Long Carousing Poems

Long Carousing Poems. Below are the most popular long Carousing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Carousing poems by poem length and keyword.


Auf Wiedersehn

Auf Wiedersehn

   Well here at last it's party time,in shorts and dirndl dress.
   Excitedly we travelled to the fest, a night of pleasure lay ahead.
   We knew from past experience, don't quaff, just savour  beers.
   Imbibing Munichs drinks too fast, could mar the atmosphere.
   Laughter brings bonhomie, as old and new friends speak.
   Let's raise our beer steins in a toast.for now the show begins.
   People waving, singing loudly, while rocking to the beat.
   And all around the milling crowds, now dancing in the streets.
   Revelry with devilry, as young boys whistle, girls in short skirts coyly blushing.
   Talking heads surround our table, animated arms translating.
   Yesterday a bunch of strangers, today as  friends sharing together.
   Listen to the sound of lilting voices, melodies from different tongues.
   Inviting us each night to join them, mixing beers and singing songs.
   Kindred spirits everyone, together dancing on the benches.
   Enjoying each and every moment, with an ice cold stein of beer.
   Trying tasty tendeloin of pork, delicious with sweet mustard crust.
   Ham wrapped-figs and hazelnuts, with drinks of cool  spring bottled water.
   Each time the band strikes up-Ein Prosit, all and sundry stands to toast.
   Rebel rousing, crowds carousing, dancers dirndl skirts are swirling.
   Entertaining energetic, party poopers paralytic.
   Stomping feet and clapping hands, embarrassing each waitress serving beer.
   No one even seems to care,they carry on with gay abandon.
   Overacting then distracting, when outside and breathe fresh air.
   Time to eat potato pancakes,refreshed by water keeping sober.
   Once more, let's party, here we go, prancing to an oom-pah band.
   Musicians wearing lederhosen, people stomping feet and slapping thighs.
   Oktober Fest in frenzied celebration, cavorting couples holding hands. 
   Running wildly round each table, urging all to take the floor.
   Rejuvenated, rock and rollers, overcoming mixed emotions.
   Once more before auf wiedersehn, let's dance the night away, and
   We will party like there's no tomorrow.

   11 / 5 / 2016.
Form: Acrostic


Labor Yielded Lustrous Lovely Lass

our second of two lasses conceived 
sometimes within a blink
the exact moment auguring conception 
difficult to identify or pinpoint

whence seminal liquid 
ejaculated from a phallic chink
birth of second daughter thyself and spouse created 
while immersed in the coital drink

generally occurred during 
our naked lunch sans primal cop
yule la shun, via carousing with amorousness 
when a seminal dollop
of passion circa May 1998 that pregnant verity 
became definitive when the ultrasound
evinced a miniscule glop

pronounced by obstetrician and gynecologist 
with an impending due date 
yet unpredictable until the wife did evince 
a swelling abdominal area, an ordinary fate 

once pregnancy without doubt 
ascertained both of felt great
lee excited at prospect thee eldest 
would become “big” sister, 

which less than total devoted attention 
she would naturally hate 
upon begetting youngest punim 
indubitably saw her (Eden) irate

yet any jealousy temporarily deferred, offset 
and thwarted upon the birth
of Shana, whose anniversary 
she exited birth canal when a dearth

of being cocooned in the womb 
suddenly necessitated adjusting to life on Earth
when formerly inducing 
a bulge within the uterine hearth

and this papa nearly nineteen years 
wept tears of joyful delight
with a complete set of anatomical features, 
and gender as the girl found wife excite
head, cuz decision asper circumcision, 

a moot point re difficult conscience fight
club and prediction as per average adult height
of female progeny, number two found the sight
a biologically whipped miracle I held tight.
Form: Lyric

The Pub rewrite


Bubbling burbling banter brimming from the bar

No sombre timbre just the tingling of folks mingling
 
Delightful pitter patter of insightful chitter chatter

Webbed blossom ebbed down dappled dimpled jar


Parched pagans perch in their lair a rare secular church

Trumpets tradition beacons blush.. echo embers of the past

Flames flickering strumpets cackling like sassy harridins 

Classy cast of polished pewter & bravado of ballsy brass

Timeless games crackling with larking bickering larrikins 


Wisps of whimsy waft across tobacco tinted tickled times

Smorgasbord horde quaffing quenching in crannies cavorting

Carousing castles sparkle canoodling too many rascal debacles

With adored nooks courting timber flanneled panels sporting


As sons then become dad..on the same pews with their lad

Lawyer betwixt a tyro…local employer..bumpkin on the giro
 
Museums of marvels.. hoodwink bores & dodgy metaphors

Higgledy piggledy tables graced stables of parables & fables 

Laced with a lush house pour of moreish memories of before


Gracious & loquacious landladies & landlords near and far

Each a stellar story teller in the bar and in the cellar a star 

Toast halcyon hostelries that boast such hallowed hosts 

Who let us roam in our home from home we raise our jar

Big grin as we begin another weekend just staying in 

That special space of friendly faces ..our third place

Ta

Some Temples

Some temples are cluttered.
Everywhere there are
wrathful-playful-sexual-vengeful-
gesturing-carousing-beckoning-
ascending-descending-riding-
weeping-flying-singing,
or just sitting around
   Gods.

The congregation ride luggage carts 
in the dead of night,
sing drunkenly, slam doors, 
or watch HBO with the volume way up,

That was a hotel in Muncie Indiana.
A temple I shared with a rumba dancing Shiva 
and a bottle of Jim Beam
but the vibe was the same.

When I finally nod off, I dream of wearing
Day-Glo Speedos
in an elevator
while
reading
the Kama Sutra.

One level up,
the Tallahassee chapter of the honorable order of Shriners,
surrounds me with their juiced-up joie de vivre.

I rise with them to the seventh floor
where at last I find
my omnipresent self.

Premium Member Passionate


I evoke the yearning desire,
Temptation expressing such fire,
Passions rising from the dark night,
Like feelings the poets will write

Owning the splendor of the storm,
Ardors this strong… never lukewarm,
Stirring the soul’s thirst to excite
Like feelings the poets will write

Blazing on skies in hues of wonder,
Sweet melodies, wild as thunder,
Burning hunger, the heart’s delight,
Like feelings the poets will write

Dreaming of him, love I implore
Pleading for more…, him I adore
This romance is more than alright
Like feelings the poets will write

Love him like a child loves its fun
Passionate kisses just begun
Beneath dark skies, lit with starlight
Like feelings the poets will write

I conjure handsome dreams, rousing
Joy surer than his carousing
Warming our hearts by candlelight
Like feelings the poets will write

Not just passions, but real love
Bringing more hope than I’d think of
Ever shining beneath moonlight
Like feelings the poets will write
Form: Kyrielle


Premium Member The Blessing of Mary Mcgee

Mary McGee went off to church
While Wee Luck stayed home in bed
A night of carousing with all of his friends
Left Wee Luck now holding his head

Mary McGee was just a bit tiffed 
That her husband had left her alone
She actually gave it a passing thought
To never return back at home

But there at the church, she was met by her friends 
And Mary was now feeling good
When Father O'Hare sent out a plea
For people the give what they could

He said "Today we will do something new
For the one who gives most to the parish
They can pick the first three Hymens to start
I know that's something all cherish" 

Someone said 10, then someone yell 20
30 and 40 soon followed
When Mary McGee shouted a 100
Leaving all of the flock start to wallow

O'Hare was delighted seeing Mary excited
Saying, "Now you can choose your three Hymens"
So, She pointed her finger around the whole hall
Saying, "I choose Him, and Him, and Him

Premium Member On Crenshaw

on crenshaw 
carousing in cavernous cafes 
slicing into earthen skin
the meat dancers bring it to a boil
they murder the rug
they scrounge for earth worms
the fish head girls bob like sea birds
telephoning purple mermaids for a date 
they have no name tags and no flowers
they sing sad madrigals to the starfish 
they know this is the last pavane 
the final curtsy before night goes down
before morning arises under white sheets 
loosening the brain screws 
burning the instruction manuals
imbibing the nylon remonstrations
on crenshaw
a lonely woman croons 
an oozing torch song to the dirt people
they sit erect in a dark morgue 
chittering like insects
singing cool blues music to the meat dancers
they bring it to a boil 
with burgers bullets and beef cake 
genius guitar freak vivisects clawing time
he twangs his axe with a searing solo
he plays psychedelic lullabies to the dead 
his music torturing the earth worms

Premium Member Just the Truth

The times have fallen hard now, to scenes played on 'unmade' roads
Without my volition, and despite intentions, goals;
Indifference took precedence; a lust of life was part,
The key to understanding then, as now,Was placed a piece apart;
Carousing life held quietude.?
Whilst roles to play stood by, as unready future partner,
For when times would come rushing, all arrived..!
I've striven with understanding, and carried in part its lode,
Found 'light years' were really heavy... .’ 
Did some things that I was shown.
Now still I face an uncertain future, as a world in conflict roils,
Self-interest & self-importance, still… the poison in its ‘coils.’
I have observed full many persons from cooks, to magistrates...
Who have introduced first their credentials,
The institutions they'd attended, then put on the desk their brass name plate.
No, the magistrates, not the cooks..!
I’ve seen it happen thus, and I see it with world leaders, and the media making fuss..! 
The Olympic Torch was taken to heaven; yes they showed it on TV..'
I wondered at the gestures value, for Gods sun gives all the light we need?
Still I 'spose he must have seen it, and all the 'special peoples' smiles,
WOW look at what mankind’s achieved yet still raw conflict boils..!
Perhaps a little more understanding..? And a lot more less of 'ME'
Coupled with acceptance of human mortality, and His death upon the tree..!

©Joe Maverick 30-11-2013
Form: Verse

Premium Member Marija Was Blatantly Alluring

Marija was blatantly alluring which is what attracted him in the first place.
Her name was not exotic, but her attitude was. 
Her whimsical manners and masterful life steps were a joy to watch.
There was a quirkiness about her that drew all of us in, even the women.
She was a Romanian gypsy queen who danced with scarves
And sparkled with silver shimmering spangles.
Mesmerized, we watched her from every corner of the room.
Who is she? My uncle Jim wanted to know, asking everyone. 
I knew then that his carousing days were over.
She was masterful, I will give her that. 
A free standing, freewheeling, free spirit of a woman.
Sensual, sexual, and seriously seductive.
My uncle had been a lone wolf for nigh onto thirty years.
We watched him that night, seeing the tremendous effect Marija had over him.
Indicative of the effect she would have on him for the rest of his life actually.

Special K Pt 4

“You saw them two sticks of that chicks’  and you know when you saw them you would easily be teased until on your knees, bereaved and pleased just by one simple hint of a squeeze breezing by the easily greasy feasibly weave that would succeed the mead that would come from honey by the bunny that would breed the pleading steed doing the deed that would not only completely beat the heat but accomplish the feat leaving the steep cleat carousing creeps to seek a new discreet meet up to wreak their teal dealing tear drop one stop hop hillbilly thrills of the buzz kills that go to stop the lot of pill popping pushers of the lush gush ers who stutter when one blunder makes a whole sunder of plunder wonder scum but humble for some done shunned gunning under-run mung crumb grumblers who then became grateful because the fate of the hate breaking masturbating mating rituals became habitually cyclically mystical in the fulfilling pill-killer of a psycho thriller!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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