A Drink with an Old Friend:
Like a criminal,
I'm caught red handed —
As I return the scene of the crime.
But I don't understand it,
It's not mine.
No, I didn't plan it.....
Noose around my neck,
And trauma did the damage.
Reenactment....
Drowning in the fractures,
Of my melted face.
Again I ask,
Who am I today?
Isn't time just a place?
Does identity disappear,
When bones are ground into paste?
When even the mirror,
Reflects my empty space.
Red is the flesh,
Dipped in my own blood.
Stained is the page,
With a cruel heart called love.
Swaying in time,
Like the pendulum of the clock.
As I turn towards death and simply laugh.
I've been dying.....
Ever since my first bath.
Come on Mr. Grim,
If you won't take me—
Why don't we just hang.
Here have a cigar,
I'll pour you a glass.
Let's raise a toast,
To the pain long past.
~D34d-1~
*In regards to Repetition Compulsion
Ice tea
to me for any season
can be refreshing
Heidi Sands
10/2/26
(C)opyright
the chair slides down to the floor,
wick of past mornings in a floating shop,
the killing time of an unshared storyboard
craven need
white chaste face dipped in mud,
daily smokescreen
tongue's
lovetug
numb
the chair slides down to the floor,
white chaste face dipped in mud,
numb
Color My World - Sponsor - Nette Onclaud 9-29-26
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Grey In November
When platinum winds howl
Red leaves turn silver
With their smoky breath
Dove grey clouds reign rain ~
Time for sweet cider
Next to a warm fire.
There once was a man named Gray
He loves drinks on a tray
He was very drunk
And hit a big trunk
He could not even pray
It all ends here
Not there here
Where? Here
Now come over here
Give it here
Your beer, not there, here
I will stand here
Drink the beer, with you here
So, you can witness me here
Drink the beer here
And tell your friends I gulped the beer here
And without fear here
We will graduate from here
Smarter since we were here
Drinking our beer here
Getting degrees here
Not there, here
They still want us to suffer as if we have left
The residue at the bottom
Maybe doubting we finished that cup yet
The drink wasn’t supposed to taste awesome
They keep treating us rather sternly
Even though we are still miles apart
Maybe happier than it was meant to be
Taking suffering as the high art
Of those who remember better than us
The garden with apple tree
But living each day as if it were our last
We’ve done all the drinks, haven’t we?
We must not drink or eat
Absolutely nothing to drink or eat, I repeat
Forget sex, there’s no holding hands
Even a peck on the cheek is banned
As for washing, bathing, or showering
Maybe a maybe, if one's odor is overpowering
All of this, and Yom Kippur is called a holiday
~ Easy to see why the whole day in synagogue we pray!
I professorially , perceptively
unofficially
noiselessly spoke
that addlepated
moldy merchantman
would pass
through foaminess
with volumetrically
unretrievable moonshine
and sunberry fodder
for bungarus
his puppyish
impracticable tantrum
impeccable monotonous drone
rowdy crescendo
a classic companion dither
could they brainwash
this opposer ?
but lukewarm normalcy
will not obstreperously come .
okay !
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 14–20, 2026)
What Nectar is to a Bee ?
" Its drinking desire must be !"
Invitation from bloom : Bee sips in glee.
Abloom blossom to greet
bee , offering nectar as treat
to meet its appetite.
Flower and bee ! Mutual : Complementary :
Both are comfortable in floral territory.
As prime drink, bee sips nectar.
Pollen sticking to bee in flowery sector
initiating pollination at random :
Flowery wisdom !
.
Flower and bee ! Made for each other.
Nectar as bond to one another.
the door opened ajar
there stood a drunken man with an empty bottle
looking afar
pleading in eye
hobbled in, a shaky wobble
bit high
got Ales
mouthful gobble
bales
A pretty sunny day can start off with white fluffy clouds,
the bright blue sky becomes the big backdrop.
I love to sit and watch the white fluffy clouds,
as they dance across the bright blue sky.
Many times as I watch,
I see zoo animals walking by.
Then the thunder sounds off,
like a canon across the sky.
The day is going from pretty to dark,
is rain about to come in for a visit?
As the peaceful wind starts to pick up,
the birds fly to hide.
It has been hot and dry here,
everything needs a bath and a cool drink.
The flowers and trees welcome the rain,
as the pitter patter starts.
Come down slow they seem to say,
make the rain last for awhile.
Flavor guzzles an atmosphere
of cinnamon-dusted coffee.
Don’t worry there is plenty here,
a mug for you and one for me.
Sip slow but I will drink quickly
lest it vanish without a taste.
Spicy sticks languish dutifully
as our buzz is expertly laced.
Morning Routines KOTABA KOKORO
2/6/7/6/8
coffee
drinking first thing in the morning
while watching the daily news show
the news depressing me
turning it off, drinking coffee
Coffee
Morning delight
Perfect
Drink Categories
Definition | What is Drink in Poetry?
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.
Related Poetry Forms
sip, alcohol, cup, liquor, refreshment, glass, booze, brew, toast, potion, shot, spirits, liquid, potation, swig, spot, slug, gulp, taste, draft, libation, swallow, potable, thirst quencher, inhale