Long Guzzling Poems
Long Guzzling Poems. Below are the most popular long Guzzling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Guzzling poems by poem length and keyword.
After rounding up some cattle
I headed to the saloon
To have a drink or two
And hear a bawdy tune
Cowpokes were gambling
And guzzling up their beer
The women were upstairs
Their bosoms amply filled
Waiting to give us all a thrill
After a couple shots of whiskey
A poker game I did seek
Hoping I'd soon be on a winning streak
My luck was going good and
The cowpokes I was beating
Until big Jim accused me of cheating
A fight broke out and turned into a brawl
Big Jim got hit, and took a mighty fall
When it was all over I was still standing tall....
The cattle would be rounded up tomorrow once again
And I would be right there, ridin' on the plains
1-26-2021
Cowboy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Bandicoot's bounce over my dead lead head.
Grim the outlook,
I am the grimness in my own storybook.
Moods are my mannerism's.
Gooey nose - a stonking flu
got me
now I mimic a monkey
with my bullhorn blowing.
When will the sun rise my eyes?
Blighted by sniffles, I dizzy and sway
to the 'Drug Mart', there to gag and goggle;
at so many meds for a bunged-up head.
Handfuls of hope
back to the laze-upon floozy chair
guzzling pills a popping.
Later, write this,
mayhap get pissed on some bitter brew.
Bandicoot's snoring.
A little peckish.
Here a glimmer
there it is, the shiny light,
feeling svelte in a sky bright blue.
Sniffing better, sleep later.
My mam used to clean at Billy Bulson’s farm,
A magical place of mystery and charm,
With geese that cackled and hissed and every day.
Without my mam I’d have run away
As they charged with flapping wings.
I was really scared of those fierce big things
With their open beaks and lowered necks.
It really hurt if you got a peck.
But through the flock and into that house of joy
Where I was treated like their own little boy.
A passage was guarded by a stuffed dog fox
Watching the world from his glass walled box.
I knew he watched with his beady eye
And I always walked respectfully by.
Out in the orchard with their daughter Jill,
Amazingly we were never ill,
Stuffing our faces with fruit on the ground
Fallen from the trees growing all around.
Apples and pears and plums and cherries,
In the kitchen garden currants and berries.
Once a week was butter making day.
Mrs Bulson would separate and skim the whey
Then pour the rest in her electric churn
Driven by a rubber belt that made it turn
Producing yellow butter fresh and creamy
I can taste it still - so fresh and dreamy.
She’d shape it all into little square pats
With a pair of special wooden bats
Sometimes there was a little pat for me
To carry it home and eat with our tea.
They still had Shires working on the crops.
Those old boys just never seemed to stop.
I can still feel the thrill deep inside
That first time Billy Bulson let me ride
Holding me on that Shire’s back
As it plodded its powerful track
Turning the potatoes out of the land
To be grasped by the picker’s hands.
The more they picked the more their pay,
Paid by the bag, not by the day.
Close my eyes and I’m back there still
Guzzling the fruit with my friend Jill
When mam cleaned at Billy Bulson’s farm
A magical place of mystery and charm
Can somebody please give this uber **** fuller a lyft?
alternately titled: jump starter for clunky, junky,
quirky, xyz mechanic wanted in tow tow -
chassis what I mean?)
As the proud graduated
honorably rolled 2009 Hyundai
Sonata vehicular property
belonging to a mister
and missus Matthew Harris
(fifty shades of gray
if that makes any difference),
I experience nervous
rack and pinion quaking
shimmying, whining, and zipping
also twittering, shuttering,
linkedin kickstarting powertrain
even before chugging,
huffing, puffing, spewing...
like magic dragon along boulevard
of broken automotive debris
regarding upcoming
emission/inspection
due before stroke of midnight
August 31st, 2019
last year this time...
aye yie yie...
oil my pan, a major overhaul
comprising driver side suspension
engendered shock,
I...could not absorb
even now, yours truly strut er ers...,
and doth recoil scary undertaking
smattering of months thereafter,
(I wheely cannot engine ear
recalling exact amount of time)
what in the name of... car nation...
then... driver side rear brake assembly
required replacement
giving said owners run off
Golden Gate Bridge for their
newfound moneyless rendered situation
(ex post facto new battery got installed)
sorry to zap at greased lightning speed
and (mane lee) take lion's share
of social security electronic deposit,
(what with fuel tank filler ups,
and insurance - no matter
Nationwide always on my side)
understandable decent folks
would prefer to steer me
off cliff side, but
my dear friend SEPTA
doth not cam into hinterland
namely Schwenksville, Pennsylvania,
thus imposing prohibitive dollars
tooling them around
mainly medical appointments,
cuz at ten plus years old,
and odometer clicking away...
mechanical malfunction,
could diesel lee, axle dent tully
risk life and limb,
thus park my exhausted words
this fellow gas guzzling,
motoring, rotating tire
screeching hot rods...
ole clunker auto know,
but hates tappet cob Bosch,
and get cha piston off...,
but tread carefully,
and curry big stick shift.
It Ended With A Kiss
Marie, an oldie who'd never been kissed
Longed for the feeling of kissing on lips
One day she went selling kisses for free
Men were put off for Marie was gummy
She'd lost her teeth guzzling too many sweets
Then had regretted indulging in treats.
Suddenly a cool, handsome guy passed by
The oldie gave him a wink from her eye
He knew what she wanted and came up trumps
Gave her a kiss and found Marie stunk
He was disgusted and said she should pay
She paid happily as he'd made her day.
The dear sweet Marie has since passed away
This is what her epitaph has to say
"Here lies a woman merrily at rest
Her last day on earth was simply the best
That day she’d known the magic of a kiss
Twas worth every penny of fifty quid."
14th May 2022
If wishes were kisses life would be bliss,
everyone would be blessed with lucky lips.
Quote - Poet’s own
Weddings used to be solemn.
Reverent.
No one spoke as they entered the church.
It was like a funeral only less flowers.
Super respectful air of silence.
Solemn occasion.
We took it seriously.
Even the children entered quietly.
If there was a peep, people looked.
The rites were serious.
The priest or minister walked up and we could not hear their shoes.
Beautiful music was played.
Groom and best man walked up first.
No grinning or talking.
We watched in silence.
Bridesmaids walked up a certain way.
Flower girl laid down petals in silence.
Ring bearer dropped the rings and no one laughed.
Reverent.
A solemn occasion
When the song came on, we all stood for the bride.
No one stands for the bride now.
Bride and groom are pulled in on a sleigh with their children
Wedding held in a pub. Everyone laughing, guzzling beer.
Minister got his license sending in two crackerjack box tops and five dollars.
If he is not funny enough, some guests leave.
Mountain oysters are on the bar.
Yucka Yucka. Marriage is over in three months.
Two old cowpokes were reminiscing about the olden days,
Comparing thoughts about the way things are nowadays.
Spending the afternoon guzzling beer at the local saloon,
Chawing terbaccy aiming near misses at the brass spitoon!
"Well, they is even wimmin herdin' dogies in designer jeans.
Instead uv a horse, they is usin' fancy all-terrain machines!
Dudes wear alligator boots an' jeans with Calvin Klein labels.
Ya kin bet they won't curry a horse er muck th' stables!"
"Each mornin' th' boss has a tooth-grindin' decision to weigh;
Will it be th' helicopters er pick-ups fer th' roundup today?
It wuz no big decision whut we wuz to use, uv course,
We'd jes' saddle up an' ride th' trail on our faithful horse!"
"I've even heerd tell they now uses cell phones to keep in touch.
We wuz jes' outta luck if'n we got in a serious clutch.
Fer chuck we had beans, pertaters an' applesauce.
Nowadays, if'n they don't git fancy grub they gits mighty cross!"
"I reckon the things we is talkin' about ain't politically correct,
But I 'spose it's a good thing now an' agin to recollect,
On how us ol' fellers did th' job in good ol' yesteryear.
Ol' pard, let's mosey up to th' bar an' git another beer!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
9/28/21
It's been tough and humbling
Just the truth, not a dark picture that I'm coloring
People coming up to me
With a look that is puzzling
Telling me how my words have been troubling
I said, "Do you have any idea of how much I've been struggling?"
All this damn alcohol I continue guzzling
The drugs and alcohol help temporarily, but I'm still suffering
Out in the country where the connection keeps buffering
All this dirt I continue shoveling
Amid any weather, even when thundering
As I continue wondering
All this ground I keep covering
Meanwhile overhead other lifeforms are hovering
Never lived a life of luxury
For a long time, been in the Coventry
Just trying to live sucker-free
Ain't got the time for f***ery
And puppetry
Never treating people like they're 'under me'
The first step for me is recovery
At times, excuse my honest vulgarity
I need to step my game up, I don't need therapy
Another's misfortune and in it others find hilarity
Well
It's towards heaven or hell
In the end I don't think there'll be any stairs for me
Only one way to find out apparently
As I travel in the dark or with a lamp fueled by kerosene
Amidst particles that contaminate the very air we breathe
My actions and words are of the utmost sincerity
I'm an oddity and a rarity
That is not infatuated with wealth and popularity
Becoming a singularity
From finding clarity
All the while working toward prosperity
Ever since the situation reached severity
In a world full of barbarity
I'm finding it harder to relate, it's having little familiarity
The undertaker at Butcher's Funeral Parlor received the dreadful call.
Seems old Senator Cheatum keeled over and succumbed at the local mall!
His untimely demise spurred the undertaker to set a series of events in motion,
To ensure that everything went smoothly with a minimum of commotion!
Senator Cheatum made prior funeral arrangements including the care of his cat.
He was to be interred in Glorious Sunrise Cemetery in a pleasant, shady plat.
Mr. Butcher, the undertaker, had to arrange for guys to excavate his grave,
So he collared three of the town's ne-er-do-wells, Arnold, Cletus and Dave.
He found them hanging out at Clyde's Saloon guzzling Old Milwaukee beers!
Those fellers had dug graves for dozens of townsfolk for years and years.
They loaded their shovels and a couple of cases of beer in Dave's pickup truck.
They figured on having the job completed before the sun set with any luck.
They measured the plat to a precise four by six and when all was ready,
Their elbows flew as they shoveled that hallowed clay, albeit, a bit unsteady!
They paused for a break every fifteen minutes or so to tap another brew.
As the grave reached the prescribed six feet, it grew more and more askew!
In their bleary-eyed state they weren't concerned about the esthetics of it all.
They just wanted to pack up their gear and head for Clyde's Saloon and Pool Hall.
They eyed their handiwork, drank some more and Cletus was heard to expound:
"Shucks, that old fart was so crooked that they could screw him in the ground!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Stay tuned - sequel to follow!
An aliveness announcing angels,
Beyond beautiful bliss,
Clarifying clearly
Disastrously dynamic diminished-hexaverses,
Eagerly, enthusiastically
Finding fanatical futuristic free-verse
Gyrations guzzling
Haphazardly, happy haiku
Illustrating Images
Jubilantly jiving, juicy
Kindred kindness
Luxuriously languishing
Mystically, magically, memorably
Nimble notations
Opulently
Persuasively, poetically
Quirkily,
Relishing Rhymes.
Succulent, sassy, sensuous
Tangerine Tango-like tankas,
Understandably undecided
Vexingly verifying
Wonderful, wild,
‘xcitingly ‘xhibiting
zany, zealous, zestful Z.