Liqueur Poems | Examples

Be Merry Rondelet

Come be merry 
on the streets of the French quarter.
Come be merry,
plum liqueur and praline whiskey.
We’re the oldest brick and mortar,
drink and have an appetizer.
Come be merry.

Exposed

From this angle the bushes do not conceal them.
Are they hinged or unhinging?
Each body is a prison gate for the other,
both seem stuck together by a pungent lip spit.
Feathering fingers pulse-play over gulping skin.
Greedy eyes zoom in,
unbuckling muscles sift and trowel,
modelling the creaming and palpable.
This public act despoils the evening
yet it also sweetens.
I feel the need to rut,
to suck inward all this carnality,
to sup upon this liqueur of spiced flesh,
even though my cupped hands
remain regretfully or not,
unsullied.

- Field Of Forgiveness -

    The badger entering the underground labyrinth
    it is impossible to discover the stars at night
    In the drowsy dark caves of the mind
    trying to maintain the truth safe in the memory
    Clouds, slowly suffocate my courage
    While sipping the liqueur of bitterness
    Unspoken words die on the tongue, as seasons come and pass

    Ghosts in dirty rags
    Wounded feelings, in the shadow of the evening

    Forgive me, with the scent of lilies to sweeten the path of life
    The future belongs to those who believe in their dreams
    Field of forgiveness gives love renovated splendor
    From darkness, to flower - in the embrace of harmony

2 Squirrels

"Ralphie, Big Yellow. Ralphie, get up here it's Big Yellow!" 
"I'm not as excited about Big Yellow as you are. I've made this quite clear."
"But the STOP! The STOP, Ralphie! We made a bet!"
"Brendan, I'm not gonna sit here and bet over people's lives."
"Holy hazelnuts, Ralphie! It's nearly here. One stop away!"
"I refuse to participate. These are human children."
"Last night you bet me no one would ever run the STOP."
"That was the walnut liqueur talking."
"Did you see that?"
"What?"
"That car went right past the STOP!"

Breaking ranks through the branches
They jumped across rows of trees.
There maple brown fuzz now rejoined,
Brushing against each other in the 
Early angling sunlight.
Squad car sirens took to the air.

"Ya see that, Ralphie! Someone DID run the STOP!"
"With all those children."
"With all those children."
"But Ole Blue took care of it. 
"Yes they did."
"I'm going back to sleep."
"The city bus comes thru in couple minutes."
"Good-night."
"It's MORNING TIME!.....
...
...
sorry for yelling."

when the lights dim

When the light dims


The man in the lunch café drank 3 tall glasses of wine
he spoke loudly trying to draw attention to himself
not that I'm an expert, but he was, clearly divorced and
on holiday on his own.
After his meal, which he didn't eat much of
had coffee and a liqueur, not having anyone to talk to, he fell
silent, looking sad, perhaps he had children, but he was not
allowed to see, that some women can be vengeful
As the café emptied, I felt I had to say something, but
my wife stopped me, saying you can't get rid of him
I know how lonely life can be, no one wants to know
you are an embarrassment to others
To be middle-aged and alone is not easy the happy
days of youth is over, the bell rang and clear this morning
when I tried to contact a childhood friend he has
Alzheimer, he didn't know who I was.

My Drunken Lover

I fell in love with a Drunken Poet
When with light My Grail He fills
Lyrical Creativity intercourse with pen and paper spill
With Rhymes and reasons salutations 
Filled so full, Colorful My imagination
Drunken poetry obliteration 
He drinks sooo much, his touch Intoxicating 
Slurry words with breath of sweet Rum
Penetrating and Pouring light until I succumb 
He woos with words and stirs Me up 
I have gotten addicted to his Liqueur syrup
Transporting my mind to Celestial Bliss
Overflowing with every Drunken Kiss
Drunk in Love, my heart Enshrined 
Top shelf Libation pours, He wants me to Shine
He slurred" let go baby, I'm yours, You're mine"
I got sooo drunk, couldn't hold My liquor 
Fondled My Pen, vomit on paper
He slurred, " Go on baby, it's best for your liver"
Now my  speech is liquored sweet ingredients to my potion
Drunken poetry creative recreation.


Shout out to Elliott Bowe>>>creator of drunken poetry.

Laughter

Laughter
 
Laughter knocks on the doors of tragedy selling snake oil.
Its remedy has no cure, 
but the symptoms from consuming its liqueur are delightful.

There are all sorts of laughter.
My favorites are the giggle,
a subtle and private revelation of jiggling jello,
and the barrel roll
that takes over everything like a stampede of elephants from a circus.

Whichever laughter you enjoy most,
be it the snort,
the snort with an accidental backfire,
or even a donkey bray,
enjoy a bit of laughter today,
because life is serious,
but it's worth enjoying.
 

by Martin Braun
October 6, 2023

Walking Hand In Hand

She danced into my life three years ago
as if she'd been born with Angel wings.
My granddaughter, Eloise; a star aglow,
twirling in a ballerina skirt as she sings...
words of Taylor's song, "I'll write your name."

Summer was filled with playing house for us,
and a visit two blocks away to a Snowball stand. 
For Elle, it was never a decision to make a fuss
of a flavor to choose as we walked, hand in hand.
She only cared about which color. It was a game.

The painting I posted was from a photo of her
sitting on the shelf as her blue ice treat was made.
Days spent with Eloise are like a sweet liqueur,
and the bond of affection we share will never fade.
She has a baby sister, Grace. I love just the same.

Gypsy Tipsey Gal

sHE STOOD PROUD
SMILING.
HER FACE AS
 BEAUTIFUL AS HER
STYLIST ALLOWED.
ONE SPOKE
i DON'T KNOW WHY,
 BUT IT IS jULY  IN 2024
WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?
THEN SHE SAID
IN HER NAITIVE TOUNGE
SOMETHING THAT PUZZED ME
SINCE. SHE SAID:
"ELLE PORTAIT UN
COSTUME DE CORPS
AUX TONS CHAIR:
AVES UNE CINQUIEME
BOUTEILLE DE LA
LIQUEUR GAY
SUR L'ETIQUETTE.
c'ETAIT JUSTE SUR
ELLE
SWIG - SWAGGLER!"

Blackberries

Blackberries are juicy and sweet

And very delicious to eat.

For me though, I think,

Are those I can drink-

Blackberry liqueur is my treat!


July 29, 2022

Contest: Your Thoughts on Blackberries
Sponsor: Matt Caliri

Rest In Peace

Janet went out, saw the grass was knee high
Hard she pushed, mower out and it did die.
With a kick start, all went blur
Nursing her coco liqueur
Running over neighbor's cat that went by.


6/2/2022

Fuddled Zombie Wakes Up With Coffee

The smell of dark coffee brews in early morn.
Such a treat to wake up to, when I’m groggy and worn 
I’m not fond of fancy frothy coffee shop brew
None of them will really do 
Unless you pour a spot of Irish Cream to fire up a few.

When my girlfriend Susie would come over to stew, 
I always put on a fresh pot of dark roasted coffee to brew 
I have always been a softy when giving her a caring shoulder 
We enjoyed the bliss of coffee and Baileys Irish Cream liqueur
to make us bolder. 

Friendship with laughter is a treasure,  
with a sip of spiked coffee will always do with pleasure.

When I was young, Mommy would sometimes wake up 
looking like a fuddled zombie, 
but 
as soon as she’d have her first cup of sugary with cream coffee, 
she’d be our mommy again cooking us something good for our tummies.

12/3/3021

redo 12/9/2016


''Z'' Contest, New or Old - Poetry Contest 5.  zombie   
Sponsored by: Constance La France 

original title: WAKE UP WITH COFFEE OR TEA

Her Beauty and Her Sin

So is she seen with innocence unmarred
to shun the eyes of those taken with her
to flaunt her beauty without fair regard
her perfume to him but a sweet liqueur
lust hoisting him upon his own petard

Whilst in her heart she knows her visage lies
unable to return the ling’ring gaze
for fear that to him she is but a prize
his quest to set her innocence ablaze
knowing her sinlessness is but a guise

For she so knows the vanity of men
that they will overlook a lover’s scars
make promises and return not again
while bragging of their conquest in dim bars
regale them of her beauty and her sin


9/2/2021

Quintain (Sicilian) Poetry Contest
Emile Pinet - sponsor

Word Tools For So Much Writing

We write so much...
           So many cutting words,
           so many surgical verses,
           So much poetry of carnage!
           Writings that look equal to
           scalpels...they cut us
           with millimeter precision... 
           Bloodletting untied.
           You write so much...
           so many pudding words
           so many are delicacies
           so many are ambrosia...
           These we ate with nutrient
           pleasure...
           So many other words
           are liqueur,
            distilled,
            aged...
            these we drink with
            almost lust...!

A Moment To Embrace

Early one Spring morning, I joyfully walked the verdant hills,
among lemon tinted blooms of coltsfoot, swaying in spills.
Their beauty seemed to drift in a gloriously scented display,
so enticing that honeybees and butterflies visited that day.

Dawn whispered with fruited breath to bid the sun, "Arise,"
and hues of watermelon rind and peach flesh filled the skies.
I gladly welcomed the gentle warmth on my upturned face,
savoring this tranquil scene; a moment I would long embrace.

Tangerine and lavender coral bells had grown quite profuse.
There was one the shade of lime, like the liqueur, chartreuse.
Blanket flowers of crimson were fringed in saffron yellow.
Dragonflies flitted among the buds; a pastoral scene so mellow.

Wild lilac bushes were maturing into a beautiful hedgerow,
then I caught I glimpse of aquamarine water on the lake below. 
It was such a serene setting that I lingered for some time
thinking about the pastoral scene I would write about in rhyme.



April 13, 2021
Changing Colors Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet

• Short Liqueur Poems
• Famous Liqueur Poems
• Best Liqueur Poems
• Read Liqueur Poems
• Long Liqueur Poems
• Liqueur Quotes