Long Beer Poems
Long Beer Poems. Below are the most popular long Beer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Beer poems by poem length and keyword.
made my Drakes Breath chili for my friends ,
Hot peppers beef cumin veggies ,sauce and more,
Chili and beer ,the party never ends ,
One homie stated. chili to hot for sure.
At the thedepot.org ,I felt not assured,
What’s a head chef to do under restraints ?
The heat stayed medium and I got complaints.
Souvlaki plates aromas and taste i adore.
A pork souvlaki with a savory sauce,
i order the platter i eat two for sure,
The Greek salad I get is surely the boss,
If the platter isn't empty .,it gets tossed,
On certain birthdays I get them by my kin,
When my kin pays,I consider it a win.
I used to eat mexican on my birth day.
I used to order the steak and shrimp plate,
quesadillas with all toppings I say,
There 4 or 5 quesadillas that I ate.
At thedepot.org met old friends it was great.
I ate medium sized vege chili bowl,
Last week -a vegan burger,good for the soul.
99 degrees on that parking lot, felt like 110,
no breeze, nothing to cool ears
as they swiveled on a sopping neck.
There she was -
pushing a lightly filled cart
across an asphalt desert.
I'm too young for her,
40 years since my brain woke up.
I was born in my mid-thirties,
problem is, when you are born in your mid-anything
the linear roll of time tends to wobble a lot,
moments drift in and out of you
as if you were an abandoned vehicle.
where only mice may nest.
Half a mile from the crematorium
a pub sells English beer,
I'm just resting there now,
dipping a tired mind
into cold froth.
Never suspected on meeting her so soon,
I was not ready for an eternal romance,
she also had forgotten her place in time.
Old crone eyes looked at me
through a newly minted face.
In many ways, that dry-roasted parking lot
could have been hell,
but for a while we were in a brand-new heaven
our carts coming together
for a long, knowing kiss.
I wonder is there anything, I would not sacrifice for love
First think of the many things, that when push comes to shove
Things I could not live without, too important to my life
Things I could not part with, not even for my wife
What about my fishing boat, in livery of black
Or my favourite 4X4, that gets me there and back
Then of course there are, the mates that I hold dear
The ones that I spend spare time with, and drinking lots of beer
Then there are my parents, and siblings one, two, three
I mention here the major things, where my heart should be
But none can hold a candle, to the one I owe my life
Until I die, I will try, to be exclusive to my Wife
Everything is calm
Only silence going on
Getting caught up on speed
With a quick read
In the Sunday news
Not much to lose
Staring out in a placid lake
Still visual it does make
Glistening like a crystal
Opening the front page tension due to a missile
Getting caught when someone blew the whistle
Reporters did inquire
Diffusing the issue on the wire
Out in the tranquil water
Kids playing with a camcorder
Fooling around with jet skies
Using technology as a transportation tease
During the outing that is play
Children having fun in their own way
Nothing to worry about
Enjoying life without a pout
Youthful action is what it takes
Creating thoughtful challenging little wakes
There is a fisherman on a river
Relaxing while catching dinner
Immaturity maturity glides by
In a boat teenagers cheerful enthusiastic cry
Giving the angler a few waves
Waking him up from a sleepy grave
Sunbathers needing the glowing shine
On the beach in a line
Surfers holding on to a survival tool
Staying safe feeling blue
Being all wet while looking cool
Off in the distance
Vacation business having no resistance
Setting sail
Passengers writing postcard tales
Starting a commotion
In the port docked ocean
Setting off on an excursion
A floating luxury hotel is the escaping diversion
Motorize engines propelling a swirling ring
Circulating many natural things
All the way down to the sandy floor
Sending a current message to the shore
As well as those onboard
Looking to encounter a sizable score
Lazy
Hazy
Summer days are here
A good reason to pop open a peaceful Corona beer
Backyard dandelions
have parachuted upwards,
on heavenly breezes.
The mower gave them a kick-start,
then they ascended; some to tickle
ears and noses.
Ride along garden cowboy,
your straw fieldhands hat,
is full of sunny sweat.
Old black dog
long past its time,
jiggles its hairy hind -
a hot tamale wagging the sky.
Small town
brown rabbits scoot the air.
Honeybunch arrives with cold beer.
Soon the gas guzzler
will dawdle, decide to die happy,
its clattering engine
between khaki shorts
sputters
upon a stubby green.
Orbiting Sol
dandelion children
return
loaded with raindrops
to wet the whiskers
of a fat tabby cat.
Now where did lumpkins go?
Under the hedgerow
feline gums yawn wide.
The more I learn the less I know
global warming closing Eskimo Joes
Rivers run down but the Nile runs up
first taste of beer from a tippy cup
Dead birds pile high at a windmill farm
going green what's the harm
Lets say we will when we won't
Lets say we did than don't
Take the jab against your will
when all you needed was a cheap pill
Praying for rain in a flood
soon we will all be living in huts of mud
No more baths save water instead
some days best to stay in bed
Little boys now are little girls vice versa
gender confusing children makes it worsa
The Big Lie now Stop the Steal
fake media governs with the unreal
Essentials gone shelves are empty
Let's Go Brandon, where's our Horn of Plenty
Crime wave swells to floods
life was better funding the Fuzz
Feeling red while forced by blue
Big Orange Monster we miss you
I'm a hollow soul with a needle, no matter if it's herion ice or crack...I don't have a little monkey, I have king Kong hangin on my back... Where's my wife and kids these days, what happened to my job...I haven't brushed my teeth or showered in a week, when did I become a slob....I'm a hollow soul with a needle, my own family will I lie to cheat and steal.... Cause all I care about is getting high, just to change the way I feel...So off to the methadone clinic again, can't shoot herion anymore... cause I can't find anymore veins to hit, and my arms are getting sore...I'm a hollow soul with a needle as I lay here feeling so sick... with restless legs and upset stomach, just craving that hollow little prick...Man that's messed up about Brandon and Randy, both of them dying this year....If I didn't catch hepatitis c shooting up, ide probably drink a little beer....So a hollow soul with a needle kids, is this what you really want to be.... Cause it will take your lives to the darkest hell you're eyes will ever see....
Where Echoes Hide
I once asked my mother where echoes hide
She turned from the sink and quietly cried.
"I know naught of echoes," her whispered reply.
"When I scream in the dark, no one answers my cry."
I once asked my father where echoes hide
He got his mean look like when being defied.
"Don't ask such things, it’s your mother I hear!
Now go tell that cow to bring me a beer."
I asked a close friend where echoes hide
"In the arms of a lover." But I found out she lied.
I once asked my lover where echoes hide
He laughed and then beat me ‘til I bleeded inside.
I finally asked God where echoes hide
As I jumped off a cliff praying only I died.
"God do you hear?" It was then that I knew
As He answered, "Hear, here.” And I finally flew.
12/10/2015
Across the track, a rail yard worker
big innocent bear of a guy, beer
belly, embraces his girl. She’s
a conductor, comes up to that belly,
reaches arms not quite around
his back. They separate and embrace
three times while the train prepares
for departure.
Across the aisle,
a mother and son. Lights out, change engines,
they play Mercy. Squeeze fingers until one
cries mercy. The son still too small
to seriously challenge his young, athletic
mom. Ask and answer questions, laugh
and cry mercy, she draws and he colors
the features.
Unless a society
expects its fate to be better than its past,
it will strive to make its present
immutable as possible.
Optimism is a way of exploring failure.
It says there is no law of nature
or supernatural decree preventing progress.
Nearly all failures, and all successes, are in
our future.
It’s opening day (that’s for baseball);
The season’s officially here,
With fans set to flock to the ball fields
To watch, buying hot dogs and beer.
If life were compared to a ball game,
Each inning a decade or so,
We’d root for our home team, while knowing
The game’s sometimes boring and slow.
Yet other times, there is excitement
And we take the lead in the score,
Without any way of predicting
What action is waiting in store.
There’s a break in the 7th for stretching,
When the game’s cut as if by a knife,
Which is like when it’s time to retire
And confront what is left of your life.
Then the players get back in position,
The outcome still up in the air,
But there isn’t much time to the finish
And perhaps not much power to spare.
Now my husband’s a bit of a joker;
This baseball/life theme’s his, not mine,
Yet when he said we’re in the 9th inning*,
I knew I would pilfer that line.
*The title is what he actually said about
where we’re at, which cracked me up…