisper
her sweet nothings
Love might she wish to ignore
Love might she want to hear me
sing
Love
My Love
the one I adore
Love might the warmth of morning
greet me as I kiss your face
Love endearing and calming
Love
oh Love a sweet embrace
Love our melding
might we be together
Love
oh love
my lovers embrace
Aunt Judith was the only tea drinker in the family;
Camomile brewed from bags - no loose tea leaves for her to read -
her future was foretold at birth: heart defect and early death.
The wise doctors were sure she would not live much beyond thirty,
but with faith and determination she surprised us all -
Joyfully, she left this world at the ripe old age of fifty!
The Drunkard staggered into a bar
And slurred that he just wrecked his car
He added, "Wha th' hell,
Isle... zit 'ere ...az-spell..."
Then he sang while he banged his guitar!
At play
one day
we saw
grandma.
We took
a look.
She’d made
kool-aid.
She sipped.
It dripped
onto
each shoe.
Dispose
of those!
Her dress -
a mess!
The stain -
her bane.
I guess
her dress
no doubt’s
thrown out.
My father drank
trying to convince himself
that he can drown
his shame and sorrow
.... in Rum.
Most people would say:
"Sorrow can swim."
That's a cliche
The sorrow didn't knew
how to swim
Enchanted by the shame
it fell deeply in love
while sinking
to the bottom of the cup
My father stubbornly
holding onto his cup
jealously watching
the romance
drank little more
A lot more
sinking to the very bottom
of a human existence
where he found
just more shame and sorrow
soap water in jug
thirsty brother drank it all~
remarked "tasted strange"
Note : This actually happened. Upset brother said you should have kept it sink. I asked why you drank all when taste was strange?
Date: 1/13/2021
Do Remember When We Drank and Drank
Do remember when we drank and drank,
Until the Captain who was an old crank,
With his hussy,
Who was fussy;
Had decided to make me walk the plank.
Jim Horn
I Have Drank Deep Woes Of Tiresome Heartbreak
I have drank deep woes of tiresome heartbreak
supped dark wormwood of Fate's poison trees
attempted to love just for loving's sake
drown myself in sorrow's of empty seas.
Blessed golden day poetry found me.
For its sweet gifts have truly set me free.
I climbed mountains that rose forever
walked deserts and laughed at dying thirst
but in my Life I have sworn to never
beg for winter's harsh cold nor be the first!
Blessed golden day poetry found me.
For its sweet gifts have truly set me free.
I have through paradise a time once trod
sat on its rainbow singing out of key
swore to truly love before man and God
angel that broke my chains to set me free
Blessed golden day poetry found me.
For its sweet gifts have truly set me free.
I have lived within shadows that mourn
roped a bronc and stole many a girl
been between life and death wickedly torn
in battles victory's flags unfurled.
Blessed golden day poetry found me.
For its sweet gifts have truly set me free.
Robert J. Lindley, 12-14-2019
Rhyme, ( Giving Thanks For Poetry's Many Fine Blessings)
The sensation of contemplation leaves me shaken
Stirred and worried
I fumbled through my choices
Stumbled into annoyance and dissatisfaction
Is this why they drank it?
Should I go on until I get too f***ed up fall asleep while you talk about what I used to be like?
Not long ago there lived a mouse,
Born in a brewery, not a house.
His mom and dad, and Uncle Neil
Ate barley for their favorite meal.
Throughout the day, the lift jacks roared,
Too dangerous out on the floor.
He slept inside his cardboard nest,
And so became a brewery pest.
He dodged their traps of baited cheese,
And sticky mats he jumped with ease.
But as he grew, he loved to drink
The beer that caused his feet to stink.
One day he squeezed through bottle neck,
And stated: "Oh well, what the heck?"
He swam and drank, and drank and swam,
As happy as a drunken clam.
This poor pink-pawed and whiskered sot
Discovered what his ticket bought.
He tried and tried to wriggle out,
But died inside a tapered spout.
The Cat Drank My Beer
The Cat drank my beer
I left in a cup.
Actually she used her tongue
to lick it all up.
I remember thinking,
this does not bode well
for the cat or the beer.
This feline had to drive home
and she didn’t live near.
I could see she was
in no condition to drive.
By the time I stopped her,
she had already drank five.
She slurred her purrs,
licking everyone around.
She threw a hairball at a beagle
and pinned a pit-bull to the ground.
She meows she hates you
and think you’re a rat.
Then starts crying, asking:
“does this fur make me look fat?”
She rants and raves
as those with drink tend to do.
Then starts singing Streisand
albeit a little off tune.
I mix catnip and Friskees
for a little pick me up.
She takes one lick
and passes out in her cup.
I now know that cats
have a problem with beer.
One sip or lick drops
them on their rear.
8/22/18
She drank to forget
She drank to numb the pain
She drank hoping to get drunk every day
It was the way for her to cope
She believed she had no hope
And when intoxicated
She sleep with any man
Who offered her a drink or two
She knew that love was not due
They simply wanted her body
So they could screw
It meant nothing to them
And even less to her
She was drunk most of the time
And had lost hope through and through
She used them for the alcohol
Gave them her body and her dead heart and soul
Emotionless and tired she just lay there
For them to do just what they wished
Often passed out after they finished
But she was known to do this while they were still going
This is a tale of hurt, pain and damage
So don't judge her too harshly damn it
Unless you've walked a mile in her shoes
She is one of life's lost victims
And now can't cope with anything
It's sad to see but that's the simple truth
She did not know what else she was supposed to do.
MOTHER
Never Drank Gin in the Morning
My Mother… never drank!
“Cotton Gin” came to her mind,
when she heard the word Gin.
In stores…Gin never find.
I too, just like Mother
my strongest drink iced tea.
When stronger drink took sip
weird warmth.. came over me.
As, N.Y. designer !
Lemon, lime drink thought try,
Called a “Margarita,”
drank three.. and “Prayed to die!”
Husband will sip Bourbon
stronger, than perfume I wear.
I simply can smell it,
and swear..”.I drank my share.”
Unlike Mother, I drink wine
before going to bed.
Imagine where it goes?
Directly to my head!
At night had bad leg cramps
gave my specialist a call,
“Add Gin to you Tonic”.
Cramps gone..too tipsy.. might fall!
Mom drank, no alcohol
Life taught me.. enjoy mine.
All with “Moderation”
when Paul brings me.. Gin or Wine.
Feb. 28, 2018
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