Long Daiquiri Poems
Long Daiquiri Poems. Below are the most popular long Daiquiri by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Daiquiri poems by poem length and keyword.
there is no sunshine right now
you are in your world room looking at blankness with the tv blasting
there is no laughter right now
i am in another state of parking lot depression munching on greasy pizza slices while killing time
you are probably thinking about life without me and hating me so much in your quiet moments
i am chugging down a strawberry daiquiri sobe wishing you were just speaking to me period
when the dark is exposed to light, it better be something pretty in view
when the stale smell of 'woman-fed-up' is in the air, a plan b is like a nice butt and a great pair of legs
oftentimes forgotten are the roots of what won a heart and a mind's thought
comfort is overdosed and the brain cells are tainted by altered states of choices
eventually, there is that taste of asphalt or dog poop sometimes feared by a considerable percentage
laughter and sunshine are the least of worries....the work overloads all circuits
however at times, the alarm is cut off too late and the snooze button becomes the mistress of regret
We've been all work for weeks on end
Barely punchin' out before we're punchin' right back in again
And it aint just the weather that's been growin' cold
I think a little R & R would be good for our souls
Can’t you hear the palm trees - swayin' in the breeze
Baby why don't you and me
Get our Beach on
Get our Beach on
Grab you flip flops if you got'em
And we'll get right to the bottom
Of our daiquiri cups - before the sun comes up
We'll get our beach on
Get our Beach on
I'll pack my guitar you Bring your smile
We'll have nothin' blue skies for miles and miles
Aint no better kind of therapy
To re-kindle that flame - honey we just need ...to
Get our Beach on
Get our Beach on
Grab you flip flops if you got'em
And we'll get right to the bottom
Of our daiquiri cups - before the sun comes up
We'll get our beach on
Get our Beach on
Moonlit walks in midnight sand
Heart to heart - hand in hand
your lips crashin' into mine
with our love set on island time
Get our Beach on
Get our Beach on
Grab youR flip flops if you got'em
And we'll get right to the bottom
Of our daiquiri cups - before the sun comes up
We'll get our beach on
Get our Beach on
Grab you flip flops if you got'em
And we'll get right to the bottom
Of our daiquiri cups - before the sun comes up
We'll get our beach on
Get our Beach on
Quiet quibbles with silence and hushed wind’s quackery.
Have nonsensical need for an ice cold daiquiri.
Chicanery of leafy season, coursing slowly,
before its blustery countermand uplifts wholly.
Monotonous quarrel needs a quaff of arctic air,
an unquestioning brisk of maple burning its flare,
Like brandy, in quiescent afterglow’s flirtation,
ho hum’s quadrant equips me for intoxication.
I’ll not be a crone, with quaking bones, beneath a pad
of sunset quilt. I’ll be cold. I’ll brave it. I’ll go mad
with cacophonous joy, kick the crispy depth of leaves.
Removal of sequacious grin. Broad smile Fall retrieves.
I’ve heard it said we should have five a day
If healthy is how we desire to stay
I’ve planned my diet and so I can say
I’ll get five a day and I’ll be okay
I’ve ordered a cocktail with cherries in
And asked for some lemon - sliced - in my gin
My Bloody Mary with tomato juice
Has vodka, with olives put to good use
That’s how I’ll stay fit and live forever
Five a day’s easy, if you play clever
But you’re looking smug, “That’s just four,” you say
Well I’m not missing my quota today
Check out the bartender and you will see
I’ve ordered a strawberry daiquiri
Peer to peer vows of seeded cloud,
Whirli-o-Wisp, of Creation,
thinking aloud,
whismically,
avowed.
Whisps of condense-sings dance in His gaze,
A sky so vast and wide, ablaze.
The stars emerge, one by one,
Dazzling in their sparkling crowdfun-d.
Such a wonder to behold,
A sky so grand and handily bold.
The boon, of a shining silver disk,
Guides the way through the misty risk.
Illuminating the earth below,
Its gentle light a soothing glow.
The sky's eye sees all, far and wide,
A canvas of colors that coincide.
A breathtaking beauty, beyond compare,
A sight to behold, so pure and rare.
So lift your eyes and look above,
And with wonder, fall in love
With the sky that envelopes us all,
A majestic wonder that stands tall.
The sky's eye, a milky gaze it wears,
An ethereal sight that none compares.
With hues of pink and orange so fair,
A painted sky of wonder that we share.
Its cream of Daiquiri-Dowery Fare.
The sun, now set, a memory in our minds,
Leaves behind a moment that eternally binds.
The stars engaged in twinkling shine,
In engagement, like diamonds on high,
Guiding us through darkness to a lighter side,
like a marriage of fairytales in lullaby.
The sky's eye, it sees all that we do,
A constant presence that rings so true.
It reminds us of the beauty in our lives,
And the love that within us thrives.
So gaze up high, and cream a dream, thickly,
deliciously, taste the foamy lips of open zing.
Let your spirit soar, a vast plum-lined plume extreme.
For in the sky, anything is possible,
A magic of possibilty, to dip in your cast of eye.
Gift of our Supreme Being.
Cream of Daiquiri. Pie of Phi.
The Pensive Poet Contest sponsor Constance LaFrance written 8/4/26
Turquoise thoughts form
like peach perspiration
Sliding down my feverish face
Baked in a steamy shower of brain fog
Ideas fall in incomplete patterns
Like a red runaway train going no where
I get a little inspiration from fellow poet
Whose words flow fuchsia free with melodic ease
I bake and contemplate black cauldron
As my food of thought bank
Whimsical words are my magic wand
Which I use as a spoon to stir
My muse consuming cranberry daiquiri
Is wasted and no longer helping me
The night is cloaked with onyx vail
Saved by polka dots of silver stars
I reach for them in denim desperation
For what is a poet without a poem
If my wish is granted I too will write
Like the greatest poet upon the clouds
My teal torture will melt into a sea of creativity
Amethyst ideas like a new white wind
Washing away the lost thoughts
Starting a new purple poetic journey
There is a new focus on my path
I’m not the best or the worst but
I can love my heart song and tap into
The melody unique to my sandy soul
I can gather my emotions like a potion
Stirring you and me like a maroon melody
Not all who read will be moved
But for the fantastic few who
Visit me on writer’s block we shall persevere
And in due time writing sublimely
Guiding the runaway train to new destinations
Boundless Blue
Born in a misty rainbow,
Blue slips out from her place
between her sisters Green and Violet,
painting the heavens azure,
covering the earth like the robe of Virgin Mary.
She floats into the ocean in a navy dress,
then waltzes on waves of the Danube.
Sailing the teal waters of alpine lakes,
she journeys to glaciers,
leaving her daiquiri-colored footprints on glacial ice,
taking some with her to cool the fires of Robert Frost.
She treads into meadows and gardens,
planting delphiniums, lupines, hydrangeas,
bluebells, and cornflowers to sprout in her wake,
with morning glories to climb fences.
People copy her free spirit,
painting their china in Delft and willow patterns,
sing “Blue Suede Shoes,” “Blue Velvet,”
“Blue Moon,” “Blue Hawaii,”
even play “Rhapsody in Blue” on their pianos,
blow their cobalt glass, dye their denims,
even their ice cream and candy.
They try to capture her lapis, turquoise, and royal sapphires,
pressing them into frames of silver and gold,
hanging them on chains.
She smiles at their craftsmanship,
then saunters down the path to the forest,
seeming to sway to her own swingy music.
With only her blue tick hound trotting beside her,
she picks wild blueberries, savoring the tart fruit
as its indigo juice runs down her fingers.
This poem was inspired by Meenakshi Raina's "Optimistic Orange". That poem is a great example of how fun it is to write about and personify a color. I encourage the rest of you to try it!
Contest: All Yours (May 5)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
5-5-21
I had a dream.
I don’t remember most dreams.
I was cleaning the floors of heaven.
It seemed a mixed blessing,
I was in heaven, after all
but I was cleaning the floors.
It was a part time job,
I knew that intuitively.
I don’t mind house cleaning,
heaven cleaning.
It’s calm work, kind of Zen.
Are we supposed to think of religions in heaven?
At first I scrubbed on my hands and knees.
The floors are soft in heaven, like golden gym mats.
Then I thought of it, and suddenly I had a swiffer-wet mop,
just like that - and the pad never wore out.
After a while, I had an iPod, and AirPods too.
Then a daiquiri - a banana daiquiri with a pastel rainbow umbrella.
They make rapturous daiquiris in the hereafter - they never run out.
‘Heavenly,’ I thought, snorting out a dizzy laugh.
.
.
Songs for this:
The River of Dreams Billy Joel
If the Lord Wasn't Walking By My Side by Elvis Presley
STRAWBERRY
Can you feel the warmness of the sun,
reflecting off the red tones of my hair.
The sun touching the edge of my toes!
My seasons true nature ignited by a layer of flares.
Can you feel the stars shine for me at night?
While the moon beams a color of envy.
Can you see me lost underneath the crimson tide in the clouds.
Some where out there my eyes wonder for you.
Can you feel the fresh bruise in my strawberry heart?
As it bleeds every day just for you!
Wondering if life can ever be sweet like sugar and glue.
Crying under the night and its skies is how it would seem.
Lost in a midnight red field in a forever dream.
Can you feel the texture of my wounds?
They feel rugged like rocky mountain sour berries.
Covered in daiquiri as I drown under the rivers current.
Attracting canaries to enjoy my wild strawberries.
Can you feel the wings of my broken dreams?
Here I am falling off the cliff and the feeling of love.
Abandoned like a batch of strawberries for its flaws.
Do you see me standing with a sad look.
Can I show you all them hammer hits I took.
That will be the end of story, to my book.
How my strawberries have beauty that you over looked.
by; p.d.
Ode to the Madman
It was heaven in hell, both.
It was 115 degrees and I was in hell.
But heaven was in sweltering Palm Springs.
And I tasted nectar and ambrosia, both,
Under the dauntless palms.
I took in the majesty of the gods
As they bowed to each other,
Like kow-towing Chinamen in white robes.
I took in the flames and the feathers, both.
I took in the shadows and the spotlights of the stabbing sun.
The book was Women by Bukowski.
I lounged by the winking, blue-eyed pool,
Eyeing the half-naked women in bikinis,
Reading the drunken madman,
Sipping daiquiris on ice
Brought to me by the big-breasted beautiful girl
From behind the bar.
The way she walked as she brought me my drinks,
Was a Revelation and a turn-on, both.
It seemed, as I discerned from her big-breasted body language,
That she already knew the answers to life’s unasked questions.
That she had already traveled
To the farthest star in the galaxy.
That she had already tasted the wine of eternal wisdom.
Yes, it was the way she walked.
Bukowski would’ve smiled and said:
“Comon honey, let’s dance!”
I was in heaven and in hell, both.
It was 115 degrees, and I sweated.
But I saw paradise under the dauntless palms.
Ode to the madman!
“I sip this daiquiri in your name.”
Brought to me by the big-breasted beautiful girl
From behind the bar.