Long Rum Poems
Long Rum Poems. Below are the most popular long Rum by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rum poems by poem length and keyword.
Another huge turkey was caught
The big pheasant was housed in the vault
For consumption
Not for admiration
I'm neither talking about the wild turkey
Who’s running for President
Nor the one which is a country
Now embroiled
And roiled in turmoil
I am talking about the noisy pheasant
That we all like to fest on the last Thursday
Of November every year, and on New Year’s Day.
I can’t wait to enjoy its thighs and wings
I can’t wait afterwards to make the swings
Squeak and cry, because we all weigh more
Than before: the skinny, the rich and the poor.
Happy Thanksgiving Day everybody
The President already pardoned a gorgeous turkey.
Hebert Logerie Wednesday, November 25, 2015
It's impossible to step outside of alcohol.
It's like finding a new road map, curious and invigorating,
Until you wake up to the old, brighter consciousness.
The binging of drink is Life Immobile.
The non-creative dream-state of
Fools and heart-ache.
I write such a thing in such a state.
Art in rum and Belgian beer.
Art with chamomile and wounded cheer.
Art underground and minted and cold.
Art in heaven with cellulose toes.
Art in art with hearts and charts.
You get the picture. Of a car.
It's just a bunch of parts. On the ground.
You make your shape and I'll make mine.
You stay sober, I'll get the wine.
We're all swimming together anyway,
Some just smile as they drown.
Others breathe, wearing a frown.
Pa Rum Pum Pum Pum
He didn't have much, in fact just the drum around his side
Though none of us are as such few of us have really tried
He gave the only thing he had, a gift truly from his heart
And to it he did add as you can hear right from the start
He played Him his special song as like a song written for you
His own love for Him so strong in seeing him you just knew
And with his drum he began in playing a song in His Name
In just knowing how special of a day, inside a burning Flame
And play his drum he did a song we remember so well today
Though most of us don't also long as so many don't even pray
That song touched everyone around and this in being so young
It's was such a beautiful sound like a Heavenly bell being rung
For what he hoped all the while as he played before the king
Was just to make him smile was all he was hoping to bring
And just as he was about to leave and go upon his own way
That smile he did receive as the king then asked him to stay
Pa Rum Pum Pum Pum
“What is it?” said Raisin. Rum said, “I don’t know,
Let’s find us a hill and watch that thing go.”
Walnut said, “Hold up; I’ve seen one of these,
It looks like a wheel, but it is, in fact, cheese.”
“It’s normally cut into portions to sell
Whoever mislaid it will be mad as hell.”
Rum said, “Are you saying this thing is food,
It don’t smell like something that I ever chewed.”
Raisin was tentative, sniffing it quick,
“Crikey, it’s putrid… I wanna be sick.”
Walnut said, “Mum and dad love it… I’m in.”
He bit off a chunk and bits stuck to his chin.
His eyes soon glazed over, and poor Walnut cringed
“That stuff really packs quite a punch,” Walnut whinged
He tried to suck cheese from his gums and he slobbered.
“Boy that stuff’s sticky, my taste buds are clobbered"”
A man in a chef’s hat and curled up moustache
Came up and bellowed, “C’est Mon fromage!”
Walnut said, “I think he’s after our cheese.”
And Rum said, “For heaven’s sake, give him it…PLEASE!”
The chef headed off with the cheese he’d mislaid
While Walnut was praying the bad taste would fade
Both Rum and Raisin had covered their noses
Rum said, “You sure ain’t a bouquet of roses.”
And so they walked home and at Raisin’s insistence
Walnut was made to walk at quite a distance
Rum said, “If anyone stands in our way,
Your foul, rotten-egg breath will keep them at bay.”
And so as they walked, ally cats let them be
A woodpecker squawked and fell out of a tree
A tree surgeon gagged and he might well have fled
But the branch he’d been sawing fell down on his head
A man on a bike steered it into a brook
Pedestrians went to help out or just look
They all jumped as one for the impulse was strong
The brook seemed a good place to hide from the pong
Once home, Walnut, Raisin and Rum had a doze
Then woke to the sound of their mum’s sniffy nose
She was knelt with her head in the washing machine…
“There’s rancid socks somewhere… the stench is obscene!”
Rum and twenty dollar bills,
three parts giddy a quarter numb;
Innate desire each one fulfills;
Dazed rabbit diving down molehills
not at all curious about the outcome,
rum and twenty dollar bills;
Relishing everything the taste instills
keyed up and devouring every crumb,
innate desire each one fulfills;
In a flash sensibility sours and spills,
licking the rim erasing humdrum;
Rum and twenty dollar bills;
Spiced butter and enchanted thrills
with each drop madness can hum;
Innate desire each one fulfills;
The sunrise sobers and chills,
moonlight fades throwing a tantrum;
Rum and twenty dollar bills,
innate desire each one fulfills.
O, come to our feast,
Suspend your drinking laws,
We've plenty of the Beast,
Guffaw! Guffaw! Guffaw!
This Beast is called Red Rum-
It's very potent, too.
Those who drink it-numb,
Their conscience runs askew!
It's the lifeblood of our Cause,
A right, a guarantee.
Our product has no flaws-
'It' wasn't meant to be!
Our Cause is such a lofty one,
The choice of all Elite,
Sovereigns have a lot of fun,
Red Rum is such a treat!
Red is our sign of victory,
Rum has the taste of bliss,
Freedom is our revelry,
A blessed drunkeness!
Red will mean a sacrifice,
But necessary is our choice,
Rum itself will not suffice,
Rejoice! Rejoice! Rejoice!
Who hails from yonder pew,
To argue for a life?
The thing is mere tissue,
Why cause us undue strife?
I have found your logic crude,
You morals, very rude!
Personally, you're a prude.
And, I'm really not in the mood!
"You have 'it' backwards, dude!"
21/2cups of flour( self rising)
2 tablespoons of cornstarch
2 whole eggs+ 1 yolk
2 Tablespoons of lemon juice
1 Tablespoon of Gin
1/2 Teaspoon of lemon zest
1 cup of bread crumbs
1 &1/2 cup of buttermilk
1 Tablespoon of cayenne pepper
2 tablespoon of dried chives
1 Teaspoon of salt
1 Table spoon of dehydrated onion
1 Tablespoon of garlic powder
1 Tablespoon of Paresean Cheese
3 cups of shucked Manoes
6 cups of oil for deep frying
mix all ingredeints
minus the clams
create a batter
add more or less to
create a sticky consistant batter
smooth
dip Manoes in the batte
and deep fry until golden brown
serve from a bed of watercrest
small cunks of deseed watermelon
crumbled feta
and fried onions with crumbled bacon
lettuce, fried green tomatos
and a vinagerette
serve with tartar sauce
Enjoy!
A Poet can get very Glum
And she starts to think it's rather Rum
When she would like to write
A poem that would delight
Everyone.
Her brain, if it's still there,
Has gone on strike
Or don't care
About the Poet, who holds the pen
Who feels she'll never write again
Beware,
Of brain that has had enough
Of the challenge of this rhyming stuff
Moon in June and Morn and Dawn
Fills some accomplished poet's brains with scorn
Yawn.
My brain is going senile,
My pen does not know what to do, meanwhile
Maybe if I had a new pen
My brain would start to tick again
Fragile
Fragile and needs a rest
The brain is too tired to give its best
I may take a sip of Nelson's blood
Which will I hope cause a flood
Of Poems so exquisite
My brain will revisit
And meet the test.
Colourful flags of the Caribbean
Flood London’s streets,
Vibrations from the sound systems
Pounding heavy reggae beats.
Smells of curry goat
And jerk chicken in the air,
Smoke rising from the barbecues,
Feathers tangled in dancers’ hair.
Men and women whining,
Drums echo through the crowd,
The city shakes with unity —
Culture roaring loud.
Everyone’s united,
Dancing, chanting proud,
Sipping cups of homemade sorrel,
Ancestral voices shouting loud.
And in the bass, in the blaze, in the laughter and cheer,
Echoes of struggle that carried them here —
Chains turned to rhythms, pain turned to song,
A people still marching, still dancing, still strong.
Debilitating laughter
at the hands of a master
a dirty minded b@stard
who knows what he’s after
The ever subtle asker
he caresses and flatters
his clever patter shatters
cares that should matter
Finally, we moved to extract her
the wobbling girl from Nebraska
from a drunken fraternal disaster
and the junior poised to shaft her
Uhh, sorry to interrupt
Anna, pick her up her stuff
We gotta go home hun, get up
Hey, you touch ME and you’re f-cked
Hun, you’ve had too much rum
when tomorrow comes
if you still want to slum
you can still bed the bum
We’re waiting for an Uber
Are you starting to sober?
No babe, you didn’t screw-up
Ughh, yep, she threw up