Brewed from a secret recipe
Nearly two hundred years old
Guarded by the family
Almost valuable as gold.
Using aromatic herbs from
Forty three different Nations
Gathered and despatched
From their various locations.
Distilled in Rheinberg
Forty four percent ABV
Guaranteed pure and
Contamination free.
Bottled labelled wrapped
in distinctive brown twist
Placed prominently by the bar
Where it just can’t be missed.
This miraculous infusion,
This real drinkers friend,
Has brought many a hangover
To a warm and pleasant end.
Very soon after ingesting
The upset is gone
And so for the dedicated
The drinking carries on.
For services to humanity,
For keeping drinking folk alive,
For all their essential work
May FamilyUnderberg thrive.
I can’t understand why
Much to my surprise
They have never ever been
Granted a Nobel Peace Prize
There is a hilarity in this canvas
Not often found in Van Gogh's art
And recognizable faces
Also unprecedented
They might be sneaking contraband liquor
Outside away from the prying eyes of the women
For it is three men, and a boy who is taking a taste
It gives me a new feeling about Van Gogh
An artist myself, I enjoy his art, for it is cartoonish like mine
I use neons, which he did not have access to back in his time
I am confident if he had access to neons, he would have used them
Can't you see his Irises and his reflections on the water
in florescent? I sure can!
This painting makes him more real to me than he has ever been
which is why it is my favorite of his.
Kentucky's Jim Beam
is hardly my friend,
and I do not know
neighbor Jack Daniel.
Uh, personally,
I favor a blend:
Common Old Crow or
Wild Turkey will do.
I have a good friend,
who prefers special
flowers, as in the
tasty Four Roses,
particularly!
Another friend, she
prefers a good Gin.
No tequila, please!
The hangover is
intolerable,
and I will not drink
a cold beer, you hear?
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written April 8, 2021
For the “Anacreontic Verse” poetry contest
Sponsored by Silent One
20 lines - 5 syllables per line checked by How Many Syllables.com
I've always hated the drinkers,
Loud careless ****ers,
Blind to you
The only connection between them and you,
is the car that will end them,
your life too,
What kind of person drinks for fun?
To get wild?
Or loosen up?
The kind with no life,
that are weak,
faint,
Brain dead drones,
Stuck in their mind
I watch as they drink,
laugh out loud,
fall to the ground,
get up and continue to drink,
I turn my back to them,
sitting soundly alone,
I take a sip,
Let it burn,
Breath the fumes,
And they all go away.
I am the bleary eyed bemoaner
of self made misery
my body's not a temple
its more of a distillery
drinking doesnt numb the pain
but it numbs my awareness of it
sat talking to myself in the corner
like a sodden surly hobbit
the main reason your gone
is 'cus my drinking went on
and on, and on
i am the president of the broken soul society
yet im not even tempted by sobriety
wondering why i cant ever seem to keep my
perpetual misery in check
as i pour another glass of liquid depression
down my grateful neck
w are a team
drinking is our theme
winter summer or fall
we have a ball
in a truck car
or local bar
we be sinker
and thinker
we are
BEER DRINKERS