Long Grog Poems
Long Grog Poems. Below are the most popular long Grog by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grog poems by poem length and keyword.
With a hearty laugh, and scallywag's glee
I've acquired their riches, and conquered the sea!
Like a timid lass... they will turn, and flee
showing their backsides, to the likes of me!
Lily livered, they're fearin' my brand!
Shiverin' they be, till they're walking on land!
Arrgg!! shouts first mate, calling out to the crew,
"Tally-ho!" fills me ears, as the chance now ensues
Setting sail in a race, up high on the waves
I spy with my glass, wily cowards to chase
'Tis we, mighty foes, that will ransom the sea!
Mighty bold is me, with me old pirate's creed!
Alas! there he is, what a fool is he!!
To rush into battle with the likes of me!!
Sailin' the waves on the blimey sea
Stung by a sword, the scallywag flees!
How swift he sails, along in the blue..
Yo ho ho! Thar' he be!
He'll be countin' his days, and soon on his knees
A sorry tale, will allot him, his sword just a broom
Me' cross=bone skull is flying wild
and waves a mighty doom!!
I am Blackbeard the Pirate....remember my name!
You will fill up your froth of my flowing fame
You will guzzle ye' grog, or a bit of ye' rum
Yea' ... call me the devil, with a bit of a scum!
Girdled with face of a hundred scars
Fear of me' wrath, either by sun or by stars
It gladdens the heart of a scoundrel like me
You'll best not forget ....tis' a Blackbeard ye' fear!!
Far off the beaten track and trail
on quest for music’s Holy Grail
led pilgrims on biblical scale
more than can be counted.
With midsummer sun on our cheek
in tents to shelter we did seek
and pitched them at its highest peak
on a hilltop mounted
As we climbed the lean of the hill
my beer I would try not to spill
and sat with the great unwashed till
olé and adios.
It was I, El Skeet, amigo,
in my poncho and sombrero
half-cut like a loco gringo
who waved “vaya con dios!”
We lit yet another hash bong
all up in smoke like Cheech & Chong
and passed it to each one along
under the cop radars.
Late as corroded brain cells flag
with every mind trip headfu*k drag
I tucked in to my sleepin' bag
on the hill ‘neath the stars
As music and mayhem did rage
back in next summer’s youthful age
we camped closer to the big stage
all primed for the big show.
I’d sit and watch the crowds go by
in the hot sun and dust and dry
under a big Waikato sky
from our camp on tent row
We ripped into our grog trailer
and drank like a drunken sailor
but by nightfall lookin' paler
yet in the crowd I went.
Waitin' for Cold Chisel that night
with a superdoob glowin' bright
I was fu*kin’ high as a kite
and lurched back to my tent
The next day I woke in a daze
and walked off my drunken malaise
when I heard singin' songs of praise
in some weird sh*t I saw.
Tambourine hippies, punks and geeks
and chantin' Hari Krishna freaks
burnt incense in clay painted cheeks
so I got high some more
Yet in a hot wet and wild hour
stoned in the unisex shower
I gazed many a sweet flower
in their naked splendour.
We bathed too in waters that flowed
down where the lazy river bowed
lest my head spontaneous explode
on my three day bender
That night by the stars we were led
as above a smoky sky bled
when out The Enz rocked “I See Red”
and fired a burnin' flare.
In the spirit of Sweetwaters
we lived among at close quarters
sons of Bacchus and his daughters
and I, El Skeet, was there!
Written: November 2009
Frankenstein was hosting a tea party,
Of which I was happy to attend.
With goblins, ghosts and golems,
And other ghoulish friends.
The party started just at midnight,
But everyone showed up late...
Dragons brought some stolen treasure,
And Dracula brought the dates.
Witches prepared a magical stew,
And mummies brought the napkins.
Giants barreled in the grog,
And then you'll never guess what happened...
Demons danced with the fairies,
And hydras did party tricks.
Erinyes played cards with aliens,
And trolls drank the punch getting sick!
Then came in the man of the hour,
Frankenstein's own monster.
He happily did the moonwalk,
While werewolves performed a concert.
And then there was me, a human,
With nothing special to be...
Outside of having one simple question,
Where was the tea?
4-September-2021
Shiver me timbers
What's going on
I was dressed as a pirate
When I woke up this morn
I looked in the mirror
And let out an Arrrr....
I came equipped an eye patch
And a swash buckling scar
I felt the strong urge
For grog, meat, and cheese
Went into the kitchen
Told the winch who lives with me
It's my new pirate attitude
That I have to thank
For the look that I got
And why I'm now walking the plank
When I arrived at the office
It wasn't the ship I'd hoped for
And security at the front desk
Barred me from bringing my saber to work
With all these modern day regulations
How's a pirate to get a break
When the only body of water nearby
Is a drainage ditch and man made lake
And the only pirate booty
That I'd hoped to see
Is right now swapping the kitchen deck
While talking mutiny
Still the days barnacle adventures
Had a lot going on
As my head hits the pillow
I wonder what I'll wake up as tomorrow morn
On meeting most beautiful
adoring maiden kisses in thoughts
Deeply inhaling one warm
breath a sip off the finest old grog
auld mountain dew breathing pure
Golden leaves sweetly float dancing twirl
Shining inside vision sweet
walking hand in hand on golden sands
waves unfold a carpet blue
to white ebbing thoughts pure crashing love
Against the deepest walls warm
soft light silent echoes whisper true
sweetly melting emotions
Brewing kisses clouds peach fading out
to shades of grey tuning kiss
Silver treasuring thoughts I love you
peachy beautiful dream gem
dancing petal flowers one red rose
I have visions of you dancing in my
dreams as I sleep most wonderfully
on soft clouds in the azure sky
At times I gaze skyward on days
bright and beautiful seeing your
face in the sky and feeling always
your most wonderful presence
like texture and scent of most
sensual red rose petals gently
landing on the sweet dew ground
On meeting you most beautiful
maiden my thoughts always turn
most instantly to love and happiness
with my emotions and my soul on
fire in storms of unbridled passion and
pleasure I can only say I love you
forever and forever
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Free Verse Poem
November 13, 2014
Twere a blisterin day, on da Fundy Bay, aboard da ‘ Black Angel of da Blue”,
with a crew of 32, whilst resting a spell, wid a thunderin clap of grog ,
when da Jack o’ Cups , his Jib a hangin, spotted a Jolly Roger aft.
Aye! ye coulda sinked me! When dem thar scallywags gave chase.
So we pumped da bilge, droppin a load of crap in thar path, weighed anchor,
turned three sheets to da wind and tried to outrun dem thar sprougs,
but me mateys' deadlights twere blinded by da grog -
as useless as dem thar lanlubbers, and soon dem thar scallywags
overhauled da ‘ Black Angel’.
So! wid a heave to, we blasted dem thar swabs wid da balls off da Brass Monkey...six pounders dey be, but nary-a-one hit da mark and nary a one came back. Dem thar scuffeys' didn’t aim ta sink us, fur da botty be all dey be wantin.
Arrr! Fur sur now we be black spotted,
but I not be ready fur Davey Jones locker yet.
One more clap of thunder be what I be needin ta clear me groggy mind
and figger a way outta dis hornwaggle.
So I spliced da mainbrace and it come ta me in a flash,
da only cargo we be a carryin be Rummmmmmmmmmmm.
so we set dem thar kegs adrift and it wernt long afore dem thar
sprougs was a drinkin grog and a fine time be had by all.
~~~~~
Inspired by: Paula Swanson's contest
Awarded: Second Place
Author's Note:
In order to understand this narrative, you need to understand Pirate's language. You can
find it on the web - just type Pirate language in your search engine.
Bugger
17th July 2015
Last night my missus gave me some oysters for tea
Was I in for a night of rip snorting whoopee?
I showered and shaved trying to smell like a stud
Her half dozen oysters must have all of been duds.
Things were desperate so I engaged in foreplay
What old men do when they want a roll in the hay
I groveled I pleaded, even whined like a dog
But for all of my efforts all I got was a snog.
So should she ever give me a little blue pill
I now know it sure won’t be for an evening of thrill.
Her response
So you’re disappointed
That all you got was just a snog
How about make an effort
Stop smelling like grog
I don’t care for begging,
And sexual wee stirrings
Have a shave and a shower,
That'll start me concurring.
Now take your hand off my breast,
Just help me cook the kids tea
Grab the vacuum, do the house,
That’ll be enough foreplay for me
Hang out the washing,
Then feed the pets.
Do homework with the kids
Please now go make the beds,
Scrub all the pots,
Make sure you do the lids
Thank you my dear,
Your help was just great,
It's nice just not to nag
What! What do you mean?
You’re too tired for a shag?
28th September
Silent One's Competition
In response to my first poem
A strange disease is rolling coast to coast
and leaves its victims on their knees in fog.
The weaker mind feels the affliction most;
next, those with an affinity for grog.
Some say a brain worm fled the campaign trail;
some say that it arose from rotting meat.
The latter likely seems an old wives’ tale;
what’s true: synaptic clefts are incomplete.
Although causation’s not precisely known,
research identified a common thread.
The circuits in the retina are blown;
instead of orange, all are seeing red.
For those who trust their government and seek
a vax, one should be ready late next week.
Malignant gangrenous political cancer
corrupts, festers, and poisons United States,
thus opposition cannot wait,
especially since Gospel in accordance
with feeble minded Donald Trump
implemented wrought ugly trait,
particularly obliteration, sans progressive
human rights legislation
more or less pronounced positive
in every L ionized Nittany or cotton bowl state
and ratiocination inherent within
mine Democrat oriented mind doth rate
this forty fifth president (defect)
with sawdust packing
his noodle oven egotistical pate
trophy wife (spouse number three),
a Slovenia mate
donning "I don't care anymore"
t-shirt rousing media firestorm of late
essentially silently corroborating,
fostering, and illuminating hate
mutely bolstering the Trump anthem,
viz make America great
again, which pathless,
pithless, and pointless aim
roars like an earsplitting runaway freight
train oblivious of wailing soul asylum,
that no era meets said criteria
backtracking time machine before
rightful indigenous occupants of this land
got decimated as one after another
exploiter did inundate
(comprising a multitude
of indigenous variety of village people
indignantly subjected to Genocide,
when first "discoverer"
of new land didst promulgate
activation wrought deliberate sealed fate
vis a vis capitulation, demolition,
and extirpation, cuz
a scathing rebuke aye attest,
those murderers didst equate
worthlessness of
so called "Indians" on 1492 date,
and still remnants of storied tribes,
now attempt to create
historical documentation operate
ting with limited resources to adjudicate.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Food methinks doth buzzfeed drumbeat agog
at pyrotechnics July 4th, 2018 shared as blog
posts, a falsehood prevails which dog
gone “FAKE” brewed watered down grog
posits that the majority of Colonialists stay hog
tied to strict task masters, and mainly the scant
upperclass experienced autonomy,
no matter the under class didst futilely rant
and rave with the occasional
uprisings over time did grant
minimal appeasement to stifle violent kant!
Pluto Slam It Planet
It was Aug. 26, 2006 in Prague
Some guys got together for grog
Astronomers by name, came for a game
To vote on the matters of science
Instead they gave Pluto its shame
To their blame they demoted the planet
It was out there as solid as granite
For millions of years it passed without fears
Or concerns about guys with their beers
Now science has banned it
With a vote of 183 yes 187 no no no
Planet Pluto must go
The Czech Republic thought they were thinkers
Allowing “Astronomers” in name, turned out to be drinkers
True, Pluto is tiny and slow as you know
Pluto is only charcoal and snow
Where will Charon, Hydra, Nix, P4, P5 moon companions go?
Are they merely a mirage of the planets pull
Outnumbered by astronomers, political fools?
In our solar system what ignorance grows
248 years to orbit our sun is far too slow for these men
Pluto! You’ll have to move faster or move out again
You can join our party in Prague....but then....
To be a member of our solar system, to justify your existence
You'll have to move quicker my friend....and be sober to that end
Slam It Poetry Contest 5/3/14