Long Brew Poems
Long Brew Poems. Below are the most popular long Brew by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brew poems by poem length and keyword.
The night was dark, in the park when I heard a bark
then a ringing bell, blood curdling yell straight from Hell
A loud clunking sound from the ground had me spellbound
by the ploys of the noise, but still maintained my poise.
I shed a tear from fear, but there was no one near.
No hand to hold, when I felt so cold, then behold!
Revealed, what had thus been concealed, an old airfield
Two ghostly planes and blood stains, wings secured by chains
The thump sound was a pump used to clean out the sump
The barking ceased. Time to feast, or a brew, at least!
August 20, 2020
Keen Observation I Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Funom Makama
To look back, to reflect, to understand
Those things which were lived long in my lifetime
As I see these things as my needs demand
Whether I had reason to be sublime
Or see what was, to know what's true or not
To now reveal what my mind wants to see
The choices made least not to be forgot
Nor will hide in shades of what could not be
Now darker brew turned a reflecting pond
With its calmer surface of mirrored sheen
Which my soul's eyes have come to look upon
When my silent solace waxes serene
To look back, to reflect on what I found
To describe what's known, my soul's sacred ground
10/28/20
The Thunderstorm
The angry sky stained dark each cloud,
as somber streaks of lightning flashed.
The shake of thunder then avowed
their storm makes entrance unabashed.
Then somber colors deeper grew
as clouds swirled rapidly on high.
Behind black billows, formed the brew
for rains to drain the swollen sky.
More thunder shook the atmosphere;
like angry god its statement made.
And lightning followed to adhere;
support for raging beast portrayed.
How powerful the thunderstorm
that rocks the earth and lights the skies;
beyond control, in mystic form,
a battle staged before our eyes.
Sandra M. Haight
~6th Place~
Premiere Contest: No. 175
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 09/09/2018
~5th Place~
Contest: Describe a Thunder Storm Without the Sense of Sound
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri
Judged: 03/03/2018
A beggar has got bread from a door
The thread of survival
A slice of sky smiling on a pink petal
And for me
In the void, appears a boundless sea
And the bard is impatient
Till the buzz from his word-paint
Versifies the lyrically human moment
Poetry is fomented by arousal and associations
A graceful process of
Deconstruction and reconstruction
Of the dancing shadows
A concentrated illumination
Of your reality
With my lamps of desire and imagination
Wearing a shirt of rustling dry leaves
There stands
A story of weeping wounds
Shards of tears and trauma
In my nostril a human aroma
Shaping out fond filigree of emotion
Warm and cold
Stroke in the folds
And when you look intense
Craving the chocolate words of my pen
Provoking a tomato like glow
In my bone marrow
Instantly arrives the bird
And stirred is the light in the gem
A sure poem
Like the meandering river
In the falling leaves
In the painting brush of the sun and cloud
Silent as well as loud
Sit the metaphors
Waiting merrily to be caressed in a poem
Or else
To what end are they born?
Guitar of golden corn
And when an irresistible leaf
From your trembling window
Falls on my thirsty grass
Alphabets sparkle and spontaneously combine
In valentine
Boats from the river sail in
Into the passionate hemoglobin
Life is always ready
With stupendous recipes
For our poetry
Provided the quick chemistry is there
In profound red and sky blue
Between me and you
A crimson brew
____________________________________
21/01/2017
In a whirlwind of words, two friends collided
A spark of anger, a flame that wouldn't subside
The quarrel grew, fuelled by pride and pain
Fists, kicks, and insults flew, like a storm's refrain
The fight raged on, with no clear end in sight
Each side dug in, refusing to yield or take flight
Like lightning, the dispute struck, swift and true
Their friendship crashed, like a ship in a stormy brew
In the aftermath, feelings lay shattered and worn
Impossible to mend, like pieces torn
Their bond, once strong, now broken and weak
A loss that couldn't be reversed, only unique
Let's cherish and embrace each other, despite our strife
For we all face difficulties, and a little kindness can be life.
I'm waking up rubbing my winking eyes
so sensitive to the burst of the first sunrays;
I open wide the off-whilte Venetian blinds of older days,
to get a better view of a sun never hiding its surprises.
I go straight to the kitchen tripping on the way,
I'll brew a fresh pot of Maxwell coffee: sweet and strong;
just four cups a day: its a good way to rewind and sing
that folk song that caught my attention yesterday.
I quickly jump into the shower with light blue curtains
displaying red canyons in the background as eagles fly
over breathtaking praires, but who can hear this voice...
if not the caged parrot that repeats it with a sorrowful cry?
I will set him free today and let him choose his own destiny,
parrots or any other bird weren't meant to be locked in cages;
yes, they are similar to us seeking freedom and loving harmony,
so why should we deny them happiness causing them many pains?
Off to work, looking my best: with gray suit which costed four hundred bucks,
and a silver tie to match my black shoes...well-trimmed fingernails is a must;
A splash of Obsession to turn on single, attractive girls at Starbucks.
I drive off in my shiny green Honda, foreseeing a great day until dusk.
babe
I stumbled home—
drenched in Guinness, soaked in guilt
the apartment crumbles, a shattered ruin
but you—your copper mane ablaze—
my wild Morrigan
a feral Celtic Faerie Queene
waging war against the wreckage.
You told me love was a lie
stitched by leprechauns
but your touch proves
there’s truth in everything
we break and rebuild.
Chased the wail of a banshee tonight
hoping to drown the shame
gulped it down like bottom-shelf whiskey.
Instead I christened the clover—
four leaves or forty—who cares? —
baptizing failures
trembling hands at work.
In this emerald world of lies
forget unicorns rainbows and clovers—
false luck's for fools and drunks.
Luck’s a liar
a Puca’s trick
crumbling when touched.
But you—
wear that emerald dress
like a battle cry.
A storm inside a woman
whiskey-fire eyes dare me
to fall harder
and I do. Every time.
You are my reel—
venomous alive
an unseelie’s song
the one thing that won’t let me escape.
I’ve fed the snakes with my mistakes
but still
I kneel before you—
a fool
drunk on you
more potent than any fairy brew.
We aren’t saints
but we’re still here—
holding on to this wreckage
with blood-stained hands.
Pour another pint, love—
let’s dance on glass fragments
our broken dreams—
our frenzied jig
painting the town green—
two misfits spinning
through this carnival of Fiana fools.
In the chaos
in the ruin
we find each other.
No leprechaun guards our gold
but you—my queen of chaos—
are treasure enough
to keep me alive.
So here's to you, my wild Morrigan—
in your eyes I find my home
the only shelter I’ve ever known.
in your smile, I find sanctuary and storm alike—
for you, are my feral Celtic Faerie Queen.
The morning spills its liquid light,
A clockwork bird takes silent flight.
I fold the sheets, I brew the tea,
And tether my wild soul to me.
The porcelain cup, the silver spoon,
A quiet dance that frees the moon.
These little loops of thread and twine
Are what preserve this mind of mine.
When chaos howls, and skies turn red,
And gravity forgets my head,
I turn the knob, I sweep the floor,
And find the strength to breathe once more.
The mundane acts, a sacred chain,
That catch me as I fall through rain.
In spinning plates and polished glass,
I watch the darkest shadows pass.
A simple rhythm, ticking slow,
The only anchor that I know.
It saved me from the endless deep,
The gentle hours I wake and sleep.
Others will always take a little notice,
When you go missing, they look for you like potus.
A funny thing happened on my way to work
Was stopped by a down and out man
Asked if I could spare a ten spot for a coffee
Ten bucks could buy a whole damn can!
Said he didn't want to keep on bugging me
Every day when we met on the street
Thought a ten spot would keep him in coffee
For two or possibly three weeks!
I suspected this coffee he was talking about
Wasn't your Colombian brew
His breath was enough to knock down a rhino
It was extraordinarily potent, p-eew!
Well lo and behold saw a dude with a camera
Filming the whole damn scene
Turned out this down and out beggar guy
Was a plant from Candid Camera it seems!
Was just about to give him the middle finger
Good thing they told me in time
Could have seen my mug on national TV
Giving him that very rude sign!
© Jack Ellison 2013
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 brews
None of them will really do
Unless you pour a spot of Irish cream to fire ups the horn
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 coffee will always do
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.
12/9/2016