Long Pint Poems
Long Pint Poems. Below are the most popular long Pint by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pint poems by poem length and keyword.
You heard a man talking, what he said,
didn’t really like it, what he said,
so you turned to murder, now he’s dead,
I fear we’ll be seeing some dark days ahead…
…from this point on, we’re seeing red.
Minds poisoned by academy,
actually believe there is ‘hate speech,’
know nothing of being free,
taught to hate all who disagree.
media out, twisting your mind,
gaslight you to hate all kinds
who deviate from their line,
propaganda of the worst kind.
You heard a man talking, what he said,
didn’t really like it, what he said,
so you turned to murder, now he’s dead,
I fear we’ll be seeing some dark days ahead…
…from this point on, we’re seeing red.
Are you even American?
don’t think you can be again,
certainly none can call you friend,
you don’t belong amongst men,
not when you were cheering this
online, happy for the hit,
his children saw it, you dumb sh-t!
Are you still human? I doubt it.
You heard a man talking, what he said,
didn’t really like it, what he said,
so you turned to murder, now he’s dead,
I fear we’ll be seeing some dark days ahead…
…from this point on, we’re seeing red.
We know this evil will persist,
God warmed of demons like this,
but I don’t want to coexist
with damned murder-happy leftists.
Now I’ll assume, when I see one,
he’d kill me if he had a gun,
but the tipping pint had come,
and what they’ve loosed can’t be undone.
You heard a man talking, what he said,
didn’t really like it, what he said,
so you turned to murder, now he’s dead,
I fear we’ll be seeing some dark days ahead…
…from this point on, we’re seeing red.
Mothers day they say,
A time to give great thanks
To the woman that made you who you are today...
I wish i could say it was fun along the way,
But most of the time, for me, it was a cycle of hatred and anger built up inside me...
The original drank herself to the bottom of a bottle and brawled her frustration out with anyone that was near and dear within her wake.
The other was ok, but still didnt lack pint up rage.
She knows her name.
Toast to those that made me realize i didnt need them in my life,
Even if they did make me feel bitter and estranged
As well as unwanted perhaps, but its all the same.
Toast and happy mothers day.
Grandpa said, “You work hard all day
to do to yourself some good....
what you think as priory in your pay
is a well deserved dish of good food!”
For the less fortunate; one square meal
and for the well off; another day of feast!
In diet classes: "It’s not a big deal
to decline favorites to have fat decreased!"
At home: A well garnished pizza “extra cheese”
and a generous chunk of ‘Black Forest cake’ to follow.
All to be flushed in with wine, sweet and chilled, please.
I can't help it; my stomach is an ever growing hollow!
So, "Do what I say but don't do what I do.";
Rational on duty but mad for a ‘biryani”, spicy and hot!
Strong to my audience, but weak with a pint of home brew.
"Excuse me, for the extra sugar, can’t resist my cooking pot!"
28/06/16
18/02/17 Revisited for contest Just a little bit of sugar by Debbie Guzzi
Note: sugar in simple and complex forms constitute nearly all foods, which is calculated as calorie intake per day.
McGee’s Tall Tale
I first saw McGee with his back facing me
sitting in the Pub with a pint
When Finn, asked him "Tell us a Tale"
So, he stood up and said "I just might"
His face looked grim, as I studied him
and his eyes were fixed and glistened
"Boys, This will blow your moorings away,
with a tale, if you just, sit and listen"
"On a stormy night, all the hatches were tight,
and our cargo was lashed with strong ropes
With my years spent at sea, never thought it'd be me
Who was finding it hard just to cope"
Mcgee's voice became weak, as he started to seek
something to drink from his mug
"Quick, buy him a beer, No, take mine, it's right here"
As Finn pulled out a stout jug
Then McGee took as sip, held the jug by his hip
And proceeded to render his tale
“There was a monster you see, as big as could be,
One that could eat a large whale”
Now, the men were all tense, and the monster immense
Growing bigger, with each pull of the plug
And the waves got much taller while the poor ship grew smaller
Each time McGee sipped from the jug
“ This monster you see”, said half drunken McGee
“Was a Kraken, attacking the ship,
took one look at me, pulled me down in the sea
With a lethal and almighty grip”
From out of the blue, Finn yelled “ What did you do ” ?
As McGee let loose with a laugh
With the free drinks all through, McGee said, “You Fool,
I DIED THAT NIGHT, ARE YOU DAFFED”
Lily White
Being firm and money tight
Headed to the golden sands looking just right
There was Mr. Bourne and his mouth
Packing the cherries to go south
“Young lady what can I do for you?
Maybe a pint filled with my special brew?”
Looking at him
Innocently no sin
“This should be an easy win
Three points in the bag
Upper table move a good brag”
Everything packed away
Mr. Bourne had nothing to say
We are going somewhere to be on top
Develop a winning crop
Feeling sorry and remorse
Not needing to be seen in a porsche
Lily White did not open her net
Cherry pickers score they did not get
As for Lily still in her white
A draw ended the plight
Nothing on the board
Except cherries being stored
For the foxes weekend picking tour
Later on the Red Devils
Went looking for something below their level
Playing inside Aston’s Villa
Still a
Chance to pick off the buzz
And the west ham that never was
Due to a foul
Red Devils Bruno went POW
Before the half ended
Second goal green wood tended
A healthy break in the lopsided war
Turned Aston’s Villa into a boutique store
A hat trick was commenced
Ending the suspense
Aston was done
In a match they fantasied they won
Fish and chips and a pint of dark brew.
Malt vinegar and lashings of salt.
A fish dinner served up
by a truck in a newspaper cone.
That was then, that was before
taste buds got hard boiled,
before the bowtie culture wars.
Pickled onions are now too small
they should have stayed big and brown
something saucy and sour to munch on
while walking around London town.
Peas pudding, jellied eels,
pork pie to tempt our eyes.
Mostly all gone
or not the same.
Shame,
for now we are cosmopolitan
even here in the Midwest
we are upscale in the fine dining fare.
French, Italian, Bolivian, Mongolian,
Mexican and Estonian, it's all good
or can be, but
fish and chips wrapped in newspaper,
nothing better!
Edward Kenway was a pirate
He sailed the Spanish Main
He plundered British merchant ships
And the Galleons of Spain
Once he was a farmer
He walked behind the plough
But now he ploughed the oceans deep
He was a pirate now
He started as a deckhand
Till his bravery won through
Then he became a captain bold
And ruled a pirate crew
He sailed into Nassau
And he took that town
It was then the British Government
Ruled they must take him down
One bright sunny morning
The fleet sailed into the bay
They were British Men of War
They were going to make him pay
But captain Kenway had a plan
He knew what they must do
He slowly drained his pint of ale
The stood to face his crew
Come on lads we'll to the fort
Make them taste the cannon ball
If we surrender now me boys
They'll surely hang us all
Kenway occupied the fort
Behind its strong stone walls
He knew he had the greatest chance
To make the British fall
He had a dozen cannons
Set toward the sea
He swore an oath upon his sword
That he'd keep Nassau free
The oath that he made to them
Did his men inspire
They all swore to do the same
As the British opened fire
They felt the ramparts shudder
As the heavy metal balls
Flew through the air and thudded
Into the fortress walls
But Kenway stood before his men
And this speech he made
Fire your cannons at them boys
Lets make them afraid
We will make them shake with fear
They'll turn and run and then
They will always rue the day
They messed with Kenway's men
The pirates fired the cannons
Two British ships went down
But one hundred troops stormed the beach
They were trying to take the town
But Kenway had prepared right well
He had men upon that shore
Hidden under canvas sails
Ready for the war
The troops were taken by surprise
The pirates did attack
The were outnumbered three to one
But they sent them running back
Kenway's cannons fired again
And four more ships did sink
All the pirates roared huzzah
As they sank into the drink
Fourteen British men of war
Limped out of the bay
Their sails were torn their hulls were holed
As they sailed away
Through the years many tales were told
The legend slowly grew
Of how the British Navy
Were crushed by Kenway's crew
It's said, "The world will bleed away."
It bleeds and bleeds—one pint a day.
A blood as bland as monochrome,
as voices in an echo-dome.
The drooling masses lap it up.
And lick the anchor's shiny cup.
With honeyed words that tickle ears.
Or doomsday chants, neurotic fears.
One pint a spew of ink on page;
the next a clip to bait our rage.
More deep-fake, cheap-fake, viral slop,
all gobbled up without a thought.
They swipe until their thumbs fall numb.
Each point-less short a tasty crumb.
And reach into their crinkly bag,
to find a byte with which to brag.
It flows and flows—a crimson hue.
False words—a bitter cud to chew.
When idle hour courts lazy mind,
and sightless ones dare lead the blind.
When wars are waged on field and screen.
Whilst rumor mills redraw the scene.
It's said, "The world will bleed away."
The things I see—I fear it may.
I made a scrumptious chocolate birthday cake just for you
My only wish, I could deliver it, across the pond to you!
For two years straight, you stood behind me daily.
A trophy, you do deserve, not one day, but three
hundred sixty five, times two, for contacting by
comment or soup mail, you never failed me!
Such a unique poet you are, and endearing, indeed,
to so many.
Love, peppered with humility and peace, are on
your agenda daily.
Tom, you've gone way out of your way,
When I felt abysmally, horribly dismayed!
You are wise, like a philosopher, to recognize the real
poets here, from the phony.
And run from those, who post pure, arrogant baloney.
I wish you health and happiness for so many years.
Wish we could all go to a pub, raise a pint and wish
you happiness, with loving, poetic cheers!
Hugs from the USA,
Panagiota
2/16/2021
The contender
I have not met many famous people in me continues life
but I have seen three kings, the first one who, when old
broke his leg for a reason not clear to me, died from
the accident that involved a horse
His son took over, he liked to dress in an admiral uniform
fond of sailing and cocktails, as was Hercules Poirot
when he died, his son became king, a quiet man who has
not done anything legendary.
Of course, they were only famous for being kings in them
little country not like Alan Ladd and Jack Dempsey I saw
a warm summer night in New York; Alan was short and
Jack was tall, and they walked into a bar.
My life is a modest one, hamburger cook when not sitting
In a pub with other pretenders, talking about art, which
we had not seen other than in magazines and books we
had read, thinking we’re intellectuals.
Not that I complain, I once took an acting course, but
nothing came out of it, even though friends said I was
talented doing press-ups with one arm behind my back
while drinking a pint of beer.